Mila’s eyes go wide. Her breath catches.
“Beau,” she whispers again, like she can’t decide if she’s warning me or inviting me.
I lean in until my mouth is a whisper from hers. “You wore that dress to dinner on purpose.”
Her cheeks blaze. “Your grandmother told me to.”
“My grandmother is not the reason you’re looking at me like that,” I murmur.
Mila’s throat works. “Maybe I’m just… cold.”
I smile, dark and humorless, because we both know that’s a lie.
I kiss her.
Slow at first—because I’m trying to hold back, trying to give her room to change her mind.
But Mila’s hands slide up my jacket, gripping, pulling me closer like she’s done pretending.
That snaps something inside me.
I deepen the kiss, my mouth moving over hers like I’ve been starving. She makes a soft sound that goes straight down my spine, and I swear the world tilts.
My hand tightens at her waist, feeling the curve of her through the fabric, and it’s like my body recognizes her shape as something it’s been missing.
Mila’s fingers slip up to my neck, pushing under the edge of my beanie, nails scraping lightly against my skin.
I groan against her mouth—low, rough, involuntary.
Her eyes flutter at the sound, like she feels it.
“Inside,” I breathe, forehead resting briefly against hers as I fight for control. “Before I lose my mind out here.”
Mila nods, dazed. “Okay.”
I take her hand and practically haul us to the cabin door, keeping my pace measured so I don’t look as wrecked as I feel. She fumbles with the key once, twice.
I cover her hands with mine, steadying them, guiding the key in like it’s the most intimate thing in the world.
Mila exhales a shaky laugh. “I can do it.”
“I know,” I murmur against her hair. “Let me.”
The lock clicks.
The moment we step inside and the door shuts behind us, the quiet hits—thick and private. The firelight flickers across the room, throwing soft gold on Mila’s skin.
I don’t give myself time to think.
I turn her, back gently against the door, and kiss her again—hungrier now that we’re alone. Mila’s arms slide around my neck, pulling me down, and I feel the exact second she decides she’s done being careful.
Her body presses into mine, soft and perfect, and my restraint strains hard.
My hands move to her waist, then lower—splaying across her hips, holding her like I’m trying to anchor myself to something real.
“Mila,” I rasp, breaking the kiss only to breathe her name against her mouth.
“Beau,” she whispers back, and it sounds like a plea.
