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He's up in an instant, wrapping a blanket around his waist as he joins me. The truck is almost completely obscured now, just a vague outline under several feet of freshly fallen snow. Thick flakes swirl viciously in the inky darkness, and any tracks or paths we made are utterly erased.
"Shit," he mutters under his breath, jaw tightening. "That's not good.”
A tendril of panic starts wrapping around my ribcage as the severity of the situation hits me. "Oh my god, what if we miss Daisy's wedding? She'll legitimately murder me!" Visions of my baby sister's wrath, bridezilla-style, fill my mind.
But Stylz is already all business, moving with the decisive confidence of someone who lives for keeping his cool in crises. He gathers supplies—flashlight, radio, extra blankets—with efficient, purposeful movements.
"Don't worry," he says with a reassuring calm that immediately soothes my rising panic. "I've got this under control."
And just like that, I believe him.
Uncovering an old contraption in the corner of the main room, he establishes radio contact, relaying our coordinates and situation to the rescue team.
"They're sending a crew out as soon as possible," he informs me once he's signed off. "But they warned it could take some time with conditions this fierce." His arms circle my waist from behind, that solid wall of heat seeping into my bones. "All we can do for now is sit tight.”
I lean back against his chest, letting myself be surrounded—physically and emotionally—by this man who exudes such effortless strength. "Okay," I murmur, already feeling more grounded.
"I promise you, Delilah..." His lips graze my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. "Even if I have to carry you there myself, I'll make sure you get to that wedding on time. You have my word."
Slowly, I turn in the circle of his arms until we're face to face. "My hero," I murmur with a soft smile, letting just a hint of teasing lilt my tone.
That half-cocked grin I'm growing so fond of curves his lips as one calloused palm cups my ass, pulling me close. "Well, we've got some time to kill before the rescue crew gets here." His voice is low and rough, with undisguised want. "Maybe I can find a way to keep you occupied..."
As his mouth crashes hungrily into mine, all thoughts of blizzards and weddings and anything else flee my mind entirely.
Right here, in this moment, he's all that exists.
Chapter 7
Stylz
The first rays of morning light are just starting to peek through the frosty cabin windows when I finally stir awake. My body's deliciously sore in that deep, satisfying way that can only come after a night of mind-blowing sex.
A lazy grin tugs at my lips as memories of last night come flooding back—the frenzied passion, the heat of Delilah's skin against mine, the way she cried out my name. Just thinking about it has my blood heating all over again.
I glance down at the woman still sound asleep in my arms, all tousled hair and soft curves pressed against me. In the pale dawn light, she looks utterly at peace, her features relaxed in a way I didn't realize I'd been craving to see.
As if she can sense my eyes on her, Delilah stirs slightly, letting out the most adorable little sigh as she burrows deeper into my embrace. My arm tightens reflexively around her, pulling her closer until there's not a breath of space between us.
It feels... right. Natural. Like we were meant to fit together this way all along, two puzzle pieces finally slotted into place.
The realization hits me square in the gut, stealing my breath for a moment. I've never felt this kind of profound connection with anyone before. Sure, there've been flings—nights of casual, no-strings-attached fun—but this?
This is something else entirely.
I press a kiss to the top of Delilah's head, inhaling her warm, floral scent. She shifts again, those long lashes fluttering open to reveal eyes still heavy with sleep.
"Mmm, morning," she mumbles, her voice low and scratchy. Goddamn, if that isn't the sexiest thing I've ever heard.
"Mornin', gorgeous." The words rumble out of me, low and rough, and I can't resist leaning in to capture her lips in a lingering kiss.
She responds with a soft hum of pleasure, her fingers trailing lazily down my chest, raising goosebumps in their wake. In this little cocoon we've created, everything is quiet and still and perfect.
Until the distant roar of engines shatters the stillness.
Delilah tenses in my arms, her eyes going wide. "Is that...?"
I give a slow nod, feeling that same reluctance to let our intimate little world be disrupted. "Sounds like the rescue crew. They must've finally been able to mobilize."
