That's when I know we're both already past the point of no return.
Chapter 5 – Ariel
The cabin door closes behind Joel with a solid thud that seems to echo in my chest. The sound is final, decisive—a barrier between the wild storm outside and whatever is about to happen in here.
My heart hammers against my ribs as I watch him move through the space, his movements fluid and controlled as he adds another log to the fire, checks the windows, secures the perimeter of his domain.
His domain. And now I'm in it.
The thought sends a shiver through me. I'm still wearing his clothes, the flannel shirt soft against my skin, the jeans bundled at the bottom. I should feel awkward, swallowed by fabric, but instead I feel marked.
Claimed, even before his hands have touched me.
Joel turns from the fire, his face cast in sharp relief by the dancing flames. His eyes find mine across the room, and the intensity in them steals my breath. He doesn't speak. Doesn't need to.
The air between us crackles with tension that's been building since he found me by the frozen waterfall, since he guided me through the storm, since he stood with me in the snow and warned me to be careful what I asked for.
I'm not being careful anymore.
"Joel," I whisper, his name a question and an invitation.
He crosses the room in three long strides, and suddenly he's right there, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating fromhis body, can smell the pine and smoke and masculine scent that clings to his skin.
His hand comes up to cup my face, thumb brushing across my cheekbone in a gesture so unexpectedly gentle it makes my knees weak.
"Last chance," he says, his voice rough with restraint. "Tell me to stop now, or I won't be able to."
I lean into his touch, turning my face to press my lips against his palm. "I don't want you to stop."
Something shifts in his expression—a tightening of his jaw, a flare in his eyes that speaks of control slipping. His hand slides from my face to the back of my neck, fingers tangling in my hair as he pulls me toward him.
The first brush of his lips against mine is shockingly soft, a question rather than a demand.
But I'm done with questions. I press closer, opening my mouth under his, inviting him deeper. A growl rumbles in his chest, the sound vibrating through my body, and suddenly there's nothing soft about his kiss.
It's all heat and demand, his tongue sliding against mine as his free hand grips my hip, pulling me flush against him.
I gasp at the contact, at the hard length of him pressing against my stomach through our clothes. He's huge everywhere, his hands spanning my waist.
Joel breaks the kiss to trail his mouth down my neck, teeth scraping gently against sensitive skin. "Been wanting to taste you since I saw you in the snow," he murmurs, his breath hot against my throat. "Looking like something I wasn't supposed to touch."
"Touch me," I breathe, arching into him. "Please, Joel."
His response is immediate and overwhelming. In one fluid motion, he backs me against the nearest wall, pressing me into the rough-hewn logs, his body a solid wall of muscle pinning me in place. The wood is warm from the nearby fire, but it's nothing compared to the heat of him as he grabs my wrists in one large hand and pins them above my head.
"Like this?" he asks, but it's not really a question. His free hand slides under the hem of the flannel shirt, callused fingers finding the soft skin of my stomach, trailing upward until he's cupping my breast through my bra. "Is this what you want, sweetheart?"
"Yes," I gasp as his thumb brushes over my nipple, sending sparks of pleasure shooting down my spine. "God, yes."
He leans down to take my mouth again, the kiss deeper, more demanding this time. His tongue explores, claims, conquers, while his hand kneads my breast, thumb circling the hardened peak through the thin fabric.
I strain against his grip on my wrists, not really wanting to break free but needing him to know I'm not passive in this.
Joel smiles against my mouth, the expression more predatory than amused. "Struggling won't help," he murmurs, nipping at my lower lip. "I've got you exactly where I want you."
The words send a fresh wave of heat through me, dampening the already slick patch between my thighs. I should be embarrassed by how quickly my body responds to him, how easily I surrender to his control, but there's no room for shame in the fierce need consuming me.
His hand leaves my breast to work at the buttons of the flannel, deftly unfastening them one by one. The air kisses my exposedskin as the shirt falls open, and I shiver at the contrast between the room's warmth and the coolness against my flushed body.
