Page 22 of Curvy Cabin Fever

RHETT

I hear Aria’s laugh, and it completely guts me.

It’s a little breathy sound drifting from the kitchen—but it hits me with the force of a bullet.

I’m sitting motionless on the living room couch, nursing a coffee that has long gone cold, and every single part of my being seems wired to the sound of her voice.

Something primal within me recognizes her presence before my conscious mind fully registers it.

She’s laughing with Morgan.

My Morgan.

He makes her feel good. Safe. Beautiful. Everything I’ve failed to do. Because he’s a better person than me. I’m the one who cruelly called her those unforgivable words in a moment of blind rage.

My stomach churns violently, and I set the mug down with too much force.

It clinks loudly against the wooden surface and yet draws absolutely no one’s attention, which somehow makes the situation feel infinitely worse.

I’ve gradually become nothing more than background noise in this house.

The guy who couldn’t handle his own complicated emotions, so he lashed out destructively instead.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

None of it was.

My feelings have become a tangled mess. I can’t seem to unravel them no matter how hard I try.

Aria distracts me by moving into the living room, gracefully curling up in the armchair with a book open in her lap, avoiding my gaze. She tucks her legs beneath her, exposing one shoulder where her sweater has slipped. Damien’s sweater, I think. Or Morgan’s.

Definitely not mine.

I never gave her anything but shit.

Her lips move subtly as though she’s mouthing the words, completely absorbed in whatever world exists between those pages.

And despite everything, I desperately want to go to her.

I want to kneel beside that chair, rest my head in her lap, and tell her I’m sorry.

That I need her and I don’t know how to navigate any of this properly, but I genuinely want to try.

But I remain rooted in place, replaying everything I’ve left unsaid between us.

She glances up suddenly—her eyes catching mine across the room. And for once, she doesn’t flinch at the sight of me, but she doesn’t smile, either. Instead, she watches me with a guarded expression, like she’s mentally preparing herself for another emotional blow.

“Can we talk?” I ask, keeping my voice deliberately low.

She nods slowly and deliberately sets the book aside. “Sure.” Her voice quivers, and I curse myself.

I did that to her.

I move to sit across from her, perching tensely on the edge of the couch with my hands braced firmly against my knees.

“I didn’t mean any of what I said. I said those horrible things because I was angry and scared and... honestly, I hated how it made me feel, seeing you with him. With them.”

Her eyebrow lifts. “So you punished me for it? For feelings you couldn’t handle?”

I swallow, cringing at the accuracy of her assessment. “Yeah. Pretty much.”

She doesn’t look away, like she’s waiting for me to continue.

Fucking hell.

“I’m not good at this,” I confess, the words feeling raw in my throat.

“I’ve never—I don’t let people in. I don’t have meaningful connections.

It’s always been difficult for me to trust. And then, when I saw you with Damien, something inside me panicked.

When I saw how you were with Morgan, something in me just.. .broke. It’s not an excuse, though.”

Her lips part slightly, confusion flickering briefly across her face. “You were jealous ?”

I look away, unable to meet her searching gaze. “Intensely. Of both of them.”

And of you.

But I can’t go there now. She couldn’t handle the Morgan thing—even I can’t.

The silence is loud between us, and I know she wants more.

“I was jealous,” I repeat, my eyes fixed firmly on the floor. “And I wanted to hate that feeling. But I couldn’t shake it. Then I started hating myself for feeling that way. For wanting...for wanting something I didn’t think I deserved.”

Her voice comes softly when she finally speaks. “So you lashed out at me instead of dealing with your feelings?”

“Yeah,” I admit.

She exhales slowly, deliberately. “You’ve been punishing all of us. Including yourself.”

I force myself to look at her then—really look at the damage I’ve caused.

“I don’t want to be that person anymore,” I state with newfound conviction. “I don’t want to be the reason you look at me like you’re constantly bracing for impact. I genuinely want to make things right between us.”

She stands up without warning and walks toward me, and I have no idea if she’s going to slap me or simply walk past me altogether.

To my surprise, she carefully straddles my lap, her knees bracketing my thighs, and cups my face gently between her warm hands.

“Then stop talking,” she whispers against my skin. “And show me you mean it.”

Oh, fuck.

Our mouths come together like we’ve both been starved for this connection.

There’s nothing gentle or tentative about our kiss. This is all teeth and desperate breath and tongues tangling in the charged silence. Her fingers thread tightly through my hair. Mine grip her hips firmly as though she’s the only thing keeping me anchored to this moment.

I didn’t expect her to taste or feel like this .

I lift her without breaking our connection. She gasps against my mouth.

Her fucking body.

I carry her down the hallway with surprising certainty—as though every time I stomped down here, pretending I didn’t give a shit, my mind was imagining doing this.

The moment I lay her down on the bed, everything inside me breaks open, my voice rasping against her soft skin.

“I hated watching them touch you,” I murmur against her heated skin.

