Pulled In
1358 Words
Ivy hesitated for a fraction of a second before lowering herself onto the makeshift bed.
The thick wool blankets were surprisingly soft against her bare legs, but the floor underneath was undeniably rigid. She crawled to the far left edge of the Persian rug, pulling the massive down comforter all the way up to her chin.
Sebastian moved a moment later. He lowered his massive frame onto the right side of the blankets.
The comforter shifted, settling over his broad shoulders. He lay flat on his back, staring straight up at the vaulted timber ceiling. He was painfully rigid. His large hands were curled into tight fists resting on his stomach. He kept a careful, deliberate space of exactly six inches between their bodies.
It was the most agonizing six inches Ivy had ever experienced.
The physical proximity was suffocating. Sebastian radiated an immense amount of body heat, acting like a human furnace in the freezing living room. The heavy, intoxicating scent of cedar wood, expensive soap, and pure masculine sweat enveloped her completely. She could hear the steady, deep rhythm of his breathing over the roaring blizzard outside.
"Are you warm enough?" Sebastian asked. His deep voice rumbled through the quiet dark, vibrating against her skin.
"I am fine," she lied softly. Her heart was beating so fast she was terrified he could hear it. "Are you?"
"I am used to the cold," he replied, his tone clipped. "Boston winters train you for the ice. But Chamonix is a different beast entirely. The elevation here drops the temperature significantly faster once the grid fails."
"Do you think the avalanche patrol will start clearing the pass tomorrow?" she asked, desperately trying to focus on the world outside the blanket.
"Not until the storm breaks entirely," Sebastian stated. "They have to use explosives to trigger any secondary shelves before they can safely bring the massive plows up the mountain. We are completely isolated until then. The French authorities take zero risks with these category five storms. The valley is locked down."
"So we are truly stuck," she murmured, the reality settling heavily in her chest.
"Yes," he agreed. "We are stuck."
Silence fell over them again. The fire in the hearth crackled loudly, throwing dancing orange shadows across the dark wooden beams above them.
Ivy turned her head slightly, looking at his sharp profile in the dim light. The tension rolling off his massive body was palpable. He was fighting a brutal internal battle, his jaw clenched so tightly she thought his teeth might shatter.
"You cannot sleep," she whispered into the dark.
"No," he agreed gruffly. "I cannot."
"Is it your knee?" she asked, suddenly feeling a surge of guilt. "Lying on the hard floor cannot be good for it."
"My knee is the absolute least of my concerns right now, Ivy," he countered. His voice was thick with a dangerous, warning edge. "Talk to me. Distract me before I lose my damn mind. Tell me why you actually hate the holidays."
Ivy swallowed hard. The sudden demand caught her off guard. She pulled the comforter tighter around her shoulders.
"I told you," she murmured. "Mark ruined them."
"You caught Mark cheating yesterday," Sebastian pointed out flawlessly. "You have hated the holidays since you were nineteen years old. Juliet mentioned it every single winter. She used to beg you to come to our house for Christmas dinner, and you always refused. Why?"
Ivy closed her eyes. The darkness of the room made it easier to confess the embarrassing truth.
"Because Mark hated them," she admitted quietly. "We started dating my freshman year of college. I used to love Christmas. I loved the lights, the traditions, the warmth. But Mark thought it was all a commercialized waste of money."
"So you just stopped celebrating?" Sebastian asked. The disgust in his gravelly voice was unmistakable.
"It was not a sudden stop," she explained, her voice trembling slightly with the weight of the memory. "It was gradual. First, he refused to help me decorate the apartment. Then, he started picking fights on Christmas Eve so we would not have to visit my family. Eventually, he convinced me that wanting a tree or a gift made me shallow and materialistic. He made me feel stupid for caring."
Sebastian let out a low, terrifying snarl. It was a completely primal sound of absolute rage.
"He systematically broke down your spirit," Sebastian growled. He turned his head, his dark eyes locking onto hers in the flickering firelight. "He made you shrink yourself down so he would not feel inadequate. That is not a man, Ivy. That is a coward."
"I know that now," she whispered, her throat tightening with unshed tears. "But for five years, I believed him. And then yesterday, I came home early to grab my coat, and I found him in our bed with his receptionist. He did not even apologize, Sebastian. He just told me I was overreacting."
"If I ever see him," Sebastian said, his voice dropping to a deadly, completely serious register, "I will break every single bone in his face. I will ruin him financially, and then I will physically destroy him."
The violent, possessive promise sent a wild thrill straight to her core. He was not exaggerating. The retired hockey enforcer had the money, the power, and the sheer physical strength to do exactly what he promised.
"You do not have to do that," she breathed out.
"I want to," he promised darkly. "You deserve the world, Ivy. You deserve the lights, the traditions, and a man who would burn the entire city down just to keep you warm. You never deserved a coward."
The intensity in his eyes was blinding. Ivy could not look away. The heavy tension between them reached a boiling point, expanding until it sucked all the oxygen out of the room.
"Go to sleep, Ivy," Sebastian suddenly commanded. His voice was ragged, as if speaking physically pained him. He turned his head away, staring back up at the ceiling. "Before I do something we will both regret tomorrow."
Ivy did not push him. The confession had drained her remaining energy. The adrenaline crash hit her like a physical blow. She closed her eyes, listening to the roaring wind and the crackling fire, until exhaustion finally pulled her under.
Hours later, the fire died down to glowing red embers.
The brutal alpine cold finally seeped through the thick timber walls, invading the living room. Ivy woke up violently, her body shaking uncontrollably. The oversized cashmere sweater offered zero protection against the plunging temperature. Her teeth chattered loudly in the dark.
Beside her, Sebastian shifted.
He was half asleep, his iron clad control finally compromised by sheer exhaustion. Pure, unfiltered instinct took over.
Without a single word of warning, Sebastian reached out in the dark. His massive arm wrapped securely around her waist. He hauled her effortlessly across the six inches of space, pulling her flush against his rock solid chest.
Ivy gasped softly, her eyes flying wide open.
The heat radiating from his large body was instant and overwhelming. She was completely enveloped by his sheer size. He tucked her head perfectly beneath his chin, burying his face deep into the crook of her neck. His rough stubble grazed her sensitive skin, sending a jolt of pure electricity straight down her spine. One of his heavy legs tangled over hers, locking her securely in his embrace.
She was exactly where she was not supposed to be. She was in the arms of her best friend's father.
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to find the willpower to push him away.
Then, Sebastian took a deep breath, inhaling her scent. His lips brushed against her collarbone.
"Mine," he murmured sleepily against her bare skin, his deep voice thick with absolute possession. "I have wanted you for years."
- Writer
