Chapter 13
Silas
She was asleep again.
Or close enough to it.
I could tell by the rhythm of her breathing, the faint flutter of it against my collarbone where she’d drifted closer. Every few seconds, she’d sigh, and it would send a soft current through the space between us — warm, then gone, then back again.
It was unbearable.
I’d told myself it was fine, that this — her tucked against me, my arm a careful weight at her waist — was innocent. Necessary, even. The fire had nearly gone out, and she’d been shivering. I was helping. That was all.
But then she’d made that quiet sound, that little sigh of relief when she’d pressed her hand to my chest, and something in me cracked.
Her palm was still there now, light as a feather, right over my heart. The heat of her skin bled through the thin cotton of my shirt. My pulse was steady enough, I hoped. I didn’t dare look.
In the faint glow of the embers, I could see the curve of her jaw, the pink in her hair gone to silver in the low light. She was so young. Alive in ways I’d long forgotten how to be.
She shifted again, nestling closer, the blanket slipping just enough for my hand to brush the soft edge of her sweater. My sweater, technically. The one that hung halfway down her thighs, hiding nothing from my imagination.
I swallowed hard. Focused on the ceiling — on the steady tick of melting ice somewhere outside.
“This is a bad idea,” I murmured, though I wasn’t sure if I meant speaking it into existence — or wanting it.
Her voice came, drowsy, from somewhere near my throat. “You’re thinking too loudly.”
I almost laughed. Almost. “Oh, am I?”
“Mhm.” She burrowed closer, eyes still closed, her words soft enough to almost miss. “Just be warm. Be here.”
Be here.
As if that were something I even knew how to do anymore.
So I held still. Let her breathe. Let her hand stay there, over my chest, right where everything was unraveling.
And in the dark, as the wind pressed harder against the windows, I told myself it was only the cold that kept me awake.
When I woke, the light was pale and slow, the kind that filters through snow and frost and never really makes it past the window. The fire was a low sigh beside us, a scatter of dying embers that still painted the walls in tired gold.
I woke to warmth.
Genuine warmth. Soft and pliant and tucked against me like she’d always belonged there. For a moment I didn’t know where I was, only that something alive was pressed into my chest and my hand had found a home beneath her shirt.
Then she shifted, and the memory came back in pieces. The fire. The cold. Her voice in the dark asking if she could — just for a little while — be close.
Now my palm was spread over the curve of her breast, my breath fanning against the back of her neck. And she was sleeping still, her heartbeat a small, steady rhythm beneath my hand.
I should have moved.
Moved my hand. Moved my body.
I should have rolled away before I noticed how her hair smelled faintly of smoke and lilac shampoo, before I felt the way her hips fit against me in perfect, ruinous alignment.
Before I felt my erection growing against the swell of her backside. But the cabin was still dim, the fire burned low, and she was so warm. So quiet.
I let myself breathe her in, slow and careful, like she might shatter if I exhaled too hard. The tip of my nose brushed her shoulder by accident. Or maybe not.
“Silas,” she murmured, not quite awake, my name turned into a sigh.
God.
I closed my eyes. “Still here.”
She made a small, satisfied sound — half hum, half exhale — and wriggled back until there was no space left between us. My pulse stuttered, shame and longing tangled into something sharp and unrecognizable.
My cock grew harder as she settled back against me. I knew she could feel it. And my hand — fuck — groping her underneath her sweater.
My sweater.
“You seem comfy.” She said softly, voice suddenly as thick as I felt. It wasn’t an invitation. Not really. But it was enough to keep me perfectly still, memorizing the feel of her against me, the morning light pooling over the floorboards, the impossible peace of it.
And when she finally went still again, I pressed my forehead to the curve of her shoulder and whispered, too softly for her ears, “I’m trying to be good.”
I stared at the ceiling. Tried to count the creaks of the cabin, the faint hiss of the fire, the wind rattling the windowpanes. Anything that wasn’t the heartbeat I could feel under my hand, steady and alive and far too close.
My fingers flexed before I could stop them, gently kneading her breast. She sighed again — like the sound meant something to her — and I felt something in me unravel.
I’d forgotten how heavy peace could be. How dangerous it was to want something so simple.
She moved once more, with the faintest tilt of her head, and her voice, low and blurred with sleep, reached me through the quiet. “Why are you awake?”
Because you’re here.
I swallowed. “Habit.”
She made a small, sleepy hum in reply, one I felt more than heard, and then her breathing evened again.
The fire continued to crackle softly. Snow shifted against the windows. And I stayed still, pretending it was just body heat that kept me close, pretending I wasn’t already half-gone.
“Silas,” she breathed, and there was more in her words than just drowsiness this time. “Silas—” Her hips twitched, seeking something that I was dying to give her.
“We can’t,” I whispered into her hair, refusing to let go.
“Why?” Her words were practically a whimper as her hand found mine, holding my fingers against the warm skin of her breast. “Please.”
“This isn’t what you want,” but my thumb found her nipple, tweaking it gently.
I could live off her responsive sound alone.
“I’m a big girl.” Her hand slipped behind her, palming my erection through my sweats. “I think I can decide what I want, Silas.”
I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my chest as her hand gripped me through the fabric. The heat of her palm seared me, even through the thin material. I knew I should pull away, stop this before it went too far, but my body refused to cooperate.
Instead, I pressed into her touch, a low groan escaping my lips. “Fuck,” I muttered, burying my face in her neck. “You're playing with fire.”
She arched back against me, her hips rolling in a slow grind that had me seeing stars. “Good thing we’re snowed in,” she whispered, her voice husky with desire. “I’m getting cold, Silas. If you’re all the fire you’re claiming to be…”
I passed my thumb over her hardened nipple, teeth grazing her pulse point. “Colette,” I bit back a moan as she arched into my hand. “Colette.”
“My name’s Cole.” She bit back, rocking her hips backwards.
The remainder of my control snapped. I tugged on her shoulder with my free hand, rolling her onto her back, and underneath me. “No, it’s not.” Her eyes were hooded, lips parted on a pant.
I leaned closer, relishing the way her eyes fluttered closed. But I wasn’t leaning in for a kiss. I pressed my lips to her throat, sucking gently on the sensitive skin.
“Arms up, little menace.” I tried not to growl, but every bone in my body was strung tight.
But she stayed still, fingers digging into my arms, a sly smirk ghosting her features. “No,” her response came quickly, “You’re not in charge.”
“Fuck yes, I am.” I nipped the skin of her jaw, causing a yelp to force its way out of her mouth. “You don’t have to listen, but I will give you what you’re asking for. Is that what you want?”
As I pulled back, I saw her eyes roll. “Unfortunately,” she breathed, her hands moving from my arms to my hair. “Unfortunately for me, you’re insanely hot, and I want you to fuck me senseless.”
“You don’t know what you’re asking for, Colette.”
“Cole,” she corrected, tugging on my hair and pulling a groan from my lips. “Shut up and do something useful with your mouth, Silas.”
“You’re not in charge,” I snapped back, but I couldn’t help the way my hands moved to the hem of my sweater, and pulled it upwards, putting her breasts on display just for me.
It was embarrassing how my words failed me at that exact moment. She was… perfect. The soft curve of her stomach, the perfect, plump shape of her tits — it was like every dream I’d never had, laying bare in front of me.
“Fuck,” she shivered, “I could use some of that fire right about now, hotshot.”
My lips hovered just above her peaked nipple as a laugh escaped me. “It’d be a goddamn Christmas miracle if you showed even a little bit of patience, Colette.”
“Fuck,” she whimpered, “Silas Reed has a mean—”