Page 24 of Curvy Cabin Fever

MORGAN

T he storm’s finally over, thank fuck.

For the first time in days, there’s no howling wind, no sleet rattling the windows, no snow falling thick and fast like we’re buried under the sky itself. It sure looks pretty, though.

It’s quiet out there, making everything in the cabin much louder—the kind that makes you notice things you’d rather ignore.

Like the faint moans echoing through the walls an hour ago.

The way the damn bed was sliding over the floor.

The way Aria screamed Rhett’s name like she’d waited her whole life to say it like that.

I don’t know how to feel. Am I jealous? Yep, I sure fucking am.

What I would do to have Rhett in bed with me …but he wouldn’t—because his fucking father taught him it was wrong to ‘lie with another man.’

Fuck his father.

I could make Rhett happier than any woman could.

I pause, tilting my head as I think of the curvy goddess in bed with him.

Okay, maybe not any woman. Because she makes all of us pretty damn happy. My dick twitches in my pants at the thought of having both of them, and I groan, scrubbing my face like it will erase the image.

What an image, though. Rhett naked, my lips wrapped around his dick as I fuck Aria hard… Her cries filling the room as her pussy milks my dick.

Except it’s him and her at the minute. A man and a woman, how it should be.

Bull-fucking-shit.

I’ve got eggs on the pan but I haven’t stopped grinding my damn teeth since they started going at it.

And I don’t know if it’s jealousy, frustration, or something worse.

I think I’m falling for her , and I fell for him a long time ago—and now they’re falling for each other? Or is it just sex?

Fuck.

I flip the eggs with more force than necessary, watching the yellow yolks wobble dangerously close to breaking.

Just like me.

Something inside my chest feels sore, constricted, like I’m holding my breath underwater and the surface keeps getting further away.

The sizzle of eggs in the pan should be comforting—domestic—normal.

But nothing about this situation is normal, is it?

Four strangers trapped in a cabin during the worst snowstorm in decades.

Three men circling one woman like she has always been ours.

And me?

I’m caught in between two of them. Her. Him. Both are impossible to resist.

Damien walks into the kitchen and snorts as he catches the scowl on my face. “Careful. You’ll break your jaw grinding it like that.”

I flip the eggs. “Did you hear them?”

He pours himself a coffee. “Hard not to. Cabin’s not exactly soundproof.”

“She’s loud,” I remark, mostly to myself. “Louder with him.”

Damien leans against the counter, sipping his coffee. “Are you jealous? And if so, who of?”

I don’t answer. The truth is lodged somewhere in my throat, too big to swallow back down, too dangerous to spit out.

He says nothing. It’s one reason we get along.

Despite his intimidating exterior, Damien’s got this quiet understanding about him.

He watches things, observes, then processes silently.

Not like Rhett, who’s all fire and impulse and raw need.

Not like me either—the one who tries to smooth every edge with a joke or a smile.

I slide eggs onto a plate, wondering if Aria likes them over-easy or scrambled.

A door creaks open down the hall, and Rhett’s low voice carries, soft and gravelly.

“See you soon, Aria.”

My stomach twists, and I force myself not to turn as he walks in, brushing past me without a word as he grabs a mug.

I keep my eyes on the pan as I crack in more eggs, but I can smell him—sex and soap and something distinctly Rhett that’s been driving me crazy since college.

The familiar scent hits me like a physical blow.

“Are you good?” he asks.

So he does give a shit.

I glance up, brows raised. “You’re asking me that now ?”

He doesn’t meet my eyes. “I’m just making sure.”

I twist my mouth and shrug. “I’m fine.”

Lies .

I’m not. I haven’t been fine since the day I realized what he meant to me. Since the night he kissed me, leaving me aching for something I couldn’t have.

And now here’s Aria.

She lingers in the doorway, chewing her lip, watching us. Her hair is still damp from the shower, her cheeks flushed pink. She’s wearing one of Rhett’s shirts—I’d recognize it anywhere—and the sight of her in his clothes does something complicated to my insides.

