"Just honest."
When she finally sits up, the blanket pools at her waist, and the morning light paints her skin gold. She's wearing my shirt—the flannel one she claimed last night—unbuttoned and hangingopen, revealing the curves of her breasts, the dip of her waist, the small bruise I left on her hip with my mouth.
The sight of her in my shirt, in my bed, hair wild and lips still swollen from my kisses… it's a punch I'll never get used to.
She catches me staring and smiles, slow and knowing. "See something you like?"
"Everything," I say, voice rough, and pull her back down.
This kiss is slower than last night's urgency—languid, thorough, the kind of kiss that says we have time now. I roll her beneath me, settling between her thighs, and she wraps her legs around my waist with a sigh that goes straight through me.
Her hands slide up my back, nails dragging lightly, and I shudder. "Again?" she asks, but she's already arching against me.
"Again," I confirm, and set about proving just how much I want her.
Later—much later—we finally make it out of bed. She's drowning in my flannel, the sleeves rolled up several times, hem hitting mid-thigh. Her hair's even wilder now, and there's a hickey blooming on her collarbone that I'm not even slightly sorry about.
She pads to the window, coffee in hand, and looks out at the glittering world. "It's beautiful."
I come up behind her, wrap my arms around her waist, rest my chin on her shoulder. She fits against me perfectly, like she was made for me. "It is."
We stand there, breathing in sync, watching the way the sunlight catches on the snow and turns it into diamonds.
"You're going to go back down the mountain," I say finally, because someone has to say it.
She stiffens slightly in my arms. "Not yet.”
"No?"
She turns in my arms, looks up at me with those hazel eyes that see too much. She glances at the little brass button on the table, now sitting next to the gold coin, both of them catching the morning light. "But I haven't finished the story yet."
“Am I part of the story?”
She meets my gaze, steady and sure. "You’re the twist I didn’t see coming.”
I reach up, brush my thumb along her jaw, feeling the softness of her skin, the way she leans into my touch. Something in my chest settles—something that's been restless for longer than I care to admit. "Then I guess you'd better stick around a while."
Her smile could light up the whole mountain. "Yeah?"
"As long as you want.”
She rises on her toes and kisses me—soft, sweet, and full of promise. "Okay then."
Chapter 7
Gia
Acoupleofdayslater, I stand on the porch, Thatcher's mug in my hands, his flannel hanging off one shoulder because I may or may not have claimed it as mine. Below us, the forest sparkles. It's so still I can hear the soft crack of ice shifting on the trees, the distant call of a raven, the whisper of snow sliding from overburdened branches.
"Spectacular, isn't it?" I say when he joins me, pressing a mug of coffee into my free hand.
He hums, gaze scanning the treeline. "It's something."
That's mountain man foryes, it's breathtaking but I'll never admit it out loud.
I smile and take a sip of coffee. It's perfect, strong and hot, warming me from the inside out. "You think the road will be clear today?"
"Maybe by nightfall."
