Snowed In and Seduced

Emma Wells regretted this trip the second she saw the first snowflake, yet she made the long journey anyway just to fulfill the promise to her friend. She said she was going to come, and now here she was, albeit barely.

She pulled her coat tighter around her body as she trudged through the ankle-deep snow toward the log cabin. The air was crisp, scented with pine and frost, but instead of feeling festive, all she felt was cold.

“This better be worth it, Natalie,” she muttered under her breath. Her best friend had practically begged her to spend Christmas at her family’s cabin, promising a quiet escape from the holiday madness. But what she had conveniently left out was that her insufferable brother would be here, too.

The door swung open before she could even knock. And there he was.

Logan Reid.

Smirking. Shirtless. Wearing nothing but gray sweatpants that hung dangerously low on his hips.

Emma froze. Her mouth went dry. Oh, come on.

“Well, well,” Logan drawled, leaning against the doorframe, muscles flexing in the dim cabin light. “Looks like Christmas came early.”

She scowled, shoving past him into the warmth of the cabin. “Put a damn shirt on, Logan.”

He chuckled, closing the door behind her. “Why? You’re staring like it’s the best gift you’ve ever gotten.”

She turned to glare at him, but he wasn’t wrong. Logan had always been unfairly gorgeous—tall, broad, with dark hair that was just messy enough to look like he’d rolled out of bed in the most delicious way. Which, knowing him, he probably had.

“Where’s Natalie?” she asked, setting her bag down.

Logan stretched, yawning. “Flight got delayed. She won’t be here till tomorrow.”

Emma’s stomach dropped. “You’re joking, right?”

“Afraid not, sweetheart.” His grin was downright sinful. “Looks like it’s just you and me.”

Emma’s stomach twisted. A full night alone with Logan? That was not the plan.

“Nope.” She grabbed her bag, turning toward the door. “I’ll get a hotel in town.”

Logan tsked. “Bad idea, sweetheart.”

She shot him a glare, but he already moving, sauntering past her to the window. He pulled the curtain back, revealing nothing but a thick wall of white. The snowstorm had officially turned into a blizzard.

“These roads aren’t suitable for driving in this condition,” he said, looking entirely too pleased about it. “which means no escaping me.”

Emma clenched her jaw. “Perfect.”

“Aw, don’t sound so disappointed,” Logan smirked, stepping closer, his heat pressing against her back. “You might even enjoy my company.”

She turned to face him, which only made things worse—because now, she was eye-level with his bare chest. His ridiculously chiseled, unfairly tan chest.

Focus, Emma.

“Doubtful,” she muttered, brushing past him.

The cabin was cozy, with a stone fireplace crackling in the corner and twinkling lights wrapped around the beams. It smelled like pine, woodsmoke, some delicious, and something else—something masculine. Something very Logan.

“You hungry?” Logan called from the kitchen. “I made dinner.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You? Cooked?”

He shrugged, pulling out a tray of roasted chicken and vegetables. “I have layers.”

She hated that she was impressed. Worse, she hated the way her stomach growled in response.

With a sigh, she sat at the kitchen island as Logan poured them each a glass of wine. “So,” he said, sliding one toward her. “Tell me, Emma—why do you hate Christmas so much?”

She stiffened. “I don’t hate it.”

“Really?” He leaned in, his deep brown eyes locked onto hers. “Because I’ve known you for years, and I’ve never seen you smile during the holidays.”

Emma gripped her glass, staring down at the deep red liquid. “Christmas just… isn’t the same anymore.”

Logan didn’t push. He just watched her, his usual cocky grin replaced by something quieter.

For a moment, silence stretched between them, thick with something unspoken.

Then he smirked. “Well, I’m going to make it my mission to change that.”

She snorted. “Good luck.”

“Oh, I don’t need luck, sweetheart.” He sipped his wine, his gaze dipping to her lips. “I just need time and lucky for me, we’ve got all night.”