Snowed in with My Grump: Chapter Five - Not Just the Storm

The storm outside might be easing, but the one between them is only just beginning to settle. After a night that leaves them both bare—physically and emotionally—Piper wakes alone. Again. But this time, it doesn’t end in silence. Truths are spoken. Fears are named. And somewhere between the heat of the moment and the ache of the past, a quiet promise forms: maybe this time, they won’t run.

Chapter Five

Holt 

Not Just the Storm

His body is heavy and solid over mine, every inch of him buried deep. My breath stutters. Not from the cold. That’s long forgotten. It’s the way he feels familiar and foreign, like I’m remembering something I never should’ve let myself forget.

Outside, the storm rages on. But in here, everything is silent but us.

Holt doesn’t move. Not yet. Just stays there, forehead resting against mine like he’s trying to slow his own breathing. Like he’s giving me a second to catch up.

I don’t need one.

I tilt my hips, just barely, and feel him twitch inside me in response.

He groans low in his throat, that sound he makes when he’s trying not to lose control.

“Piper,” he says, voice ragged.

“I’m not stopping you.”

That’s all it takes.

He draws back, just enough to make me ache, then pushes forward again slow and deep. Not hard. Not rushed. Just… thorough. Like he’s making sure I feel every single inch of him. Like he wants to remind my body what it used to know.

I arch under him, legs curling tighter around his hips, heels pressing into the backs of his thighs.

His breath hitches. “Jesus.”

I smile. “Feel good?”

His eyes meet mine, dark and wrecked. “You don’t want me to answer that.”

“Try me.”

His mouth drops to my neck, lips brushing just beneath my jaw. “You feel like sin,” he growls. “And I’ve never wanted to be worse.”

Then he fucks me like he means it.

Slow, steady thrusts that build pressure with every pass. My hands roam up his chest, fingers skimming sweat-damp skin, the blanket kicked halfway off now. His body is hot against mine, all that bare skin rubbing and grinding until it’s impossible to tell where he ends and I begin.

One of his hands finds my thigh, pushes it higher, opens me wider.

“Look at me,” he says, voice low and strained.

And I do, god I do.

And just like that, I’m undone.

It crashes over me in waves, my body clenching around him so hard it knocks the breath from my lungs. I gasp, one arm flying up to clutch the pillow, the other fisting in his hair as I come with a cry I can’t contain.

He doesn’t stop.

He slows and lets me feel every second of it—but he doesn’t stop. Not while he’s watching me fall apart. Not until I’ve ridden out every last aftershock.

And only then does he follow.

His thrusts lose rhythm, hips jerking, a broken sound leaving his throat as he spills inside me with a muffled curse against my neck.

We don’t move right away after that.

We just lie there in the dark, chests rising and falling, skin damp, breath mingled.

My head spins. I should say something. I just don’t know what.

So I don’t. I let the quiet stretch.

Eventually, he shifts, one arm sliding beneath me, the other pulling the blanket back over us. I curl into him instinctively. Like I’ve done it a hundred times before. And I don’t remember why I stopped.

His hand finds my hip. Holds me there.

And for once, I don’t fight it.

Minutes pass. Or maybe hours. I don’t know anymore.

The storm outside howls louder, wind shaking the windowpane. But the fire’s still burning. So is he.

I feel him stir again, half-hard already.

“You’re kidding,” I whisper, smiling against his chest.

His chuckle is low, dangerous. “It’s been a while.”

“Do you hear me complaining?”

“Not a damn bit.”

He flips me before I can respond, mouth crashing into mine as the blankets fall away again.

And just like that, the fire starts all over.

His body moves over mine with the kind of control that barely masks everything he’s holding back. Like if he lets go, even for a second, we’ll both get consumed.

And maybe we will.

Because when his hips press forward, slow and deliberate, I feel it everywhere, deep and raw and impossible to ignore. My breath stutters. My legs tighten around him. And the sound that leaves me doesn’t even try to be quiet.

He curses low, forehead resting against mine like it’s the only thing keeping him from losing it completely.

The blanket slips lower, heat twisting higher. His hand slides beneath it again, rough palm skating up the outside of my thigh, over my hip, tracing the curve of my waist like he’s memorizing it. My breath catches as he shifts deeper, and the sound that leaves my mouth is nothing short of wrecked.