She’s glowing when she walks in. Even in a wrinkled shirt and wet hair, she looks like something out of a dream. Her eyes dart between us, like she’s not sure what she’s walking into. But she doesn’t look ashamed anymore. She looks…confident, and fuck me if that’s not sexy.

And God help me, I want her like that because of me .

Not just her body. Not just her sweet little sighs when I kiss her thighs or her smart mouth when I tease her over pancakes. I want to know how she sounds when I make her feel like Rhett just did.

Wrecked in the best way.

I want to pull her into my arms and kiss her until she forgets every other name but mine .

But I want to do that to him too.

“Morning,” she says, voice slightly raspy, and I wonder if it’s from sleep or from screaming Rhett’s name.

“Hungry?” I ask, lifting the spatula. “I made enough for everyone.”

She nods, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Starving, actually.”

Our fingers brush when I hand her a plate, and the contact sends electricity shooting up my arm. Her eyes meet mine, and for a second, I swear she feels it too—that current between us, undeniable and strong.

Rhett clears his throat, and the moment shatters.

“Looks like the weather’s clearing,” he announces, staring out the window.

The reminder that this—whatever this is—has an expiration date settles like ice in my stomach.

Soon, she’ll leave.

Where does that leave us?

“Good thing we stocked up before the storm,” Damien comments, seemingly oblivious to the tension. Or maybe he’s just better at ignoring it. “Got enough supplies for another week at least, just in case.”

Another week. Seven more days of this exquisite torture. Sleeping under the same roof and wanting what I can’t fully have.

“How’d you sleep?” I ask Aria, keeping my voice casual, though there’s nothing casual about the question.

Her cheeks flush darker. “Good. Really good.”

Rhett takes a long sip of his coffee, eyes fixed on the mug like it holds the secrets of the universe.

The morning moves slowly, thick with tension. The kind you could cut with a butter knife if you weren’t too afraid to be the first one to speak.

Damien’s the only one who seems chill, eating his breakfast like he didn’t just live through a live porno at 8 a.m.

I pretend to focus on my food, but I can feel Aria’s eyes on me. There’s a question there, unspoken but heavy in the air between us.

Does she know?

Does she know about Rhett and me and our complicated feelings?

Our eyes meet, and she chews on her lip, her head tilting as she gazes at me.

Something shifts in her expression—a realization, maybe, or a decision.

She takes a bite of toast, but her eyes don’t leave mine, and I feel naked under her gaze, like she’s peeling back every layer I’ve carefully constructed.

“So what’s everyone’s plans for the day?” Damien questions, breaking the silence. “Since we’re not fighting for survival anymore.”

Rhett shrugs. “Thought I’d check the generator. Make sure we’re good if the power goes out again.”

“Need any help with that?” I offer, knowing he’ll refuse but asking anyway.

He shakes his head. “I got it.”

Of course he does. Rhett’s always been self-sufficient to a fault. Never asking for help or admitting when he needs someone. It must be exhausting being him.

“I might read,” Aria replies. “Maybe take a walk if it’s not too cold.”

I look at her then, really look at her, and see everything I’ve been missing. The way her eyes linger on Rhett with newfound familiarity. The way she looks at me with curiosity and something else—something that makes my heart race.

And I decide right there, over cooling eggs and coffee: I’m not hiding anymore. Not from her, him, or from what I want.

Life’s too short, and if this cabin’s taught me anything, it’s that waiting for the perfect moment means you might never get one at all.

Later, when the others are distracted—Rhett disappearing outside to “check the generator” and Damien taking a shower—I find Aria by the window in the sunlight, watching the icicles drip like they’re melting hourglasses.

I step up behind her, my chest nearly touching her back. I can smell her shampoo—something fruity and light—mixed with the lingering scent of Rhett.

“You look like you could use some fresh air,” I murmur.

She glances over her shoulder, lips twitching. “Is that your way of asking me on a date?”

I grin. “You wanna call it a date, sugar, then hell yeah. Put on a coat. I’ve got something to show you.”