Chapter Twenty-Four
Liam
I’ve had Maggie in every way imaginable—on top of me, beneath me, pressed against the wall, her body pliant and eager, fitting against mine like we were made for this.
Now, as the faint pink glow of dawn creeps through the snow-covered window, casting its soft light across her bare shoulders, I can’t stop the gnawing fear clawing at my chest.
Because this—her lying tangled in the sheets beside me, her steady breaths mingling with the crackling remnants of the fireplace—might be the last time.
She might walk out that door when the sun is fully risen, leaving me with nothing but the ghost of her laugh, the warmth of her touch, and the way she looked at me when she finally let her walls down.
And I don’t know if I can let her go.
I sit up slowly, careful not to wake her, and rake a hand through my hair.
My body aches in the best way from the hours we spent exploring every inch of each other, but my mind won’t rest. What if this is it?
A single night, however unforgettable, is a cruel trade for the way she’s already rooted herself in my head—and maybe even my heart.
I glance down at her, the soft curve of her back barely covered by the sheet, her hair fanned out like an invitation. She’s beautiful, unguarded like this. Vulnerable in a way that makes me want to shield her from anything and everything that could ever hurt her.
The thought hits me like a gut punch. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before—not like this. And now, I’m terrified of what comes next.
The soft hum of electricity returning fills the room as the lights flicker on.
Maggie stirs slightly, her freckled cheek pressed against the pillow, her lashes casting delicate shadows across her face.
I should probably let her sleep, but I can’t tear my eyes away.
She looks peaceful, utterly content, and I can’t help but wonder if I had something to do with that.
I reach for my dead phone on the nightstand, the screen dark and unresponsive, and rummage through the bedside drawer in search of a cord. My fingers finally close around one, and I plug it in, watching the screen light up as it begins to charge.
By the time I glance up, the horizon is painted in delicate streaks of pink and orange, the first rays of sunlight creeping through the curtains.
The storm is gone, leaving a pristine, glittering blanket of snow outside.
The whole world looks like it’s starting over—fresh, unblemished—and for some reason, it makes my chest ache.
Maggie stirs again, her fingers curling into the sheets. A few strands of hair have fallen into her face, and before I can stop myself, I reach out and gently tuck them behind her ear. Her skin is warm beneath my fingertips, and the simple touch sends a rush of something undefinable through me.
I sit back and let out a deep breath. The sun might be rising, but I don’t feel ready for the day to start—not if it means letting her go.
She lets out a contented sigh beside me, the soft sound breaking the quiet of the room. I watch as her brows knit together for a moment before relaxing, her breathing steady and peaceful. My chest tightens, and I swallow hard against the knot forming in my throat.
Snowboarding has been my entire life. Every decision I’ve made, every sacrifice, every success—it’s all been for the thrill of the mountain, the rush of the air, the fleeting moments of weightlessness.
But as I sit here, watching her, the steady rise and fall of her chest, I can’t help but wonder… what if there’s something more?
What if there’s a new life waiting for me?
One that’s slower, simpler, and undeniably sweeter?
The kind of life where mornings start with sunlight streaming through the windows and her sleepy smile greeting me instead of alarms and training schedules.
The kind of life where my biggest challenge isn’t landing a trick but making her laugh.
What if this life—this view right here—is better than anything I’ve been chasing?
I drag a hand through my hair, the weight of the thought almost too much to process. For so long, I’ve defined myself by the sport, by the competition. But now… now there’s this possibility, this aching desire for something real, something lasting.
Maggie shifts again, her fingers clutching the edge of the blanket, and my heart feels like it’s being pulled in two different directions. Am I ready to let go of the life I’ve always known? Could I truly start over?
She murmurs something in her sleep, her voice soft and unintelligible, but it grounds me. Maybe I don’t have to have all the answers right now. What if life is less about chasing the next big thing and more about finding someone who makes you want to stay?
My phone buzzes on the bedside table, but I ignore it, letting it rattle against the wood while I sink deeper into the mattress.
