15. Woodley

FIFTEEN

Woodley

Then how the reindeer loved him / As they shouted out with glee / "Rudolph, the red-nosed reindeer / You'll go down in history!"

5:47 pm

The lobby is warmer now, the fire crackling softly in the background. I've finally warmed up from our tubing and then all the excitement of finding the young girl in the cold.

I'm not sure what made me spill everything about my family to Thorne. Maybe it was the emotion that's been building over the past few days, or the weight of the holidays, always reminding me how alone I am.

Seeing Thorne jump into action, finding that lost little girl and bringing her back to her mom, stirred something in me I couldn't ignore. It was like he wasn't just helping her—he was reaching something inside me, something I'd kept locked away for a long time. After that, there was no holding it all in.

Even now, I can still feel the comforting weight of his hand on mine, the quiet comfort he gave after I told him far more than I ever intended. The little girl is back with her mom, safe, but the storm inside me? That's far from calm.The little girl is safe, back with her mother, but the storm that kicked up inside me hasn't settled. Not by a long shot.

"Thank you for trusting me enough to talk about your family," Thorne says, his voice low, almost a rumble. His eyes search mine, like he's still trying to piece together the whole puzzle I threw at him.

"Thanks for listening and not judging me," I say, giving him a tight smile. Its freeing to have someone who knows more about me than I'm the scrapper who works hard. It's almost comical to me that it is Thorne, the person I would have guessed would have been the last person I would tell.

He nods, and he offers a warm smile. No words are necessary. There is something in his eyes that tells me everything I need to know. He shifts in his seat, glancing down at his damp coat and shirt, the snow that clings to the edges of his clothes.

"I should probably get out of these wet clothes," he says, his voice casual, but the words pull me back to the present. After everything we just talked about, I realize how safe I feel with him—feeling safe around another person, a man at that, is something I'm not used to. I nod, suddenly aware of my own damp clothes clinging to me. "Yeah," I respond, "I'll come up and change too."

The way he looks at me, steady, like he's asking me something without really saying it, makes it clear it's not just about the cold.

"Let's go." The directive is soft, but it hangs between us like it's so much more than two words. I know exactly what going with him up to the room is about, and it has nothing to do with simply changing clothes.

I should stay here, offer to keep our place at the table. I ought to tell him that whatever we're feeling right now is a result of the emotional rollercoaster we've just been on. But instead, I find myself nodding, the word slipping out before I can second-guess it.

"Alright."

I stand up slowly, my legs feeling shaky, like the ground under me isn't quite solid anymore. Thorne gets up too, and we don't say anything as we move toward the elevator, the sound of Christmas carols in the distance almost surreal against the backdrop of what's happening. A tree twinkles beside the front desk, the lights soft and warm, casting a glow over the snow piling up outside.

The ride up is quiet, but it's not an awkward silence—it's loaded with everything we're not saying. I steal a glance at him, noticing the way his jaw is set, but there's something different in him this afternoon. Something more human, genuine.

It's like we've crossed some invisible line, and I can feel it, that pull toward him that's always been there, just buried beneath all the banter and distance. Today, it's impossible to ignore

We reach his floor, and the doors slide open with a soft chime. I step out first, my pulse quickening with each step we take down the hallway. The snow outside the windows looks relentless, swirling in thick flurries, but in here, it feels quiet. Too quiet.

When we reach his door, Thorne glances at me, his eyes holding mine for a second longer than necessary. "Come in with me," he says, low and certain. There's no hesitation in his voice, no second-guessing. He opens the door, and I follow him inside, knowing exactly where this is headed.

The room is familiar, but tonight it feels different—charged. The glow from the small tree in the corner casts soft shadows, but it's the heat between us that's undeniable. We came up here to change out of damp clothes, but there's an unspoken understanding that something else is happening. Something that's been building, deepening.

I slip off my coat, hanging it over the chair, but I'm all too aware of him, of his presence closing in around me. There's a magnetic pull, something I can't shake. He doesn't say a word, but the space between us feels electric, like we're both on the verge of something inevitable.

He steps toward me, slow and deliberate, his gaze never leaving mine. There's no rush, no urgency like the first time we were together. This is different—more deliberate, more real. The air thickens as he reaches out, his hand brushing against my arm. It's not a question. It's a connection. The kind that's been there all along, waiting for moments like this.

