“The draft is coming from the window,” Liam murmured. He didn’t pull his hand away. Instead, his thumb traced the line of my jaw, a slow and steady movement that made my breath hitch. “You’re freezing, Clara.”
I couldn’t look away from him. The fire had died down to a deep, pulsing orange, casting long shadows across the wooden walls. In the dim light, his eyes looked darker, more focused. I felt a sudden, sharp awareness of the small space between us, the way the air seemed to vanish every time he breathed.
“I can get another blanket,” I whispered, though I didn’t move to get up.
“Stay,” he said. It wasn’t a request. He shifted on the couch, sliding closer until his thigh was pressed firmly against mine. The heat radiating from him was a stark contrast to the chill creeping through the cabin. He reached for my glass, his hand covering mine on the stem, guiding it back to the table without ever breaking skin contact.
We sat in silence for a few minutes, the only sound being the occasional pop of a dying log in the grate. The tension was an actual weight now, something physical that we were both leaning into. I could feel his gaze tracing my lips, then moving back up to my eyes. He looked like he was weighing a decision, calculating the risk of crossing a line that had been drawn years ago.
“You’re thinking about it,” I said, my voice sounding smaller than I wanted it to.
Liam didn’t deny it. He just let out a slow breath that fanned across my cheek. “Thinking about what?”
“The fact that you’re not supposed to look at me like that. Not since Sarah became my best friend. Not since you decided that being the responsible older brother was your only personality trait.”
He let out a dry, short laugh and shifted his weight, leaning in until our foreheads were almost touching. The scent of him was overwhelming now, a mix of cold winter air and that deep, woody musk. “Maybe I got tired of being responsible,” he murmured. “Maybe the snow is just making me honest.”
He didn’t kiss me immediately. Instead, he let his hand slide from my jaw down to the nape of my neck, his fingers tangling in the stray hairs that had escaped my ponytail. The touch was firm, grounding me in the moment. I could feel the thrum of his pulse where my arm pressed against his side. It was a frantic, heavy beat that matched my own.
“Honest is a dangerous way to be,” I breathed, though I didn’t pull away.
Liam’s grip tightened slightly at the back of my neck, pulling me just a fraction of an inch closer. The distance between us had vanished, replaced by a magnetic pull that felt inevitable. He didn’t rush it. He lingered there, his breath warm against my skin, letting the silence of the snowed-in cabin amplify every heartbeat. It felt as if the rest of the world had been erased by the storm, leaving only this small, flickering circle of warmth.
When he finally closed the gap, the kiss was slow and tentative, almost as if he were asking for permission. But as I leaned into him, the hesitation vanished. He tasted like the red wine and something uniquely his own. The kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, mirroring the tension that had been simmering beneath the surface for years. My hands found the heavy fabric of his sweater, clutching at him to keep from floating away.
He shifted, his weight pressing me back into the cushions of the couch. The movement was fluid and natural, his body fitting against mine as if it had been designed for this specific moment. One of his hands slid down to the small of my back, pulling me flush against him, while the other remained tangled in my hair. The heat was dizzying now, a sharp contrast to the frost creeping across the windowpanes.
For a moment, the reality of the situation flickered in my mind. Sarah. The friendship. The unspoken rule that her brother was off-limits. But as Liam trailed a row of slow, deliberate kisses from my lips to my jawline, those thoughts felt distant and unimportant. The air in the room felt thick, charged with a kind of electricity that only exists when two people have spent too long pretending they don’t want each other.
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