Chapter 5

Chapter Five

B ella

The next evening, the wind howls like it's trying to claw its way into the inn. The windows rattle, the early winter storm slamming against the old building with a fury that sends a chill up my spine. I glance down at my phone, but of course, it's useless—no signal, no updates. Just a blank screen reminding me I'm cut off from the outside world.

Then, like the storm's final act, the lights flicker once, twice, and then plunge us into total darkness. Perfect. Just perfect.

I hear Archer shift from the other side of the room, and his voice, low and smooth, cuts through the dark. "Looks like we're not getting any more work done tonight."

I barely make him out in the dim light filtering through the window, but the steady confidence in his tone feels like it fills the entire room. "Seems that way," I mutter. "But hey, at least the wiring's not catching fire."

His chuckle, deep and rich, sends a warmth through me that has nothing to do with the room temperature. It's the kind of laugh that wraps around you and makes you forget the cold. Too bad I'm not trying to get comfortable.

"You wanna huddle up by the fireplace?" he asks, like it's no big deal. "It'll keep us warm until the power kicks back in."

Huddle. Sure. Like that won't end in trouble. I cross my arms, trying to keep my voice steady. "Huddle? I thought you were the guy who could fix anything. What, no generator in that toolbox of yours?"

"I left it in my other pants," he fires back, his grin practically audible. "Come on, Bella. What's the worst that could happen?"

I shake my head, but I'm already moving toward the fireplace. I would be lying to myself if I said I wasn't already addicted to this man's presence. I want his hands on my skin, his lips on mine, even just his gaze feels like a sweet caress on my body that sends shockwaves of arousal through me. The temperature is dropping fast, and whatever composure I had is slipping away with every inch the storm moves closer. The windows are vibrating, the wind is screaming, and now I'm stuck alone with him in the dark.

He crouches by the hearth, striking a match and bringing the fire to life with a few practiced movements. The flames catch, casting a soft, flickering glow over his face, lighting up the hard planes of his jaw, his eyes dark and focused. It's unfair how effortlessly he pulls my attention to him.

"So," he says, sitting back on his heels, watching me with that easy grin, "I'm guessing a city girl like you doesn't do many snowstorms."

I sink into the armchair closest to the fire, giving a dry laugh. "Please. I've survived a few New York blizzards. Though, to be fair, those came with central heating and a takeout menu."

He smirks, leaning back against the couch, his body relaxed, his legs stretched out in front of him like he's got all the time in the world. "I bet you had a guy lined up to shovel the sidewalk too."

I narrow my eyes, but the smile tugging at my lips gives me away. "Why? You offering?"

"Depends," he says, his gaze dropping down my body, his voice smooth as silk. "What do I get in return?"

My heart does a little flip at the casual way he says it, the confidence that rolls off him like it's the most natural thing in the world. I try to keep my voice even. "You're really pushing your luck."

He laughs, the sound warm and rich, cutting through the storm's chaos outside. "Maybe. But I think you like it."

I open my mouth, ready to snap back, but the words catch in my throat. The way he's looking at me—direct, no games—it's like he's daring me to stop pretending. Daring me to admit that he's right.

"So," I say, shifting the topic before it gets too heated too fast, "you grew up here, right? Must be second nature for you."

"Yeah," he nods, his eyes never leaving mine. "Cold weather, small towns, and making the best of things. My brothers and I used to love it when storms hit like this. We'd be snowed in for days, making a game out of it."

"And now?" I ask, leaning back in the chair, my curiosity getting the better of me. "You still like being snowed in?"

His eyes gleam in the firelight, a hint of something dangerous flickering in them. "Depends on who I'm stuck with."

I swallow hard, the tension between us building like the wind outside. "You're relentless, you know that?"

He shrugs, but the gleam in his eyes says everything. "Just calling it how I see it. You're not exactly unaffected yourself, Bella."

I feel my cheeks warm under his stare, even in the cold. I try to deny it, but there's no use. "I didn't say I was."

"Good." He leans forward slightly, his voice dropping lower, more intimate. "Because the way you've been looking at me all night, I think we both know where this is heading."

My breath catches, my pulse quickening. He's closer now, his eyes locked on mine, and I can feel the heat rolling off him, pulling me in. "I'm not looking at you."

"Liar." His grin widens as he pushes up from the floor, closing the distance between us in one easy motion. "You've been looking at me since I walked in the door."

I stand, trying to put some space between us, but he steps in even closer. The warmth of his body is impossible to ignore, the firelight casting shadows over his face, making him look more rugged, more dangerous.

"You're full of yourself, aren't you?" I manage, though my voice betrays me, shaky and breathless.

His fingers brush my wrist, light and teasing, sending a shockwave of heat through my body. "Maybe," he says, his voice a low, delicious rumble. "Or maybe I just see what's right in front of me."

Before I can respond, my body betrays me. I step closer, my chest brushing against his. His breath is warm against my face, and I look up into his eyes, my heart pounding in my chest. "Archer…"

That's all I manage before his mouth is on mine.

The kiss is rough, sudden, but not surprising. It's like we've been building up to this since the moment he walked into the inn. His hands slide up my back, pulling me against him, and I lose myself in the heat of him, in the way his lips move over mine with a hunger that matches my own.

I should stop. I should pull back. But I can't. Instead, I kiss him back, harder, deeper, until there's nothing between us but the fire coursing through my veins.

His hands grip my waist, and I feel him smile against my lips. "Thought so," he murmurs, his voice thick with satisfaction.

"Thought what?" I breathe, my hands sliding up to his chest, feeling the solid thud of his heart under my palms.

"That you wanted this as much as I do."

I open my mouth to argue, but the words don't come. Because he's right. I do want this. And it terrifies me how easily I've lost control.

I pull back, just enough to catch my breath. "We shouldn't…"

He brushes a thumb over my bottom lip, his gaze dark and full of promise. "Tell me you don't want this, and I'll stop."

I can't. The words won't come because they'd be a lie. So instead, I do the only thing that feels right in the moment—I kiss him again.

This time, it's slower, more deliberate, the heat between us growing with every second. His hands slide under my shirt, his touch branding me, and I gasp as he pulls me closer, his body solid and warm against mine.

But then, reality crashes back in, and I pull away again, my heart racing. "This is moving too fast."

Archer looks down at me, his expression serious now, but the heat in his eyes hasn't dimmed. "When it's right, it doesn't matter how fast it moves."

I stare at him, my pulse still hammering, and I realize he believes that. He believes that whatever this is, it's happening exactly how it's supposed to. But for me… for me, it's overwhelming.

"I just need… time," I whisper, my voice shaky.

He nods, his thumb brushing over my cheek, gentle despite the intensity between us. "Then I'll wait. But don't expect me to stop wanting you."

The storm rages on outside, but inside, the fire between us is just getting started.