Without thinking, I curl my body around Maggie, pulling her closer.
She responds immediately, her hand instinctively resting on my chest. The simple touch sends a jolt through me, making my heart pound against her palm.
“Morning,” she mumbles, her voice thick with sleep. Her words are soft, and the way she nestles closer for a brief moment feels far more intimate than anything we did last night.
“Morning,” I reply, my lips twitching into a lazy smile.
Suddenly, she pulls her hand away and covers her mouth. “Morning breath,” she groans, her cheeks flushing a deep pink. It’s the kind of honesty that catches me off guard and makes me like her even more.
I chuckle, propping myself up on an elbow to watch her. “I’m sure it’s not that bad.”
“It’s that bad,” she insists dramatically, her eyes narrowing playfully before she quickly slips out of bed.
My breath hitches as the blanket falls away, revealing her completely bare form. She’s all smooth curves and soft edges, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe. She’s stunning, and the easy confidence in the way she darts toward the bathroom only makes her more so.
I don’t even try to stop my grin as the bathroom door closes behind her. “You’re killing me, Cooper,” I mutter to myself, falling back against the pillows.
The phone buzzes again, but I can’t bring myself to care. All I can think about is how fast she’s taken over my mind and how, somehow, I’m already dreading the moment she walks out of my life.
When she finally reemerges, Maggie saunters over to my side of the bed, her freshly scrubbed face glowing in the soft morning light.
Without hesitation, she crawls in beside me, hooking her leg over mine as her head finds its place on my chest. The warmth of her skin against mine sends a surge of contentment through me, like she’s the missing piece I didn’t know I was looking for.
“Last night was…” she begins, soft and hesitant.
“Amazing?” I finish for her, my fingers brushing a strand of hair away from her face.
She lifts her eyes to mine, those big, mesmerizing blues locking me in place. For a moment, her lips twitch upward, but whatever she’s thinking clouds over, and her brow furrows. I can’t stand the look of doubt on her face, so I gently smooth the lines with my thumb.
“What’s wrong, Cooper?” I ask softly.
Instead of answering, she buries her face in my chest, her arms curling around me. The way she clings to me feels so natural, so right, that it’s hard to believe we’ve only had one night together. It’s as if she’s always been here, like this is where she belongs.
“I have to leave tomorrow,” she murmurs, her words muffled against my skin.
“And?” I prompt, sensing there’s more.
Her body stiffens, and I feel the shift immediately. Her walls are going up, brick by cautious brick.
“And I’m not sure I’m ready to leave,” she admits so quietly that I almost don’t catch it.
I tilt my head to look at her, trying to gauge the emotions flickering across her face. “You’re not?” I echo, steady but hopeful.
She shrugs, her cheek still pressed against my chest. “Maybe.”
I want to tell her not to go. I want to say all the things I’m feeling, lay it all out there, but I know better. Maggie is like a skittish animal—too much too soon, and she’ll bolt. Instead, I tighten my hold on her.
“You don’t have to decide anything right now,” I say. “But for what it’s worth, I’m not ready for you to leave either.”
Her breath catches, and she shifts slightly to look up at me again. Her expression is guarded, but there’s a flicker of something—hope, maybe?—in her eyes.
“Liam…” she starts, but I shake my head, cutting her off gently.
“No pressure,” I assure her, brushing my lips against her forehead. “We’ll figure it out, okay?”
She nods, her body relaxing against mine again, but I can still feel the tension lingering beneath the surface.
I don’t want to push her, but I also don’t want her to think this is just some fling.
Not to me. Not when it feels like she’s already carved out a space in my chest that I didn’t even know was empty.
Holding her like this feels as natural as breathing, as if every nerve in my body was designed to respond to her touch.
We move instinctively, like two halves of a whole finally finding each other.
At the exact same moment, she lifts her head as I lower mine, and our lips collide in a kiss that doesn’t feel like all the others.
This one is frenzied and hungry, an urgent tangle of passion and need that threatens to undo me completely.
