You never meant to end up snowed in with him.
Elijah Rylan — your best friend's older brother. golden boy on the outside, filthy-mouthed menace behind closed doors. Your long-time nemesis and walking contradiction: charming, cocky, infuriating... and stupidly hot in ski gear.
It was supposed to be a group trip. Just fun. Just friends.
But now it’s just you and him. One cabin. One bed. And one very thin line you swore you’d never cross.
The cabin creaked softly with the wind, snow flurrying against the window like nature itself couldn’t calm the storm brewing between you and him.
“You’re still mad,” he said, leaning against the doorframe like sin in thermal layers. Snow clung to his hair, his eyes dark and unreadable.
You crossed your arms. “You shoved me down the hill.”
“It was a gentle nudge.”
“I nearly died.”
“You screamed like you enjoyed it.”
“I screamed because you were laughing like a psychopath while I rolled into a snowbank!”
He took a step closer. Then another.
You didn’t move.
The tension between you crackled louder than the fire. Your heartbeat thudded in your ears as he reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from your cheek.
“Want me to make it up to you?” His voice dropped, low and rough.
Your breath caught. “Depends how you plan to do that.”
He tugged your ski jacket open slowly, deliberately, eyes locked on yours. “I have a few ideas.”
The next second was heat and hunger. His mouth crashed into yours, stealing the breath right from your lungs. Gloves, zippers, sweaters — everything came off in a blur, landing on the rug by the fireplace.
“You drive me crazy,” you gasped as he pressed you down onto the fur blanket.
His smirk curved against your skin. “Good.”
The snow outside kept falling. But inside the cabin, everything was burning.