2 Locked in: Snowbound with the rival

TENSION IGNITES

Lila.

The silence between us lasted less than an hour.

I had claimed the bedroom and tried to settle in, but the storm outside kept growing louder. Then the lights started flickering. Once. Twice. On the third flicker, everything went black except for the warm glow of the fireplace in the living room.

“Great,” I muttered, pulling on a thick sweater. “This just keeps getting better.”

I walked out to find Marcus already stacking more wood beside the fire. The cabin felt smaller in the dark, the walls closing in with every gust of wind.

“We need to talk about supplies,” he said without looking at me. “There’s enough food in the kitchen for a few days if we’re smart. I’ll take the couch.”

“No. I’ll take the couch,” I replied, crossing my arms. “You’re bigger. You’ll be more comfortable in the bed.”

Marcus stood up slowly, brushing his hands on his jeans. The firelight danced across his face, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw. “Always so stubborn, Lila. Just take the damn bed.”

“Why are you acting like you’re doing me a favor?” I snapped. “This whole situation is your fault somehow. I just know it.”

“My fault?” He laughed, but there was no humor in it. “You really think I want to be trapped here with you? The woman who badmouths me to every client in the industry?”

I stepped closer, anger rising fast. “Badmouth? You stole the Thompson account from me with dirty tactics. You spread rumors that my team missed deadlines. Don’t act like you’re innocent.”

Marcus moved forward too. The heat from the fire couldn’t compete with the heat rolling off him. “And you told everyone I only win pitches because I sleep with clients. Real professional, Harper.”

My cheeks burned. I had said that once, after too much wine at an after-party. I didn’t think he knew.

“That was one time,” I shot back. “And maybe if you weren’t such an arrogant prick all the time, people wouldn’t believe it so easily.”

We were inches apart now. I could see the muscle ticking in his jaw. My heart pounded hard against my ribs. Part of me wanted to slap him. Another part, a dangerous part I had ignored for years, wanted something else entirely.

“You drive me fucking crazy,” he growled. “Always have.”

“Yeah? Well you’re not exactly my favorite person either,” I said, voice shaking with anger and something hotter. “You walk around like you own every room you enter. Like you own me.”

His eyes darkened. “Maybe I should.”

Before I could respond, Marcus grabbed my waist and pulled me against him. His mouth crashed down on mine in a savage kiss. It wasn’t gentle. It was angry, hungry, and full of every fight we had ever had. I hated how good it felt.

I kissed him back just as hard, my hands fisting in his shirt. All the years of tension exploded between us. I bit his bottom lip. He groaned and pushed me backward until my back hit the wooden wall.

“God, I hate you,” I gasped between kisses, even as my body arched into him.

“Same,” he muttered, yanking my sweater over my head. Buttons flew as he tore at my blouse underneath. His hands were rough, possessive, sliding over my skin like he had been waiting to do this for years.

He dropped to his knees in front of me, eyes locked on mine with pure challenge. Before I could protest, he shoved my skirt up around my waist, ripped my panties down my thighs, and buried his face between my legs. His mouth was hot and demanding as he sucked my pussy hard, his tongue flicking and circling my clit with filthy precision.

“Ahh!” I moaned loudly, the sound mixing sharp pleasure and burning anger. “Fuck you, Marcus!”

The words came out broken because it felt too good. I grabbed his hair, half trying to pull him away and half holding him tighter against me. He sucked harder, licking every wet fold, growling against my sensitive flesh. My thighs trembled around his shoulders. I hated him for making me this wet, for knowing exactly how to work his tongue on me.

He slipped two thick fingers deep inside me without warning, pumping them in a steady, demanding rhythm while his mouth continued devouring my clit. His other hand reached up and grabbed my breast roughly, squeezing and pinching my nipple. The combination made my back arch off the wall. Pleasure and rage twisted together until I couldn’t tell which was stronger.

“You’re such an asshole,” I panted, even as my hips rocked shamelessly against his face and fingers. My inner walls clenched around him, betraying how badly my body wanted this.

Marcus pulled back just enough to look up at me, lips shiny with my arousal. “Yet you’re dripping down my chin.”

We stumbled toward the rug in front of the fireplace. Marcus pushed me down and came over me, his weight pinning me in the best way. His mouth moved to my neck, sucking hard enough to leave marks. I moaned despite myself, my hips lifting to meet the obvious hardness pressing against me.

“You talk so much shit,” he said against my skin, voice rough, “but your body wants this so bad.”

“Shut up,” I breathed, reaching between us to unzip his jeans. I wrapped my hand around him and squeezed. He cursed loudly.

Clothes came off in a frantic rush. My bra. His pants. Everything tossed aside. There was no slow seduction, no sweet words. Just pure need and months of built-up frustration.

Marcus spread my legs and thrust into me in one hard stroke. I cried out, my nails digging into his back. He felt huge, stretching me perfectly. The mix of anger and pleasure made my head spin.

“Fuck, Lila,” he groaned, starting to move. Deep, punishing strokes that made my toes curl.

I met every thrust, rolling my hips, refusing to let him have all the control. We fought even here, bodies slapping together, moans and harsh breaths filling the cabin. He pinned my wrists above my head with one hand while the other gripped my thigh, driving into me harder.

I hated how close I already was. I hated how good he felt. And I loved it at the same time.

The storm raged outside, but nothing compared to the storm happening right here on the rug in front of the fire.