Page 108 of The Heart of Winter

Winter let out a sharp breath, then stood up, moving away from the mattresses, heading toward the exit. I was sure he was going to leave me in the middle of this unpleasant conversation, but then he suddenly turned around and said,

"This is really unexpected. We're not even in a relationship yet, and now you want me to do something like this?"

We stared at each other for a moment. It hadn't occurred to me before that he could deny me. Was hereallyrefusing? Or was he trying to tell me something else?

"I was going to put all of this off until we got back from Japan…" he whispered, more to himself than to me.

"Sorry for messing with your plan," I mumbled, feeling like an idiot. "But I don’t have control over it, Winter."

"I need to think about it," he said suddenly, his brows furrowed. "Give me a moment."

Then he grabbed his blankets, turned around, and… left!

The second his silhouette disappeared from view, I felt something tighten painfully in my throat, like someone was crushing my neck with a pair of giant pliers.

Shock and fear knocked the air out of me as I realized Winter didn’t want to go through this heat with me.

Whatever happened next would feel forced, even if he agreed, I knew it wouldn’t be because he wanted to, but because he felt obligated.

The feeling of being trapped. Humiliation. Helplessness.

Overwhelmed, I collapsed onto the mattress, feeling my eyes sting before I could even start resisting it. I hated my damn body. Hated its cursed cycles, its dual nature steamrolling over my emotions like a freight train. No choices. No control. Just a biological machine, programmed to function a certain way, no matter how I felt inside.

It could possibly ruin us. Me and Winter. And that would be an even greater tragedy than being castaways on some hellish island.

WINTER

Heat! Sariel was going into heat!

The worst timing possible!

I was pacing up and down the beach, thoughts tearing through my head like a flock of panicked crows, each one screeching a million raspy voices inside me.

For the first time in my life, I wanted to start off perfect, like in those slow-burn romance novels, the boss and the employee finding their way to each other’s hearts. A taboo thrill. A gradual build. Feelings growing sweeter over time.

Dating, hanging out, holding hands, a first kiss… but no.

That plan went to hell.

The moment I finally decided to wake up that dormant romantic part of myself and fight for it to bloom, Fate slapped me in the face. Now I was supposed to dive right into desperate, messy sex, on torn-up mattresses, in a damp cave, in the middle of a survival nightmare, scared we might never get rescued.

Everything in me resisted that… except one thing. So very uncharacteristic of me.

That other brain all guys have, started to take over much more strongly and quickly than I would’ve expected.

It basically wanted me to turn around and go back into the cave, jump into a frenzy of passion.

On some level, I had the feeling my body was already gearing up for it, tuning like strings, vibrating with joyful anticipation!

Joyful? For fuck’s sake, seriously? Under these circumstances?

And yet… when I closed my eyes, I could already see him, imagine him. That lean body lying on the mattress, aching for pleasure, dependent on me, begging for release.

The fucking hunger intensified. It was like a weed. I couldn’t dig it out. The question was: why?

Wanting sex this much wasn’t like me at all. I used to be hesitant, always trying to put it off for as long as I could, never really eager for it.

It started with me and Finn. We went on a few dates, and he insisted we go to his room to play some game.

---