He groans against my neck, one hand bracing beside my head, the other gripping my hip tight enough to ground me. Or maybe himself. "Fuck, Piper."

I don’t know if it’s a warning or a prayer.

It doesn’t matter. My hands are already moving, dragging up his back, holding him to me like he’s the only thing that feels real. The only thing keeping me from falling apart.

"You okay?" he asks, voice low and strained.

"Yeah." My legs tighten around him. "Don’t stop."

His mouth finds mine again, slower this time. Like he’s letting himself feel it. Like maybe he needs it just as bad. Our bodies fall into rhythm, his pace steady and deep, each thrust driving the breath from my lungs.

The storm still howls outside, but all I can hear is the sound of his breath, the soft curse when I whisper his name, the way the bed creaks beneath us in the quiet cabin.

Everything is warm now. My skin. His touch. The pressure building low and deep, curling tighter with every movement.

I gasp as he shifts again, hitting just right, and his mouth catches mine to swallow the sound. His hand slides between us, fingers finding the spot I need him most. My body arches, nerves sparking white-hot.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, voice low and rough against my ear. “Come on, baby. Let me feel you.”

“I’m going to rub this pretty little clit till you come all over me,” he growls. “You gonna come for me, Piper? Gonna give it to me like you used to?”

He circles it slow at first, teasing, coaxing, then adds just enough pressure to send heat flashing up my spine.

And I do.

My whole body goes tight, pleasure crashing through me like lightning, stealing my breath. I cry out against his shoulder, barely aware of anything except the way he keeps moving, keeps chasing his own release.

When he gets there, it’s with a low, guttural moan and a whispered curse into my neck. His body shudders, grip on my waist tightening, hips slowing until he stills.

Silence settles over us, broken only by the sound of our breathing.

We don’t move.

Because whatever just happened between us didn’t fix anything.

But it broke something wide open.

His forehead rests against mine again, breath still heavy. And for one suspended second, it’s quiet. Real. Raw in a way that terrifies me more than the storm ever could.

I whisper the truth before I can stop myself.

"I missed you."

His body goes still.

Then slowly, he pulls back just enough to look at me. His gaze is unreadable, eyes dark in the firelight.

And then, without a word, he climbs out of bed and disappears into the dark hall.

Leaving me aching. Still warm. And alone.

Again.

I stare at the ceiling, heart hammering, skin tingling in every place he touched. The room is quiet now, just the sound of the storm and my own uneven breath.

God, what just happened?

Shit! I fucked up.

And then the panic hits.

Because I told him I missed him.

Out loud.

With actual words.

And he didn’t say a damn thing back. Didn’t look at me. Didn’t even breathe different.

He just got up, and walked out, no explanation, no glance over his shoulder, nothing.

I don’t know if I’m humiliated or just heartbroken.

Maybe both. Because for one second, I let myself believe this could mean something.

That I wasn’t the only one who felt it. And now I’m lying here naked, aching, and completely alone. Again.

The door creaks open, and a moment later, the mattress shifts as his weight sinks in behind me—his arm draping over my waist, pulling me straight into the heat of him.

“Didn’t mean to leave you like that,” Holt mutters, voice low and rough.

I swallow hard. “But you did.”

A beat. Then, softer, “I know.”

His hand finds mine under the blanket, fingers sliding between mine without asking. Just holding.

“I needed a second,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. “You… undid me, Piper.”

I don’t know what to say to that. So I don’t say anything.

But I turn, shifting so I can see his face. His eyes meet mine in the dark, unreadable and raw.

“You’re not the only one who ran,” he says finally. “I did too. I should have been  there for you, but I wasn’t.”

I tuck myself against his chest, letting his warmth replace the chill that hasn’t quite left me since I walked out of his life. He holds me tighter, one hand stroking slow along my spine, grounding us both.

“I’m still mad at you,” I murmur into the silence.

He lets out a breath that could almost be a laugh. “Good.”

“Still think you’re a grumpy asshole.”

“Also fair.”

I smile against his skin.

Outside, the wind starts to settle. The worst of the storm passing.

But inside, in his arms, I finally feel still.

Warm. Wanted. Here.

Home.

The End

Copyright © by LS Phoenix

No portion of this story may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

Published by LS Phoenix

New Hampshire, USA

https://linktr.ee/authorlsphoenix

First Edition: December 2025

Cover Design by LS Phoenix