His eyes darken. Pupils dilate until the green is almost swallowed by black. He stares at my mouth, then back up to my eyes. The air between us crackles with static electricity.
As if on cue, the overhead lights flicker. Once. Twice. Then they die completely.
The cabin plunges into darkness, lit only by the orange glow of the fireplace.
I gasp, stumbling back a step.
Oliver’s hand shoots out, grabbing my waist to steady me. His grip is firm. Possessive. He hauls me flush against his hard body.
"Easy," he murmurs in the dark.
"The power..."
"Generator will kick in if I want it to," he says, his voice a rough growl near my ear. "But I prefer the fire."
We stand in the semi-darkness, the fire throwing long, dancing shadows against the walls. The wind howls outside, a beast trying to tear the door down. But inside, the only sound is the crackling wood and the ragged hitch of my breath.
His hand slides up my back, broad palm pressing me closer, molding my softness against his granite chest. I can feel the heat radiating off him, burning through the thick flannel shirt.
"You’re safe here," he says. It sounds like a vow.
"I know," I whisper.
He looks down at me, face half in shadow, half in golden light. A king in his castle. And I’m the stray he dragged in from the cold. But the way he looks at me... it’s not pity. It’s hunger.
His thumb traces the line of my jaw, tipping my head back.
"I should let you go," he rasps, his gaze dropping to my lips. "I should send you into that room and lock the door."
"Don't," I breathe, the word slipping out before my brain can check it. My hands find purchase on his biceps, gripping the rock-hard muscle.
"Don't?" He leans closer, his beard grazing my cheek. "You don't know what you’re asking for, Little Bird."
"I don't care."
A low groan rumbles in his chest. His resistance snaps.
His mouth crashes down on mine.
It’s not a gentle first kiss. It’s a claiming. His lips are hot, firm, demanding a response I give without hesitation. My mouth opens under his, and he tastes me, deep and thorough. He tastes like coffee and danger.
I melt against him, my injured ankle forgotten as he lifts me effortlessly, my feet dangling inches off the floor. His arm bands around my waist like iron, crushing me to him. I thread my fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer, needing more friction, more heat.
He growls against my mouth, a primal sound that vibrates straight to my core. His tongue sweeps into my mouth, taking ownership, stroking against mine in a rhythm that makes my knees weak.
For a moment, the blizzard outside doesn't exist. The cabin doesn't exist. There is only Oliver, and the overwhelming, terrifying reality of being his.
He breaks the kiss but doesn't let me down. He rests his forehead against mine, both of us breathing hard in the firelight.
"Go to bed, Avery," he commands, his voice raw, wrecked. "Go. Before I decide not to let you leave this room at all."
He sets me down, his hands lingering on my waist for a heartbeat too long before he rips them away.
I stumble back, lips throbbing, body humming with a live current of need. I turn and limp toward the bedroom door, feeling his gaze burning into my spine with every step.
I open the heavy wooden door and slip into the bedroom. I close it, leaning back against the wood, my fingers touching my swollen lips.
I don't lock it. I wouldn't dare.
