From the corner of my eye, I catch her cocking her head and observing me quietly. “You really don’t want to hear my idea?” she asks quietly.
I grit my teeth. “I’d rather find a distraction from the fact that we’ve been snowed in.”
Lydia sighs and sets her phone down on the sofa between us. For a brief moment, I catch sight of her lockscreen—the ranch at sunrise with the Jade Mountain ridge in the distance. My heart sinks as I wonder what my aunt could possibly want with her family.
“The chances of me going home are slim, aren’t they?” she asks, elbow resting on the back of the sofa, allowing her to rest her chin on her hand.
There’s a softness in her gaze that takes my breath away. It’s not something I deserve to be witness to—or have directed at me. And yet I see no judgement in her stare, nothing to indicate that she feels any sort of negative way about me.
The screen of her phone lights up with a message. Without thinking, I grab it, more curious than I should be.
“Wait!” She tries to grab for the cell, landing half in my lap as I hold it away from her. Somehow, this brings her almost face to face with me; her eyes, a striking grey, reminds me of the sky before a storm. The deepening of the clouds before that first strike of lightning, just as the rain starts to fall.
Her hair tumbles into her face as she falls into my chest. One hand rests against my pounding heart, the other grips my wrist.
Plump lips part on a gasp as I wrap my arm around her. The pull I feel towards her explodes within me, especially now that she’s in my arms again. And when her cheeks flush a deep,unforgiving red again, I can’t help but enjoy the way it spreads all the way down her neck and beneath the collar of her shirt.
“Mr Abernathy,” she murmurs, but doesn’t pull away.
“Cade,” I correct, voice low. “I’m not Mr Abernathy.”
She draws in a sharp breath. “Okay, Cade.”
I can’t help but watch her lips move as she says my name. I can’t help but want to know what they taste like.
The man I was before would have stolen a kiss without a second thought. He wouldn’t have cared; would have gone after her the moment he saw her. Lydia might have been the opposite type for the old Cade Abernathy, but she’s everything I need now. She’s real and alive, full of fire and warmth. And after living in isolation for years, she makes me want to live.
The new Cade leans closer as a small breath falls from her lips, watching as her eyes darken.
“Pull away,” I tell her, voice strangled. “Tell me to fuck off.”
For a moment, she hesitates, eyes darting from my eyes to my lips. “Make me,” she whispers, gaze hardening with that challenge I’ve come to know too well.
With her words hanging in the air, I don’t stop myself.
She tastes exactly as I expect her to: sweet with a hidden depth, like a well-aged wine. Heat explodes within me, a fire lit by the little sound she makes in the back of her throat, stoked by the way she presses into me.
This isn’t just a challenge. Not when her lips part for more.
Not when I feel her melt into me.
And especially not when my heart begs for more.
SIX
LYDIA
Itouch my lips, staring at myself in the mirror. Holy shit, what have I done?
You kissed your boss, the old Lydia says.You kissed him and youlikedit.
I shove my fingers through my hair and turn away from my judgy reflection, heart pounding. But the truth is right there, running through my head on repeat. Ikissedhim, and I liked it.
He made me feel like there could be more than standing in the shadows of my brothers and their epic love stories. The kiss made me think I could have that, too. That maybe the Grinch-like Cade Abernathy is just a facade, and the man I kissed tonight is capable of being more for me.
But he’s a billionaire headed back to New York, I remind myself, leaving the ensuite bathroom and collapsing onto my bed. He’s not just a billionaire, but he’sthebillionaire of this town. The one who everyone fears, who people whisper about like he’s Big Foot and it’s a damn curse if you spot him.
And yet, I think about the giant burn scars on his shoulder and back. I think about all the people who spat his name because of the fire. Those scars tell an entirely different story. Like he’d done more than just stand there the night the lodgeburned down, like he’d thrown himself into the flames to save something he built entirely on his own.
