The second morning dawned gray and merciless. Ava pressed her forehead to the cold windowpane and watched snow continue to fall in thick, relentless sheets. The drifts had climbed halfway up the porch posts; the driveway was gone, swallowed whole. No plow would reach this far back mountain road for days. Maybe longer.
She was trapped.
And the strangest part? The fear she'd expected to feel wasn't there. In its place was something quieter, more dangerous: anticipation.
She padded back to the guest room and opened the small dresser Ethan had pointed out yesterday. Her own clothes were still damp in the laundry room, refusing to dry in the low heat. The only options were more borrowed things. She pulled out a charcoal hoodie Liam's, judging by the faint scent that rose when she lifted it to her face. Pine needles after rain. A hint of expensive cologne. Something darker underneath, like skin warmed by firelight.
She slipped it on anyway. The fabric was soft, worn at the cuffs from countless wears. It draped past her hips, swallowing the borrowed sweatpants. When she tugged the hood up, the collar brushed her cheek and she inhaled unconsciously, guiltily like she could borrow more than just clothing.
Downstairs, Ethan was already at the stove again, this time wearing a faded black thermal that clung to every ridge of muscle. He didn't look up when she entered, but his shoulders stiffened.
"Morning," she said.
He grunted. Poured coffee without asking if she wanted it. When he slid the mug across the island, his gaze flicked to the hoodie once, sharply then away. His jaw muscle ticked.
Liam appeared a moment later, fresh from the shower, towel slung low around his hips. Water still glistened on his collarbones. He stopped short when he saw her.
"That's mine," he said, voice low and amused.
Ava lifted one shoulder. "Everything else is wet. You mind?"
His eyes darkened as they traced the way the hoodie hung loose on her frame, then brushing the tops of her thighs. "Nah," he drawled. "Looks better on you anyway."
Ethan's spoon clinked hard against the edge of his mug.
Breakfast was tense, silent except for the scrape of cutlery and the low moan of wind against the eaves. Afterward, Ava offered to help with dishes. Ethan waved her off. Liam, however, followed her to the sink.
"Need a hand?" he asked, crowding close behind her under the pretense of reaching for a towel.
She felt the heat of him at her back, the brush of damp skin against her arm. "I've got it."
"Sure you do." His fingers grazed hers when he handed her the dish towel deliberate. Slow.
She turned too fast. Their bodies nearly collided. Liam didn't step back.
From the doorway, Ethan watched. Said nothing. But the air between the three of them thickened until it felt hard to breathe.
Later, Ava escaped to the bathroom. She needed space. Hot water. A few minutes to remind herself that she was only here because of a storm, not because she wanted to be.
She showered longer than necessary, letting steam fill the small room until the mirror fogged completely. When she finally stepped out, dripping, she realized too late: no towel on the rack. She'd used the one from last night and forgotten to grab a fresh one.
"Shit," she muttered.
She cracked the door an inch. "Hey can someone"
Liam was already there.
He stood in the hallway, frozen mid-step, eyes locked on her. Steam curled out around her bare shoulders, water trailing down her collarbone, between her breasts, over the curve of her stomach. She clutched the door edge like a shield, but it hid almost nothing.
"Fuck," he breathed. The word sounded punched out of him.
Ava's face flamed. "Towel. Please."
He didn't move for a long second. Then he reached blindly for the linen closet beside him, pulled out a thick white bath sheet, and extended it slowly. His fingers brushed hers then slid up the inside of her wrist, trailing along the sensitive skin of her forearm as he handed it over.
The touch lingered.
Ava yanked the towel inside and slammed the door, heart slamming against her ribs. She pressed her back to the wood, breathing hard.
She didn't hear Ethan approach.
But when she finally emerged wrapped in the towel, hair dripping, cheeks still burning he was waiting in the narrow hallway.
He didn't speak at first. Just looked at her with those storm-gray eyes that seemed to see straight through skin.
Then he stepped closer.
Too close.
"My son looks at you like you're his next meal," he said quietly. Dangerously.
Ava swallowed. "He's… friendly."
"Friendly." Ethan's laugh was short, humorless. He lifted a hand and caught her wrist gently, but firm enough that she couldn't pull away without effort. "Stay away from him."
His thumb found her pulse point. Stroked once. Slow.
Heat arrowed straight to her core.
"And from me," he added, voice rougher now.
But he didn't let go.
His thumb kept moving tiny, deliberate circles over the frantic beat of her heart. Ava felt the pull low in her belly, liquid and insistent. She should step back. She should tell him to stop.
Instead she whispered, "You're the one touching me."
Ethan's gaze dropped to her mouth. "I know."
For one endless heartbeat neither moved.
Then he released her wrist like it burned him, stepped back, and walked away without another word.
Ava stood there trembling, pulse echoing in her ears, skin too tight for her body.
Night came early, the storm still raging. The power was still out; the generator had been coaxed back to life for essentials only. Ethan disappeared into the basement to check something. Liam suggested the sauna "Best way to warm up when the heat's spotty."
Ava hesitated.
"It's downstairs," he said, grin lazy. "Private. You can go first."
She should have said no.
Instead she nodded.
The basement was finished warm cedar paneling, low lighting, a small sauna tucked in the corner. She changed into a towel nothing else and stepped inside. The heat hit instantly, wrapping around her like a second skin. She sat on the upper bench, eyes closed, letting the steam soak into her muscles, trying to steam away the confusion knotting her insides.
She didn't hear the door open.
But she felt the shift in temperature, the brief rush of cooler air.
Her eyes snapped open.
Liam stood just inside, towel knotted low on his hips, steam already beading on his skin.
"Mind if I join?" he asked.
She should have minded.
"You said I could go first."
"You did." He shrugged, unapologetic. "But it's more fun with company."
He sat on the bench opposite her close enough that their knees almost brushed. Steam curled between them, blurring edges. His eyes were dark, hungry.
"Dad would kill me if he knew I was here," he said softly. Teasing. But there was truth underneath.
"Then why are you?"
"Because I can't stop thinking about how you looked coming out of that shower." He leaned forward slightly. "Because every time you wear my hoodie I want to take it off you."
Ava's breath caught.
He stood. Moved closer. The steam made everything feel dreamlike, unreal. His hand lifted slow brushing a damp strand of hair from her cheek waiting for her to tell him to leave.She didn't.
His fingers trailed down her neck, over the edge of the towel where it clung to her breasts. Not pushing. Just… tracing. Testing.
Ava's nipples tightened under the terrycloth. She felt exposed, raw, alive in a way she hadn't in months.
Then the door slammed open.
Ethan stood framed in the doorway, towel slung dangerously low on his hips, water still glistening on his chest from his own shower. His expression was thunder.
"Both of you out. Now."
His voice cracked like a whip.
But he didn't move. His eyes devoured her slow, deliberate taking in the flush on her cheeks, the way the towel barely covered her, the steam-slick shine on her skin.
Liam straightened but didn't back away.Ava sat frozen between them.
The three of them stood there, towels barely clinging, heat pressing in from every side. No one spoke. No one moved.
The air crackled thick with unspoken want, with the razor edge of something about to break. And none of them looked away.