I turn to face him fully, and the intensity of his gaze sends a wave of heat through me. We've crossed this line before, but tonight, it feels heavier, like we both understand what this really is now. It's more than just desire. It's everything we haven't said, everything that's been building under the surface.

Without a word, I step into him, and his hands find my waist, pulling me closer. His touch is steady, confident, like he's known all along what he wants. The kiss that follows isn't tentative or rushed—it's deliberate, a slow burn that's been simmering between us for days. His lips move against mine with a precision that leaves no room for hesitation, no second thoughts.

I let myself get lost in it, in him, in the warmth of his skin and the way his hands grip me like he's afraid to let go. My fingers trail over his chest, tracing the lines I've come to know, feeling the familiar heat beneath his skin. But this time, it's different. This time, it's more.

He pulls back just enough to meet my eyes, and I can see everything in his expression—the desire, the understanding, the unspoken truth that we've been dancing around since we met. His breathing is rough, matching mine, but he doesn't ask the usual questions. He doesn't need to.

I know what he means. I know what he's offering. My heart hammers in my chest, and for the first time in a long time, I don't feel the urge to run.

What little space that is left between us disappears, his hand sliding to the back of my neck as he pulls me toward him, his lips crashing against mine in a kiss that's been building for far too long. It's intense and desperate like we've both been holding back for too long, and now the floodgates have finally opened.

His hands are rough but gentle as they slide down my arms, pulling me closer until there's no space left between us. The feel of his skin against mine is overwhelming, sending shivers down my spine, but this time it's not the cold. It's him. It's us.

We stumble back toward the bed, his lips never leaving mine, and when we finally reach it, everything else falls away. The snowstorm, the girl, the weight of everything I've been carrying—it all dissolves into the heat of the moment, into the way his hands move over me like he's trying to memorize every inch.

And I let him.

The door to Thorne's hotel room clicks shut behind us, the soft sound echoing in the quiet space. We're alone again, the world outside fading away until it's just us—our breath, our bodies, our shared secrets.

I can feel the beat of my heart, a steady rhythm that matches his as he pulls me close. Our lips meet in a kiss that's both a question and an answer, a merging of two souls who've finally let their guards down.

It's strange how vulnerability can transform desire. With every layer we peel away, every truth we reveal, the passion between us only grows stronger, more intense.

Thorne's hands roam over my body, his touch igniting a fire within me. I can feel the heat of his skin through the fabric of our clothes, a promise of the pleasure to come.

He guides me toward the bed, his movements confident yet gentle. We fall onto the soft sheets in a tangle of limbs, our bodies aligning perfectly as if drawn together by an unseen force.

Our clothes seem to disappear, each piece discarded enthusiastically. His fingers trace the contours of my body, exploring every curve and dip with a reverence that makes me feel worshipped, cherished.

When he enters me, it's with a tenderness that takes my breath away. Each thrust is a testament to our newfound connection, a dance of bodies and souls intertwined.

He calls out my name, his voice a symphony of need and pleasure. The sound of it, raw and unguarded, sends shivers down my spine. I hold him close, our bodies moving in unison, each wave of ecstasy bringing us closer to the brink.

The intensity of our lovemaking is overwhelming, a culmination of everything we've shared—the struggles, the revelations, the understanding that we're more alike than we ever imagined.

As we reach the peak together, the world explodes into a million stars. The release is both physical and emotional, a letting go of all the tension and fear that once stood between us.

We lie together in the afterglow, our bodies still intimately connected. Thorne's arm is a warm, comforting weight around my shoulders, and I can feel the steady beat of his heart against my cheek.

In the quiet of the room, with the sound of our breathing slowly returning to normal, he begins to speak. His voice is soft, almost hesitant, as he opens up about the pressure his father puts on him—expectations of success, the weight of the family name, the fear of never being enough.

I listen, my hand tracing small circles on his chest, offering silent comfort as he bares his soul. It's a side of Thorne I never expected to see, a vulnerability that makes him all the more endearing.

Our connection deepens with each word, each shared secret. And as sleep finally claims us, I realize that this trip has become so much more than a fight for survival. It's become a journey of discovery, a testament to the power of human connection.