Page 38 of Curvy Cabin Fever

“Always. It’s how he shows love.” Damien stirs the pan. “You might not have noticed yet, but he makes everyone’s favorites. Those pancakes he made you that first morning? He only makes those for people he really cares about.”

I think about that—the care Morgan takes with food, how he watches people eat with that satisfied little smile. “It’s more than just cooking, isn’t it? It’s nurturing.”

“That’s Morgan.’ Damien glances at me. “Big body, bigger heart.”

Later, when we’ve eaten and the dishes are done, he pulls me to the couch and onto his lap, hands settling on my hips with casual possession.

“I want to know everything about you,” he tells me, brushing hair from my face. “Every scar, fear, and dream you’ve ever had.”

“Why?”

“Because you matter.” His thumbs stroke my hip bones through my jeans. “Not just to me. To all of us. And I want to understand why.”

I rest my hands on his shoulders, feeling the solid strength of him. “I’m not that complicated.”

“Liar.” But he says it tenderly, like it’s something he admires. “You’re the most complex person I’ve met in years. That’s why we all fell for you.”

“I thought it was my cooking.”

He laughs, the sound rumbling through his chest. “That too.” His expression sobers. “But mostly it’s the way you see each of us. Not just what we show the world.”

I think about that—about Morgan’s nurturing heart beneath his muscled exterior, about Rhett’s carefully controlled desires, about this man beneath me with his gruff demeanor and passionate vision. “I see you,” I whisper.

His answer is a kiss that starts gentle but doesn’t stay that way—a kiss that burns away everything but this moment, this connection, this man who holds me like I’m something both precious and breakable.

On our fifth night alone, curled in bed with moonlight spilling across the sheets, I ask the question that’s been hovering between us.

“Why did you stay? After they left?”

Damien traces patterns on my bare shoulder, his touch feather-light. “Thought that was obvious.”

“To be with me?”

“Partly.” His finger trails down my arm. “And partly because I needed time with just you. Without Morgan’s constant energy or Rhett’s analytical mind.”

“You love them, though.”

“With everything I have.” His voice is certain. “But what I feel for you needed space to grow on its own. Not just as part of what we all have together.”

I prop myself up on one elbow, study his face in the dim light. “And? What’s the verdict?”

His smile is slow, almost reluctant. “That I’m in deeper than I expected to be.”

“Scared?”

“Terrified.” He says it plainly, without shame. “I don’t do vulnerability easily, Aria. Ask anyone.”

“You’re doing it now.”

He reaches up, tucks hair behind my ear. “Only with you.”

The words hang between us, more intimate than any touch we’ve shared.

I think about that first night—how angry I’d been at my car, at the weather, at this arrogant stranger who made me feel both infuriated and alive.

“I thought you were the most aggravating man I’d ever met,” I confess.

His laugh is quiet in the darkness. “I was.”

“Still are, sometimes.”

“But you’re still here.”

I reach up, touch his face, the stubble rough under my fingertips. “So are you.”

He turns his head, presses a kiss to my palm. “Always will be.”

And in that moment, with the snow falling silent outside and his heart beating steady beneath my hand, I believe him completely.

On the last night before Rhett and Morgan return, we build a fire that roars against the winter chill. Damien sits on the floor between my legs while I run my fingers through his hair. Something I’ve discovered makes him almost purr with contentment.

“When they come back,” I broach the subject, “what changes?”

He leans his head back to look at me. “Everything. Nothing.” He takes my hand, presses a kiss to my palm. “We figure it out day by day. The four of us.”

“Has anyone ever done this before? Made it work?”

“Probably.” His eyes reflect the firelight. “But not the way we will.”

“Confident as always.”

“With good reason.” He turns, rising to his knees to face me. “Look at the facts. We’ve all chosen each other. Eyes wide open. No illusions.”

I trace his jawline with my finger. “Some would say it’s doomed to fail.”

“Some haven’t seen us together.” He catches my hand. “This isn’t just about sex, Aria. It never was. We’re building something here. Something real.”

In the morning, I wake to the sound of a phone ringing. Damien answers, his voice sleep-rough.

“Yeah,” he says. “We’re good. Really good... Tomorrow? Earlier than expected... No, that works.”

He looks over at me, eyes warm. “It’s Morgan. They’re coming back tomorrow.”

I feel a surge of joy, followed immediately by a twist of uncertainty. “So soon?”

Damien sets down the phone, pulls me against him. “Miss them?”

“Yes.”

“Worried?”

I nod against his chest.

“Don’t be.” His voice is steady, certain. “What we found this week doesn’t disappear when they return. It just becomes part of something bigger.”

And as his lips find mine in the early morning light, I choose to believe him.