Walk away, Ella. You don’t even want this.
My breath shakes when I let it out. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
Okay, maybe you do. What the fuck?
He stares at me. “Don’t start something you can’t finish, Ella. You’ll only hate yourself tomorrow.”
“I already hate myself! I hate myself for keeping him here when he should have left; I hate myself for replaying your kiss; I hate that my body wants you when my heart hates you. Hating myself tomorrow is no fucking change.”
He looks away and wets his lips. “Then deal with that hate. I’m not adding to it. I’m here to keep you alive—that’s it.”
This isn’t how this was supposed to go. None of this was supposed to happen. “God, I need to get out of this house.”
I stride by him and down the stairs, going for my boots at the back door and yanking them on, along with my coat.
Gable isn’t far behind. “Where are you going?”
“For a walk.” I pull up my hood and go to the front door, almost running out into the snow. I almost slip down the steps but grip the banister in time.
“Gibson.”
“Leave me alone, Gable!”
“So you can freeze to death?”
I ignore him and keep walking, passing the car and heading for the path that leads to the forest. I want to be alone, but his footsteps are approaching fast.
Fuck this.
I break into a run.
“Gibson, what the fuck are you doing!”
My hair whips back as I push my legs harder, ignoring the cold biting into my cheeks. But the snow is too deep, and Gable catches up with me quickly, grabbing my hand and yanking me to him so our bodies meet.
“Where are you going?” he demands, glaring down at me.
“Away from you! Away from that fucking place!” I scream, pulling my wrists free from his grip. He takes hold of my hand and starts half-dragging me back to the cabin. “Let go of me, Gable!” He ignores me until I snatch my hand back, and he whirls to face me.
His expression is furious as his breath billows out like smoke between us. “Am I really that bad? Is me saving you really that fucking awful?”
“No, it’s the opposite!” I scream, my words fueled by guilt and the terror behind what I’m about to say. “You’re not just keeping me alive, Gable, you’re making mefeelalive. You’re fixing wounds you didn’t even make.And I don’t know how you’re doing it, but …” I almost choke on a sob. “You’re making me feel things for you and I can’t?—”
He rests his forehead against mine, eyes squeezed closed. “Don’t fucking say it, Gibson. I’m holding on by a fucking thread here.”
My lip trembles. “I’m falling for you and I don’t know what to do about it.”
Gable exhales, jaw tight. “Fuck. Fuck, fuck …” He opens his eyes, lifting his forehead from mine but remaining close. “Fuck it to fucking hell.”
It's seconds. Seconds, and his lips crash against mine. The flame between us roars to life and I respond with the same animalistic need, raking my fingers through his hair as he devours my mouth, his tongue stroking against mine.
It’s reckless, foolish, pointless to do this. We’re only hurting ourselves, but I meant every word I said.
I’m falling for him, and I already know he’ll break my heart.
But he can have it anyway.
I don’t know how we end up in the snow, me on my back, him on his knees, but he tears my coat open. He kisses me again, one hand resting by my head, the other unbuttoning my jeans.
