SNOWBOUND SIN

Leaned In

The pitch black room felt instantly ten degrees colder. The heavy silence inside the chalet pressed against Ivy, broken only by the violent, howling wind slamming into the thick glass panes.

​"Do not move," Sebastian commanded through the darkness. His voice was a low rumble that vibrated in her chest. "Stay exactly where you are, Ivy."

​"I cannot see anything," she whispered. Her voice was trembling. The reality of the avalanche and the dead power grid was paralyzing.

​"I know. Give me a second."

​Heavy footsteps moved across the hardwood floor. A drawer opened and closed. A loud click echoed, and a blinding beam of LED light cut through the blackness. Sebastian held a heavy duty tactical flashlight. He pointed the beam at the ceiling, casting a stark, artificial glow over the sprawling living room.

​The ambient temperature was already plummeting. Without the central heating, the sprawling alpine architecture was basically an expensive icebox.

​"We need a fire," Sebastian stated. He walked toward the massive stone hearth. "The ambient heat will bleed out through the glass within the hour. If we do not get a substantial fire going, we will be dealing with frostbite before morning."

​Ivy hugged the oversized cashmere sweater tighter around her body. The hem brushed her bare thighs. "How can I help?"

​"You can sit on the couch and wrap yourself in a blanket," he replied, opening the wrought iron screen of the fireplace.

​"I am not helpless, Sebastian," she argued, stepping closer to the hearth. "Tell me what to do."

​He paused and looked back at her. The harsh flashlight beam caught the hard angles of his face. He looked dangerous in the stark lighting. "Fine. Grab the small kindling from the brass bucket. Pile it in the center of the grate."

​Ivy knelt on the stone hearth. The cold seeped directly into her bare knees. She reached into the bucket, but her fingers were completely numb. She fumbled with the rough pieces of split cedar.

​Sebastian brought a stack of heavy oak logs from the indoor woodpile. He set the flashlight on the mantle and grabbed a small steel hand axe. He knelt beside her, his sheer size dwarfing her completely. With precise, brutal efficiency, he began splitting the medium logs into smaller, combustible pieces.

​Ivy watched him work. The raw physical power of the retired athlete was mesmerizing. Every strike of the axe was calculated and devastating. He was a man entirely in his element, taking complete control of a dangerous situation. It made a dangerous, forbidden heat coil low in her stomach.

​"You do not have to do all this yourself," Ivy said quietly, dropping a handful of kindling onto the iron grate.

​Sebastian did not look up. He struck another log. "I have survived worse winters than this, Ivy. A dead power grid in Chamonix is an inconvenience. Not a tragedy."

​"It feels like a tragedy," she confessed. The words slipped out before she could stop them. "This whole week feels like a tragedy. Mark cheating was just the final nail."

​Sebastian stopped chopping. He rested the axe on the stone floor and looked at her. "What was the first nail?"

​Ivy swallowed hard. The darkness surrounding the small pool of light made the space feel incredibly intimate. It stripped away her usual defenses.

​"I lost my job on Tuesday," she admitted, her voice hollow. "The marketing firm downsized. I was the newest hire, so I was the first to go. I lost my income, and since Mark is the only one on our apartment lease, I essentially lost my home yesterday too. I have absolutely nothing to show for the last five years of my life."

​Sebastian stared at her. The harsh reprimand from earlier was completely gone. His dark eyes were heavy with a quiet understanding.

​"Starting over is terrifying," he said slowly. His voice was a rich, gravelly hum. "When my knee shattered on the ice in Boston, the doctors told me I would never skate competitively again. I was thirty four years old. My entire identity was tied to the league. Without the game, I did not know who I was."

​"How did you fix it?" she asked, genuinely desperate for the answer.

​"I did not fix the knee," he replied, shifting closer to the grate. "I built something new. The sports agency. You rebuild, Ivy. You do not mourn a life that was inevitably going to fail. You survive it."

​"I am trying to survive it," she whispered, picking up another piece of kindling.

​Her hand trembled violently. The rough wood slipped from her numb fingers and clattered loudly against the iron grate. A sharp splinter caught the edge of her palm.

​She let out a sharp hiss of pain, pulling her hand back to her chest.

​"Damn it," Sebastian growled softly. He dropped the wood he was holding and closed the distance between them in a fraction of a second. "Show me."

​"It is nothing," she lied, trying to pull away. "Just a splinter."

​"Show me your hand, Ivy." It was an absolute command.

​She reluctantly held out her trembling hand. Sebastian took it. His large, calloused hands completely engulfed hers. The contrast was staggering. His skin was incredibly warm, rough from years of gripping a hockey stick, while hers was freezing and delicate.

​He gently brushed his thumb over her palm, inspecting the small scratch. The friction of his rough skin against hers sent a violent jolt of electricity straight up her arm.

​"You are freezing," he murmured.

​He did not let go. Instead, he took her other hand as well, sandwiching both of her small, numb hands between his massive palms. He rubbed them slowly, generating a deep, soothing friction.

​The gesture started as pure, paternal instinct. He was simply trying to warm her up. But as the seconds ticked by, the air in the small circle of light began to shift. The silence stretched until it became heavy and suffocating.

​Ivy stared down at their joined hands. Her heart began to hammer erratically against her ribs. She was intensely aware of the fact that she was only wearing her underwear and his sweater. She was hyper aware of how close his broad chest was to her face.

​Sebastian stopped rubbing her hands. He went completely still.

​Ivy slowly lifted her gaze.

​Sebastian was staring right back at her. The protective, fatherly mask he wore so perfectly had completely shattered. His dark eyes were blown wide, entirely consumed by a raw, predatory hunger. The muscle in his jaw ticked violently as he fought a losing battle against his own restraint.

​"Sebastian," she breathed out. The word was a soft, ragged plea.

​His gaze dropped to her mouth. The heavy, inappropriate tension crackled between them like a live wire. All the boundaries, all the rules, and all the reasons why this was a terrible idea evaporated in the freezing air.

​He leaned forward. The scent of cedar and pure masculine heat surrounded her. His face was only inches from hers. She closed her eyes, her lips parting as she anticipated the absolute ruin of his kiss.

​A horrific, explosive crash directly above them shattered the moment entirely.

​The sound of thick glass exploding echoed through the entire chalet. It was followed instantly by the deafening roar of the blizzard violently invading the second floor. A massive, frozen tree branch had just breached the guest bedroom window.