Chapter 5

Chapter Five

L ila

The late afternoon sun slants over Devil's Peak, painting everything in warm golds and shadowed blues. The air has a bite to it that makes my breath sharper, fresher—like I'm breathing in possibility. I adjust the harness around my hips, trying to ignore the flutter of nerves in my stomach as I stare up at the jagged climb before us. The rock face looms tall, craggy, each ridge a new challenge, but I'm determined to make it to the top.

Holt stands nearby, a steady presence against the rugged backdrop, the mountain wind tousling his dark hair. He's focused on checking the ropes, his hands moving with a confidence I envy. When he glances my way, a slow, teasing smirk tugs at his mouth. That expression makes my insides twist in a way I wish I could ignore.

"You ready for this, city girl?" he asks, the amusement clear in his voice. "It's not too late to back out and take the easy trail."

I narrow my eyes, refusing to let him see that his challenge rattles me. I tighten my grip on the rope, lifting my chin with what I hope is more confidence than I feel. "I told you, I don't back down. Just don't expect me to carry your ass if that knee of yours gives out halfway up."

He chuckles, the sound low and rough, vibrating through the crisp mountain air. But there's an edge to it, a challenge glinting in those sharp blue eyes of his. He steps closer, the space between us narrowing until his heat presses into the cold that bites through my thin layers. His voice drops, turning huskier, wrapping around me like a warm breeze. "You're a piece of work, Lila. But let's see if you can keep up."

The way he says my name sends a shiver through me, and I curse the way my pulse quickens. But I refuse to let him get to me. I focus on the rock face, the climb, anything but the way Holt's nearness messes with my head.

Holt guides me to the first foothold, his hands brushing my waist as he adjusts my stance. His touch is firm, deliberate, like he's making a point of how close he is. I suck in a breath, steeling myself against the electric jolt that zips through me at the contact. He's too close, and the tension between us buzzes like a live wire.

"Right there," he murmurs, his breath brushing the edge of my ear. "That's a good start."

I don't trust myself to respond, so I focus on the rock, planting my feet and starting to climb. But even as I move, even as I pull myself higher, I feel the heat of his gaze on me, steady and unwavering. It's like he's daring me with every step, waiting for me to falter, to give him a reason to step in.

The climb is steeper than anything we've attempted so far, and my muscles burn with the effort. Sweat slicks my skin, mingling with the cool mountain air, making each hold feel precarious. Holt's voice is a constant presence below me, throwing out instructions, coaxing me forward with a mix of rough encouragement and mocking taunts that somehow push me harder.

"Left foot up, right there... Yeah, that's it. I knew you had it in you," he says, his tone dipping into a low growl that sends heat curling through my belly. I want to tell him to shut up, but I hate that I like hearing his praise, that it makes something inside me tighten with a need I don't want to name.

I glance down, catching the way he looks up at me, his eyes narrowed with a focus that makes my breath hitch. For a second, it feels like we're the only two people on this mountain, like everything else has faded into the distance below. "You don't have to keep checking on me, Holt. I'm not going to break."

His lips twitch into a smirk, but there's a softness in his expression that throws me off balance. "Maybe I just like watching you work for it, princess."

I roll my eyes, trying to ignore the way my pulse skips at the endearment. I turn back to the rock, forcing my focus onto the climb, onto the rough stone scraping my palms. But I can't deny the thrill that courses through me every time his hands brush against mine to steady me, or the way his breath catches when I manage a tricky maneuver without his help.

It's a game between us now—one laced with unspoken challenges and something that feels dangerously close to desire. He pushes me, and I push back, refusing to let him see how much he affects me. But the longer we climb, the more I can't ignore the heat that simmers just beneath the surface, like an ember waiting to catch fire.

Finally, we reach a narrow ledge, just wide enough for the two of us to rest. My legs are trembling from exertion, but there's a giddy rush in my veins, a wild kind of exhilaration that makes me feel like I could conquer anything. I pull myself onto the flat rock, collapsing back with a breathless laugh, my chest heaving as I drink in the sharp mountain air.

Holt hauls himself up beside me, his expression smug, but there's a glint of something softer in his eyes as he watches me catch my breath. He settles down beside me, close enough that our shoulders brush, and for a moment, neither of us speaks. We're just breathing, caught in the afterglow of the climb.

"You did good, Lila," he says, his voice quieter now, carrying a rough edge that sounds almost like pride. He reaches out, brushing a stray lock of hair from my cheek, and his fingers linger longer than they should. "Maybe you're tougher than I gave you credit for."

I meet his gaze, my heart thudding against my ribs, something tight and unfamiliar twisting in my chest. "Maybe you're not as much of a jerk as I thought," I say, trying for a teasing tone, but there's an edge of truth in the words that I can't quite hide. I see the way his expression falters, the way his eyes darken with something deeper, something unguarded.

Holt leans in, just a fraction, his breath brushing against my lips, and my pulse stutters. For a second, it feels like we're balanced on the edge of something dangerous, something that could change everything. His hand cups my cheek, his thumb brushing over the curve of my jaw, and I lean into the touch before I can think better of it.

"You're not what I expected, Lila," he murmurs, his voice rough with a confession I don't think he meant to make. "You make me want to?—"

But he cuts himself off, his jaw clenching like he's holding back, like he's afraid of where those words might lead. I reach up, my fingers curling around his wrist, holding him there, holding us in this moment where everything feels possible.

"Maybe I'm not what you expected, either," I whisper, my voice barely more than a breath, but I see the way it makes his eyes flare, the way his grip tightens against my cheek.

His gaze drops to my mouth, and for a heartbeat, I think he might close the distance, that he might kiss me right here on this windswept ledge. And God, I want him to. I want to feel the weight of him against me again, to taste the raw heat that simmers between us.

But then he pulls back, letting his hand fall, and the moment slips away like sand through my fingers. He gives me a lopsided grin, the one that's all cocky mountain man, and I hate how much I want to see what's underneath it. "Come on, princess. We've got a sunset to catch."

He turns, offering me a hand, and I take it, even though my legs are still shaky. But as we settle side by side on the ledge, the sky painted with hues of orange and pink, I can't shake the feeling that something between us has shifted—something that feels like it's just waiting to catch fire.