Page 55 of Curvy Cabin Fever
He never has.
He leans against the counter like he hasn’t got a care in the world, shirtless in thisfreezingcabin, like he doesn’t know what that does to me.
But he knows.
Christ, he knows.
Maybe he’s always known.
I grit my teeth and rinse my mug at the sink. I need the familiar motion to keep my hands busy, to keep them from doing something I can’t take back.
But it’s not enough.
Tension grows tighter between us. Seconds stretch like the build of a storm I can’t outrun. I should say something—a threat, a dismissal, one of those gruff warnings I’ve used my whole life to keep people away.
The words won’t come.
There’s nothing left to hide behind, not after what I admitted.
I shouldn’t have said it, shouldn’t have given him that piece of me. It was too much. Everything.
I’m still trying to believe I said it at all. But it’s true—seeing him with someone else breaks me until I’m nothing but raw nerves.
“Rhett,” Morgan says behind me, his voice lower now. No teasing or smugness.
When he says my name like that, like it matters, like I mean something to him—it wrecks me.
I swallow, but it does nothing for the burning in my throat.
I should tell him to stop, to leave me be, to go back to whatever we were before this got so complicated I can’t breathe anymore.
But when I turn, when I face him, the world narrows.
He’s too close to me.
He watches me with that look—the one I can’t pretend doesn’t undo me. His dark eyes are soft, searching, patient in a way that twists my insides.
“I’m right here,” he whispers.
For him, maybe it’s simple.
Not for me.
Everything I built, every wall, every hard edge—it was never meant to keep him out.
It kept me in.
My hand moves before I decide to let it, sliding up the back of his neck. My fingers stroke his dark hair, and it’s like touching fire.
His breath catches. Mine too.
I’m not thinking anymore. I can’t. There’s only the pull toward him that I’ve fought for too long.
I close the space between us because I have to.
My mouth meets his, rough at first, clumsy. But Morgan doesn’t hesitate. He meets me halfway, hand curling around my waist, steadying me as I fall apart.
The kiss deepens without thought—slow, consuming, terrifying.