Maggie climbs on top of me, her soft thighs bracketing my hips as her hands dive into my hair, tugging me closer. She’s completely in control, and I can’t help but love it.
“Condom?” she breathes against my lips, her voice raspy and filled with longing.
I shake my head, my chest rising and falling heavily. “We used them all last night.”
Her lips curve into a slow, sensual smile as she leans in, pressing a softer, more deliberate kiss to my mouth. “I want you,” she whispers.
The words hit me like a punch to the chest—warm, intense, and grounding. There’s a weight to them that I can’t ignore, something real and unspoken that roots itself deep in my heart. I swallow hard, knowing there’s no going back.
In one swift motion, I flip her over, pinning her gently beneath me as I lower my body onto hers.
Our mouths meet again, the kiss slow and consuming this time.
Her hands roam over my back, her fingertips trailing fire down my spine until they reach the curve of my ass.
She squeezes, and I groan into her mouth, my body responding on instinct.
Her legs part, and I take a moment to lock eyes with her, silently asking for permission.
The look she gives me—a mix of trust, desire, and something deeper—sends a shiver down my spine.
I push into her slowly, bare and raw, and the sensation is overwhelming.
She gasps, her back arching off the bed as her hands clutch at my shoulders.
I still for a moment, giving us both time to adjust, but Maggie’s hips tilt upward, urging me on. I pull out slowly before sliding back in, and the feeling is enough to make my vision blur. Her moans fill the room. It’s a sound I could listen to forever.
“Liam,” she whispers, her nails digging into my back as I find a steady rhythm.
I kiss her again, unable to stop myself. Every movement, every sound, every sensation feels amplified. It’s not just sex—it’s connection. It’s intimacy. It’s us, becoming something more.
I lose myself in her, the world fading away until there’s nothing but Maggie. And for the first time, I feel like I’ve found exactly where I’m meant to be.
She comes undone beneath me, her body arching gracefully, fitting perfectly against mine like she was made to be here. I follow moments later, her arms wrapping around my shoulders, holding me close as if she’s anchoring me to reality.
As the intensity ebbs, leaving only the warmth of her skin against mine, a strange thought sneaks into my mind: How do I walk away from this? How do I go back to who I was before her?
“We should shower,” Maggie murmurs, her fingertips tracing lazy circles over my stomach. Her voice is silky but carries a hint of practicality. “You have an early morning.”
“Yeah,” I manage, though my chest feels heavy. “I guess so.”
I sit up, pulling her with me, our bodies reluctant to part. She smirks and raises an eyebrow. “I’ll get it started?”
“Sure,” I say, watching her as she stands, completely comfortable in her own skin. “Do you want me to charge your phone? Mine was dead earlier.”
She pauses in the doorway, her hand resting lightly on the frame. “Yeah, it’s in my bag. Thanks.”
Before disappearing into the bathroom, she leans in to kiss me—a soft, lingering gesture that leaves me wishing she wasn’t walking away, even for a moment.
I climb out of bed and find her purse on the chair by the window. It’s small, and her phone is easy to spot. I grab the charging cord from the bedside table, identical to the one I used earlier for my own phone, and plug hers in.
As soon as the phone connects, the screen lights up, and messages flood in. I glance down out of habit, but the words freeze me in place.
Have you broken the story yet?
Why aren’t you responding?
Are you screwing the truth out of him?
Maggie? You better not be sleeping with him.
He’s an assignment.
Confirm the story and come home.
The words blur together, but their meaning is unmistakable. My stomach churns, and the air feels suddenly too thin to breathe. The pounding in my chest has nothing to do with the physical exertion of earlier.
I sit on the edge of the bed, her phone still in my hand, my mind racing. The messages keep coming, their tone more frantic and demanding.
“Liam?” Her voice carries from the bathroom, light and unburdened. “Everything okay out there?”
I stare at the phone, at the damning words glaring up at me, and for the first time in years, I feel completely shaken.