Chapter 15: Fire and Frost
The snow fell in soft, heavy flakes, clinging to my hair like it belonged there.
I laughed as I tumbled sideways into a snowbank, my skis askew, my pride bruised but intact.
"You're going to lose points for style," Jonas called, skiing down effortlessly and stopping right beside me with that infuriating, gorgeous smirk.
"I was demonstrating an advanced falling technique," I replied, brushing snow from my jacket. "Very niche. Very elite."
He offered me his gloved hand. I took it, letting him pull me up far too easily—his strength always made my heart skip.
But it was the way he looked at me that made everything else disappear. Playful. Protective. That warmth in his eyes that melted more than just snow.
Back at the cabin, the mood was bright and messy. Someone was trying to light the fondue burner with a hairdryer (don't ask), Mia and Leo were half cuddling, half cheating at cards, and laughter echoed off the log walls.
Jonas and I had claimed a corner by the crackling fireplace. The golden light danced across his face, illuminating every sharp angle and soft curve.
I leaned against him, half listening to the chatter around us, fully aware of his arm around me.
His fingers idly traced patterns up and down my spine.
Every stroke sent tiny electric pulses along my skin, and my breathing hitched.
I leaned into his touch, my body both relaxed and utterly charged. It was ridiculous—how one man could undo me so effortlessly, just by existing.
"You okay?" he murmured near my ear, voice low and wrapped in heat.
I nodded slowly. "Mhm. Just warm."
Liar. I was burning.
He shifted slightly and tightened his hold on me. His chin rested lightly against the top of my head, his palm pressed into my back.
The pressure, the warmth, the subtle dominance of his embrace—every nerve in my body stood at attention.
When he whispered, "I could hold you like this forever," I nearly lost my breath.
Later at dinner, Mia leaned over and nudged me under the table. "You're slightly obvious," she whispered. "I mean, if you drooled any more when Jonas talks, I'd need to get you a bib."
I choked on my wine and elbowed her. "I do not."
"Oh please," she said with a wink. "You watch him like he's dessert."
Jonas caught our whispering and raised an eyebrow. "What's going on over there?"
"Girl talk," Mia said sweetly. "Nothing that would interest a man who's too pretty for his own good."
His mouth curved. "That sounds suspiciously like jealousy."
Mia threw her napkin at him. I couldn't help smiling. He really was dangerously attractive, and the way he teased—God help me—I liked it far too much.
The next morning, Jonas convinced me to try a red slope. "You've got this," he said, encouraging, which of course was a trap.
I lasted maybe thirty seconds before screaming as I missed a turn and barrelled into a snowbank—again.
When I looked up, I found Jonas on the ground laughing so hard he had tears in his eyes.
"Don't. Say. A. Word," I warned, but he was already gasping.
"I think... you invented a new snow angel technique!"
By the time I stumbled to my feet, he was right beside me, pulling me into his arms, breathless with laughter. I couldn't help it—I laughed too, cheeks red, not just from the cold.
He brushed a kiss to my temple, still smiling.
"You're my favorite chaos on skis."
"Your only chaos," I muttered.
"And still number one."
That night, in the quiet of our room, the glow of the fireplace low, he held me again. But this time, with intention.
His lips found mine slowly, deliberately. His hand caressed my back, fingertips moving under the edge of my sweater, meeting bare skin. I arched toward him, my breath caught between pleasure and anticipation.
"You're shaking," he whispered.
"I'm cold," I lied again.
"No, you're not."
His kiss deepened, and with it came the truth: I wanted every part of him. The calm and the storm. The fire and the frost.