Her shirt disappears between us, my hands tossing it to the floor.

“I hated seeing how much you wanted them instead of me.”

Her bra joins the growing pile of discarded clothing, revealing her full, soft breasts with their dusky rose nipples.

I take in the beautiful curves of her body with awe—the swell of her stomach, the generous sweep of her hips, the way her skin glows in the soft light of the bedroom.

There’s something addictive about her figure, all gorgeous curves and inviting deliciousness that my hands can’t get enough of.

“I hated that I couldn’t stop wanting you, every minute of every fucking day.”

I kiss her deeply, as though trying to erase every harsh word, every emotional wound I’ve carelessly inflicted on her heart. She arches beneath me, warm and responsive and beautifully vulnerable, and I swear I can feel her forgiveness flowing through every inch of skin where we connect.

This isn’t romantic. It’s pure lust and desire.

I want to remember this moment forever. I sweep my hand over her throat, tightening it softly before her eyes roll in her head, relinquishing all control to me.

Her hands attempt to shove down her panties, and like an animal about to feast on its prey, I yank them off in one swift movement so her bare pussy is displayed for me, glistening with her arousal.

For me.

“Fuck, Aria.”

I pause, breathless, taking in the sight before me.

The glow from the lamplight on Aria’s skin highlights every beautiful curve of her body.

Her full breasts rise and fall with each quickened breath, nipples pebbled.

The slope of her stomach leads my eyes to the curve of her hips, and I’m overwhelmed with a need I’ve never felt before.

For anyone.

“You’re stunning,” I whisper, voice rough with need.

My hands tremble as they trace the contours of her body. The contrast of my tanned fingers against her alabaster skin is too much. I’ve never wanted to memorize someone’s body the way I want to memorize hers—every dip, every curve, every place that makes her breath catch when I touch her.

There’s something about seeing her like this, vulnerable and trusting beneath me despite everything that’s happened between us. The weight of that trust hits me square in the chest, stealing my breath.

Her eyes meet mine, pupils dilated with desire, a flush spreading across her cheeks and down her neck to her chest. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than Aria in this moment—wanting me as desperately as I want her.

“I never thought—” I start, then stop, overcome. “I never imagined you could want me like this. After everything.”

She reaches up, fingers threading through my hair, pulling me down to her. The softness of her body against mine feels like coming home to a place I never knew existed.

“I want you, Rhett,” she confirms, her voice husky.

My dick hardens as she sweeps her hand over her pussy, her finger slowly massaging her sweet clit.

Holy fuck, if she keeps doing that, I’ll come in my pants.

“Aria,” I rumble, reaching out to grab her hand. I lift it to my lips, wiping her arousal all over them before licking it. She tastes sweet, musky, and fucking addictive.

“Rhett,” she moans, reaching for me.

That’s all it takes.

I press my mouth to hers again, swallowing her moans as I push two fingers inside her, slow and deep. She’s soaked, clenching around me like her body’s been waiting for this—for me.

“You’re killing me,” I mutter, dragging my mouth down her throat. “You don’t even know what you’re doing to me, do you?”

She arches into me, breathless. “Show me.”

I slide down her body, kissing a trail over her belly, her hips, until I’m between her thighs.

And then I feast.

I lick her cunt like a man starved, like the only thing that matters is making her fall apart on my tongue. Her fingers clutch my hair, thighs trembling as she moans my name over and over—pleading, praying, a fucking sound I never want to stop hearing.

“Rhett…please…don’t stop.”

I don’t— I can’t.

She comes with a cry, legs shaking, pussy dripping, and I don’t even give her time to recover. I kiss my way back up her body, grab her thigh, and hook it around my waist.

Her eyes are dazed, cheeks flushed.

And still, she looks at me like I’m hers.

“I need you inside me,” she whispers.

I groan, lining up my cock and sliding in slowly. Inch by inch. Until I’m buried in her heat and the world goes quiet.

Fuck. She’s so tight I’m seeing stars.

She wraps her arms around my neck, pulls me down until our foreheads touch.

“This isn’t just sex,” she murmurs.

I nod, eyes locked on hers, my voice rough as I move. “I know.”

She digs her nails into my back, releasing soft moans and gasps that make me hers. Every sound she makes unravels something unfamiliar inside me.

I wrap my hand gently around the back of her neck, pressing my forehead against hers, our eyes locked in silent understanding. “You completely wreck me,” I confess between labored breaths. “You fucking wreck me, Aria.”

Her breath catches beautifully. Her thighs tighten around me with increasing urgency.

And when she finally comes apart for the second time, chanting my name— my fucking name —I follow immediately with a deep groan that somehow releases everything I’ve been holding in for too long.

Afterward, I remain perfectly still, absorbing her hot breath, our mouths meeting once more as her fingers play with my hair. We’re tangled together, breathless and vulnerable and beautifully imperfect.

But at this moment, I wouldn’t choose to be anywhere else.

Never again.