Snowed in with My Grump: Chapter Four - Slipping

The storm outside can’t compete with the one burning between them. Tension snaps, restraint breaks, and the past melts into heat and hesitation. But just before they fall all the way in—something shifts.

Chapter Four

Holt 

Slipping

Her kiss tastes like heat and hesitation and something I shouldn’t want again.

But I do.

God, I do.

Her leg brushes mine. Skin to skin now, warm and smooth, and my fingers slide higher along her thigh, past the blanket, past the line I swore I wouldn’t cross.

She doesn’t stop me.

Her breath hitches, sharp, audible, and her fingers curl in the fabric of my shirt like she’s trying to anchor herself. Or maybe trying not to.

I shift closer, chest brushing hers, and the thin tank she’s wearing leaves nothing to the imagination. She’s soft and warm and still Piper in all the ways that get to me, even when I wish they wouldn’t. Even when they shouldn’t.

Her voice breaks the silence again, barely a whisper.

“You’re warm.”

I drag my mouth along her jaw, lips grazing skin that tastes like summer and snow and second chances.

“Good. You were freezing.”

She laughs, low, breathy, and dangerous. Then her hips shift forward like a question.

My answer is a groan against her throat.

“You sure about this?” I manage, because I have to ask. Because this is a bad idea, and I’ve already got my hands halfway under her shirt.

Her eyes meet mine, clear and burning. “I’m not sure about anything right now…except this.”

Then she pulls me down into another kiss, deeper this time, no holding back. Her fingers slide into my hair, nails grazing my scalp like she remembers exactly how I like it.

And I lose the thread of logic completely.

The blanket slips. Her tank rides up. My hand finds bare skin and stays there, palm splayed over the curve of her waist, like I’m trying to relearn her by touch alone. Her body arches under mine, hips lifting, and my control slips one notch further.

Her fingers tug at my waistband, impatient. “Off.”

“You always this bossy?” I mutter against her mouth.

“You always this slow?” she fires back, breathless and grinning.

I roll her onto her back, hovering over her, letting the weight of me settle just enough to feel the way her body fits against mine. Like we were built to break rules together.

Her breath fans against my neck, warm and shaky. “Think this is a bad idea?”

“It’s a terrible idea,” I say, kissing the corner of her mouth. “Might be the worst one we’ve had.”

“Good,” she whispers. “Then let’s do it right.”

I groan, deep and low, and my mouth finds hers again—hungrier now. Her tank slides higher, and I push it up until it’s bunched beneath her arms. Her chest rises with every shaky breath, and when I lean down to press my mouth there, her fingers clench in the sheets.

She whispers my name like it still means something.

Maybe it does.

My hand trails down, across her stomach, lower until I reach the edge of her panties and pause. Her hips lift without hesitation.

That’s all I need.

I slip beneath the fabric, fingers finding the heat of her, and the noise she makes damn near undoes me. I want to drag this out. Make her squirm. Make her beg. But there’s nothing slow about the way she rolls her hips into my hand.

She’s soaked. Ready. Reacting like her body’s been waiting for mine this whole time.

“I should stop,” I grit out, even as I press deeper, slower, watching her fall apart in real time.

“You won’t,” she whispers.

She’s right.

Her head tips back, eyes fluttering closed, and I keep my mouth on her skin, chasing every sound she makes, every shift of her body against mine. Her breath is ragged now, all broken syllables and need, and I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anyone this much.

Then her hand slips between us, finds the hem of my flannel, and slides inside. Her fingers on my skin burn hotter than the fire outside the room.

“Take it off,” she says, voice low and wrecked.

I sit up just enough to shrug out of the flannel. It hits the floor without a sound.

Her eyes rake down my chest, hungry and unguarded. She reaches for me again, but this time I don’t stop her. Instead, my hands slide to the hem of her tank.

I lift it slowly, giving her time to pull back if she wants to.

She doesn’t.

The fabric slips over her head and disappears into the darkness beside the bed. I trail a hand down her body, slow and deliberate, and hook my fingers beneath the waistband of her panties. She lifts her hips without hesitation. I slide them down, past her thighs, past her knees, until they’re gone too—tossed somewhere into the shadows.

Now there’s nothing between us but bare skin and shallow breaths. When she reaches for me again, I catch her wrist gently, stilling her.

“You sure?”

“Yes,” she says, already breathless. “Stop asking me that.”

I lean back in, bracing above her, and her legs wrap around me, bare skin tangled with mine, nothing between us now but a few inches and the last shred of restraint I have.

Her hand slides lower, grazing the waistband of my sweats, and I bite back a curse.

“Tell me to stop,” I say one more time, voice rough.

“I won’t,” she says, just as my lips find hers again.

And this time, I don’t hold back.

I shift my hips, press forward, and her body arches to meet mine like we’re following choreography we haven’t forgotten. The head of my cock slides against her, and she’s already so wet, so ready, it takes everything in me not to bury myself all the way.

My name leaves her lips again, gasped and messy, and the grip she has on my shoulders turns desperate. Needy.

I nudge her legs wider. Her breath catches. My hand finds hers and threads our fingers together above her head, pinning her to the bed with just enough pressure to remind her who’s in charge here—even if she started it.

But before I can give in fully—before the last inch disappears and nothing stands between us but the thinnest excuse of logic—

She breathes out, voice barely there. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“It is,” I murmur. “Right now.”

And then she kisses me again—deep, certain, no going back.

Because this?

This isn’t over.

It’s barely started.

Come back tomorrow for Chapter Five

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