"And you just…ride it out alone?"
I shrug, joining her at the window. Close enough that I can smell the faint sweetness clinging to her hair. "Doesn't bother me."
She tilts her head, studying me the way she did the first time I caught her digging in the snow. Her eyes are hazel, I realize, green and gold and brown all mixed together, shifting with the firelight. "You say that like you're trying to convince yourself."
"I'm not," I say. But it comes out rough, and even I don't buy it.
Her smile shifts, less teasing now, more knowing. She takes a step toward me, slow and sure, and suddenly the cabin feels smaller. Warmer.
The fire crackles, throwing gold light across her face, catching in her eyes and making them shine. The air feels thick enough to touch, heavy with things neither of us are saying.
"You know," she says, "for a guy who likes quiet, you sure talk a lot when you're trying not to."
"I'm not trying—"
She grins. "Yes, you are."
Another step. Close enough now that I can see the way her pulse beats at the base of her throat. My own pulse kicks in response.
I should back up.
I don't.
"You're something else, Gia."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
"It wasn't meant as one."
"Still taking it as one."
The corner of my mouth pulls before I can stop it. And then she looks up at me—eyes bright, mouth soft and slightly parted—and the storm outside might as well be the edge of the world.
"Thatcher," she whispers, and my name in her mouth sounds like a question and an answer all at once.
That's all it takes to snap my resolve.
I reach for her, fingers curling at the back of her neck, drawing her in. The first brush of her lips is warm, curious, exactly as bold as she is. She sighs against my mouth, and that sound does something deep and dangerous inside me, unlocking something I thought I'd welded shut.
Her hands slide up my chest, fingers curling into my shirt, anchoring herself as the wind howls and the fire pops and every good intention I had burns right along with it.
The kiss deepens—slow, steady, inevitable. She tastes like cocoa and courage, like trouble I don't want to resist another minute. Her mouth is soft and warm and demanding, and when she makes a small sound in the back of her throat, heat floods through me.
I pull her closer, one hand spanning the small of her back, feeling the way she arches into me. Her curves press against me, soft where I'm hard, warm where I've been cold for too damn long.
When we finally pull apart, she's smiling, breathless, lips swollen and eyes dazed.
"See?" she murmurs, fingers still twisted in my shirt. "Knew I’d find a secret treasure up here."
I brush my thumb across her bottom lip, and she catches it gently between her teeth. "You’re trouble, aren’t you?"
"The best kind," she whispers, and pulls me back down for another kiss.
Chapter 5
Gia
Morningarrivesquietly,asif even the mountain's still asleep.
