When the producers call cut, the minute I climb out of the spring and wrap the towel around me, Creed motions for me to join him at the edge of the path, where the steam is still swirling, but we’re away from the group.
“How are you handling everything?” he asks, brushing a thumb along my cheekbone.
“Not well.” I meet his smoldering stare for a heartbeat and drop my gaze. “I don’t know if I can keep doing this, Creed. Watching you watch me with them. This show is forcing me to tear pieces off all of us. The last thing I want to do is hurt anyone.”
He cups my face. “Then stop. End it. Walk away with me right now.”
I shake my head, feeling tears rush to my eyes. “I made a commitment to the production company and I need to finish this process, so I can be sure. For me. Not just because you feel like home carved into my bones.”
“Then do what’s best for you, but know this: every second you’re not in my arms, I’m dying a little. And when you finally choose me, I’m never letting you go again.”
I feel my heart begin to crack as Elena gestures to the cast and instructs us to change into our gear for the next shoot, a “Wilderness Adventure,” which involves snowmobiles. God knows what they’re planning.
The snowmobile trek is about to start, where we’ll ride through the fresh powder to a remote shelter on a distant ridge clearly outlined on the map. The bachelors will be tested on their abilities to build emergency shelters and start fires in whiteout conditions, all for a romantic dinner under the stars for whoever wins the most mini-challenges. It’s survival with romance sprinkled on top, as if they think sending the cast out in freezing weather will make our hearts race faster.
I know better. The cold just sharpens everything. Hunger. Need. Rage.
I ride with Ethan for the first leg and keep my hands clasped on his shoulders as Creed guns his throttle ahead of us, spraying up powder. Gideon’s smirking under his helmet beside him. I can’t hear what they’re saying over the roar, but Creed’s body is rigid, with tension rolling off him in waves as Ryan stays steady on the path in the distance.
We reach the destination first, a cleared meadow ringed by pines heavy with snow, where Elena and the crew are waiting. Ethan immediately starts digging a frosty trench for a windbreak. Creed rushes in, right behind, moving like a machine, gathering wood. Gideon joins us next, with Ryan arriving a few minutes after him.
Elena instructs me to encourage them and get into a shot with each man, so I rotate through Ryan, Gideon, and Ethan, saving the best for last.
When I reach Creed, I place a gloved hand on his arm. “Looking good. You’re in your element here.”
His eyes darken. “Always am when it’s about protecting what’s mine,” he growls. I have no idea what to say with the cameras rolling, so I stay quiet and squeeze his hand with a meek smile before rotating back to Ethan.
Gideon comes in first in the fire-starting relay by using flint and steel to get a flame roaring in under a minute. His mini-prize is thirty private minutes with me by the main bonfire while the rest “rest.”
I watch his brother from the corner of my eye as Gideon and I share a blanket. As he tells me the story of how he survived being trapped in a blizzard overnight, I notice Creed standing at the tree line. You don’t need to be a rocket scientist to know he’s upset. I can see it in the tight set of his jaw. When Gideonleans closer and brushes snow from my hair, Creed reaches his breaking point and snaps. Shit’s about to hit the fan.
He strides across the icy landscape with his boots crunching loud enough to turn heads. The producers shout “Cut!” but he isn’t stopping. Gideon sees him approaching, and we both slowly stand.
“Creed …” I try to think of something to say to calm him down, but it’s no use. He’s closing in on me like a freight train, and if looks could kill, Gideon and everyone else are dead meat. He doesn’t speak. Without a word, he tucks his arms under my knees and scoops me up mid-sentence, lifting me against his chest as if I weigh about as much as a snowflake.
“Creed! What the hell?” I squeal, clutching his jacket.
“Time’s up,” he snarls, already stomping toward his snowmobile.
The producers and cameras surround us while Elena yells, “Creed, you can’t—”
He isn’t listening, and obviously doesn’t care about a word they’re saying. He sets me on the seat, swings on behind me, wraps one arm around my waist, guns the throttle, and we tear into the dark pines, with the wind whipping and my body pressed flush against his.
The frosty air bites my cheeks, but Creed’s heat at my back is a furnace. My heart slams with anger, fear, and thrill all tangled together. He literally stole me from the date, from the show, from the rules.
We ride for what feels like forever until I see the outline of a cabin peeking out from behind the snowy pines. It’s a low log structure with smoke already curling from the chimney. I’ve never been to this place before, but have no doubt he planned this. He must have.
Creed kills the engine, lifts me off the seat and carries me inside the warm, cozy space without a word. When he kicks the door shut, the world narrows.
“But, you can’t just steal me,” I huff.
“I’m fucking done watching other men touch what belongs to me.” He pins me to the wall with his hands on either side of my head, caging me with his body. “Tell me to stop.”
I don’t.
My breath hitches as Creed’s lips crash against mine, hungry and demanding. I can taste the snow on him and the hint of smoke from the fire. His magnificent body is all hard muscle and heat. I grip his jacket tightly as my heart pounds, echoing in my ears like a drumbeat, drowning out the distant howl of the wind outside.
He gently pulls back with a gasp before his dark blue eyes search mine. “Tell me you don’t want this, Lys.”
