Every time I closed my eyes, I was back in his arms as he carried me away from the woman we were tracking down. Then, the memory would change, and he was pinning me beneath him in the snow, that low, broken groan spilling from his lips. The sound shouldn't still be echoing in my head, but there it was, making my skin burn and my thighs press together.
In my defense, there really had been a rock digging into my ass. I was just trying to survive two hundred-something pounds of football player crushing me into the frozen ground. That was survival instinct, nothing more.
So why had I thrown snow in his face instead of kissing him?
I don’t fucking know. Brilliant move, Ellie. Really brilliant.
I should’ve kissed him, or at least crawled into his lap and begged him to make good on the promise in his eyes.
We'd been faking this relationship for weeks, but something had shifted. My heart was caught somewhere between wild hope and free fall, and I was achingly aware he was just down the hall, probably shirtless and asleep—or maybe wanting me as much as I wanted him.
The restlessness finally won. I needed to move, to do something other than replay every moment on an endless loop. A trip to the bathroom seemed harmless enough—maybe cold water would shock some sense back into me.
I walked down the hall. The bathroom door was shut, but I figured Sawyer had already passed out. Just in case, I knocked lightly.
No answer.
I pushed the door open and froze, my jaw dropping wide open. Sawyer was next to the shower, completely naked.
Moonlight spilled over his back from the small window, tracing the muscles in a way that felt almost deliberate. It was almost as if the universe itself had conspired to spotlight him in this moment. He had one hand braced against the windowsill, the other wrapped tightly around his cock.
I knew I should’ve turned around—vanished, pretended this never happened. Instead, I stood there, wide-eyed, heart thudding in my chest like it was trying to escape. His back flexed with every movement, his biceps tightening.
God, he was breathtaking. Masculine, undone, and unashamed. It was intimate—so intimate, it stole the breath from my lungs.
It took him a second to realize I was there, but when he did, he didn’t flinch or cover himself.
He turned slowly toward me, and I gasped when we made eye contact.
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry.” I spun around, heat rushing to my cheeks, embarrassment crashing over me.
“Stop.”
The single word halted me. I obeyed, my back still to him, pulse pounding in my ears.
“Turn around, Ellie.”
I should’ve said no. I should’ve left.
But I still couldn’t.
It wasn’t just the way he said my name. It was the quiet command in his voice, the way it wrapped around me like a tether, pulling me toward him.
So, I turned, and our eyes met once again. There was heat in his gaze. Dark, liquid heat poured into me and made my knees unsteady. My skin buzzed, awareness zipping down my spine like a live wire.
“Stay,” he murmured, his hand sliding back into motion.
“I—” My voice cracked. “I don’t think I should.”
“You definitely should, Ellie baby.”
He licked his lips slowly, his gaze dropping to my mouth like it was something he’d already tasted in his dreams. My breath caught.
“Okay,” I whispered.
“Yeah?” He smirked.
I nodded. “Yeah.”
