Page 77 of Curvy Cabin Fever
I nod, too blissed out to form full words. “Better than good.”
Morgan presses a kiss to my forehead, his voice a murmur. “You’re fucking incredible.”
I close my eyes and let myself be held—one hand in Rhett’s, one leg tangled with Morgan’s—and think, maybe I can have this.
Maybe this doesn’t have to be impossible.
28
DAMIEN
Ihear them.
Everyfuckingsound.
The creak of the floorboards. The rustle of clothes being peeled off. Her first breathless moan.
I try not to listen.
I sit out on the front porch, a mug of coffee in my hand and a war in my chest. Snow still blankets the trees, sunlight hitting the top layer and throwing blinding flashes across the clearing. The air’s cold enough to burn, but I don’t go back inside.
I can’t.
Because the second I do, I’ll hear her again.
And that sound—Aria’s moan—is branded into my goddamn bones.
I told her she could have them. I said it with a straight face. I even meant it, in some part of me that was trying to be decent and accepting. Like it wouldn’t rip me in half to know she was being touched by someone else—someone not me.
But I felt it.
When she moaned for Rhett, when they made her come—I fucking felt it like it was my own skin being touched.
I’ve never wanted to storm into a room and drag someone away so badly in my life.
Not out of jealousy, but out of fuckingneed.
Because I love her.
And I want her every goddamn way a man can have a woman.
I tip the mug back, ignoring how the coffee’s gone lukewarm. My other hand clenches against the armrest, knuckles tight. I’m not angry—not really. Just…weird, man.
Inside, Aria laughs.
There’s a reason I haven’t slept. I sat out here while it all happened—every kiss, every groan, every goddamn gasp—and didn’t move.
Not because I didn’t care.
Because I didn’t trust myself if I went back in.
I’m not gentle, not like Morgan. I don’t smirk and flirt and ease my way in. I don’t burn slow like Rhett either. I’m a fucking wildfire. I consume. And she deserves to breathe before I do that to her.
The door creaks open behind me.
It’s her. I’d know her footsteps anywhere.
“Hey,” she says softly, like she’s approaching an animal that might bite.
