Page 83 of Curvy Cabin Fever

I grin, something warm and greedy spreading through my chest. “So I’m the first.”

“You’re the only,” he says.

And just like that, I forget how to breathe.

We finish our coffee slowly, neither of us eager to get back on the road. Outside, the snow is getting heavier, blanketing the sidewalk in a clean sheet of white. Damien brushes the flakes from my coat before helping me into the truck again.

Damien keepshis hand on my leg the entire drive home, his thumb tracing slow, lazy circles over the inside of my thigh. He doesn’t say anything, but the air in the truck is thicker now. Hotter.

Like we both know what’s coming.

But we’re letting it simmer just a little longer.

By the time we pull into the long, snowy drive that leads to the cabin, the sky is a burnt orange and hazy gray; the sun beginning its slow descent behind the trees. The truck crunches over hardened snow, tires hissing softly until we roll to a stop.

He kills the engine and turns to me.

I don’t say anything.

Neither does he—but the look in his eyessays everything.

Want. Possession. Patience on the fucking edge.

I open the door before I forget how to move, letting the cold slap my cheeks and shake something loose from under my skin. Damien rounds the truck, grabs the bags from the back, and we walk together in silence, boots thudding across the packed snow.

I reach for the handle.

But Damien stops me with a hand on my wrist.

“Aria.”

His voice is low and gravelly.

I look up. He’s staring at me like he’s trying to memorize my face, burn it into something permanent. Like this moment—this exact version of me, of us—matters more than anything else.

Then he simply states, “You’re mine.”

The words shouldn’t make me feel so steady. So warm.

But they do.

I nod. “Yours.”

And then I open the door.

We step into the cabin together.

Warmth hits me first, then wood smoke. The faint scent of spices, like someone tried to cook. The fire’s burning low in the hearth, casting flickering gold across the walls.

What we don’t expect is the sound.

A soft moan that’s barely audible.

Damien’s body goes still beside me.

My breath catches.

We move quietly into the main room, not meaning to sneak—but unwilling to interrupt.