I do.
I brush her hair from her face. Let my thumb linger at her cheekbone. Her breath shudders.
I dip my head—slow, torturous—until our lips are almost touching.
Then stop.
She groans.
“You’re an asshole.”
“I know.”
“Do it.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because if I kiss you now, Noel…” I meet her eyes, “I’m not pulling back.”
She swallows.
I canfeelher heartbeat.
“We’ve got days stuck in this cabin,” I say. “And I want you begging by the end of them.”
She narrows her eyes. “You think you’re that good?”
“IknowI am.”
She smirks, tossing her bra at me before reaching for the blanket and pulling it around herself.
“Then earn it, mountain man.”
I growl. Low. Dangerous.
And walk straight to the kitchen before I forget how to think.
She laughs softly behind me.
This game’s far from over.
And I’m not planning on losing.
Chapter 7
Noel
Snow curls against the windows like it’s trying to break in.
The wind moans low, and the coffee pot sputters behind me, filling the cabin with the warm scent of morning. I’m curled on the armchair in one of Nash’s old flannel shirts—buttoned just enough not to be scandalous, but short enough to be…suggestive.
Not on purpose.
Okay, maybe a little.
He hasn’t said anything yet.
