I nodded. “Probably not quite the hobbies of most women you know.”
Most women you would be attracted to.
His nostrils flared, sensing my statement’s intent.
“The only hobbies of the women I know are things to make them look better than their friends,” he told me, giving me a small soothing smile. “But you are a force to be reckoned with,” he murmured, sounding like he was the one breaking underneath it.
I shifted my seat under the intensity of his stare, feeling it heat my cells until they ached—an ache for something I’d never felt before. My breath stuck against the walls of my lungs as he reached forward, gently tucking a finger underneath one curled strand of pale hair and letting it run through his fingertips.
In some ways, it was the most intimate touch I’d ever received.
“So warns my name.” My tongue slid along my lower lip, shuddering when his finger halted and his eyes delved into mine.
“Winna?” His eyebrow arched.
My chin dipped ever so slightly even as I swayed forward, the heat of him drawing me closer.
“It’s short for Winter,” I said. “My dad picked the name because I was a storm coming into this world. Mighty and dangerous. And I’ve lived up to it ever since.”
Winter Jean Madden.
His eyes flashed both with understanding and something more. “I would agree.”
I looked away. “You have every right to.”
Air tumbled into my lungs like a snowball, crashing and disintegrating on impact when Ryan stood in front of me, his knuckles finding their way underneath my chin.
“Powerful,” he rasped, dragging the smooth pad of his thumb over my skin. “Magnificent.”
My lips parted and my eyes zeroed in on the movement of his mouth, the proximity of his lips, and the force that rivaled gravity to pull them down to mine.
“Winter.”
The feel of his lips when they touched mine was like a burn of the most intense kind. I’d lived with the harsh extremes of nature, burned by ice and burned by fire. But Ryan, he was that intense but indiscriminate sensation between the two. Hot. Cold. Me. Him. It burned away distinctions and rational thought, and left nothing but the brand of his mouth on mine.
I moaned, slipping my tongue out and dragging it along the seam of his lips, relishing the sharp hiss before he welcomed my unabashed want to deepen the kiss.
I’d never felt like this from a kiss before.
My heart pounded, pumping my body full of a hot wildness I’d never experienced before. I was both free to feel but trapped by the addiction.
His tongue met mine, dueling in the truce our mouths sought to find. They licked and stroked with the same electrical vigor with which we fought, only now, the energy seemed to have found its rightful home.
Large palms cupped my cheeks, threading through my hair to angle my head. I reached out and fisted my hands into his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin underneath, and using his weight as leverage to lift myself up on my knees and bring our bodies flush together.
I wasn’t a force—this was a force.
It swelled around us in seconds, covered my skin, blinded my sight. It came out of nowhere like the storm outside, whiting out everything that existed before under the intensity of its power.
Ryan growled against me, his teeth tugging on my tongue and lips. He devoured my mouth like it was the first real sustenance he’d tasted since he’d gotten here—or maybe even before.
I shuddered and quaked, feeling the hardness of his chest pressed to mine, my breasts achingly crushed against him. I wanted more—needed more. The ache between my thighs was wild and relentless, clenching for something only he could give me—something that was hard and growing long against my stomach.
I gasped for air between the savage claim of his mouth. Unlike the rest of him—unlike what I would’ve expected—he kissed me with a ferocity that didn’t match the sleek shell he’d arrived here as.
The stubble on his chin was rough and delicious against my skin, extending the raw reminders of this moment from my lips onto my cheeks.
The kiss was wild and reckless—it was everything that told me it belonged in my life.
“Shit,” Ryan swore and tore his mouth from mine when the windows rattled and made Chewie jump up with a whimper. Instantly, regret ravaged the desire in his gaze and the heat was gone, leaving me colder than if I’d stepped back outside without all my layers of protection.
His hands dropped from my face and he pulled away. “I’m sorry.”
Of course, he was sorry.
Something like this—between him, a billionaire, and me, a butcher—didn’t happen for real.
It was like the storm. Swift and violent and incredibly devastating if one didn’t seek shelter in time.
Thankfully, Ryan had been lucid enough to seek shelter for the both of us, drawing away before a line was crossed that we couldn’t return from.
“It’s okay.” I wiped my hand over my mouth, feeling the unfamiliar fullness of well-kissed lips, and then, the uncomfortable ache of unfulfilled need.
“I didn’t mean—that’s not why I asked you—”
“It’s fine. Really,” I assured him with an air of confidence that I pulled out of nowhere—and out of necessity. “I should probably get Chewie and myself home, it sounds like it’s picking up again.”
With jerky movements, we both stood, but I avoided all contact. One more embarrassing thing to add to our incident-filled relationship.
Well done, Winna.
I bundled myself back up quickly, desperate for as many layers and space to put between us as I could—to hide how much I regretted not regretting our unexpected kiss.
“Thanks for dinner. And the beer,” I said, finally facing him with one hand on the door.
“Thank you for coming for me. For helping me,” he rasped, his body swaying like he was about to step forward to open the door for me before he caught himself and held himself back.
My mouth parted. He stood, jaw tight and arms folded, frustration abounding over his fire-lit features. I should’ve left then, but my eyes, ever the disobedient twins, took one last glance lower, past where his gray sweats hung on his hips—lower to where there was no need to convince myself that this desire had been one-sided.
My gaze snapped back up. “Goodnight,” I chirped, and followed Chewie out the door.
Who knew gray sweatpants could be such a dangerous thing?
Of all the dumb things…
I’d come to Michigan for snow and solitude, not to make the same mistakes all over again.
I winced, my body instinctively fighting against the notion that Winna Madden was a mistake. She was mischievous. And mightily maddening. But the way she tasted… nothing that sweet was ever a mistake.
My fingers gripped the edge of the sink, dragging a long warning breath down deep into my lungs. Mistake or not, I shouldn’t have kissed her. I shouldn’t have kissed her because nothing good could come of it.
Especially not after everything I’d told her.
A low groan ripped through my chest, and I tested the hot water before beginning to scrub the pan she’d used to cook the burgers. I didn’t know what I was thinking—revealing so much. I wished I could claim my brain was a little frostbitten after my attempt to walk the rest of the way home, but, though my muscles ached this morning, I wasn’t any worse for the wear.