The fire in the chalet's hearth was the only thing cutting through the bone-deep chill of the Alpine night. It cast long, amber shadows across the heavy oak desk, flickering against the glass of Scotch that Castiel hadn't touched in an hour. For once, the merger documents in front of him were nothing more than blurred ink. He wasn't looking at the numbers. He was watching Brittany.
She was across the room, reaching for a stray file near the frosted window. The professional distance she'd maintained for two years—the invisible, iron-clad wall—suddenly felt paper-thin, vibrating with a tension that made his pulse thrum in his ears.
"Brittany," he said. His voice was a low rasp, cutting through the quiet of the room like a blade.
She turned, the orange glow of the fire dancing in her eyes. "Yes, Castiel?"
She still used his name like a title, but her voice wavered, just a fraction. It was the crack in her armor he'd been subconsciously waiting for.
He stood, his movements slow and predatory, stripped of his usual corporate polish. He didn't stop until he was standing directly in her space, the scent of her vanilla perfume clashing with the cedarwood of the cabin. He reached out, his thumb tracing the sharp line of her jaw. Her skin was electric, blooming hot under his touch.
"The contract doesn't cover this," he whispered, his gaze dropping to her mouth.
Brittany's breath hitched, her chest rising and falling in a ragged rhythm. "Cover what?"
"The way I've wanted to break every one of my own rules since the day you walked into my office."
He didn't wait for a rebuttal. He slid his hand into the hair at the nape of her neck, tilting her head back as he claimed her mouth. It wasn't the kiss of a man of logic; it was a desperate, starved reclamation. Brittany let out a soft, broken moan, her fingers digging into the expensive wool of his blazer, anchoring herself to him as the world tilted.
Castiel lifted her easily, clearing the desk with a single sweep of his arm. Documents worth millions scattered onto the floor like autumn leaves, ignored. His hands, usually so calculated and precise, were frantic now, roaming over the curve of her hips. When he pulled back just an inch to press his face into the hollow of her throat, his breath was a jagged wreck.
"I've spent two years pretending I don't see you," he growled against her skin, his palms sliding up her thighs. "Two years wanting to hear you say my name when there isn't a single soul around to hear us."
"Castiel," she gasped, her eyes fluttering shut as his teeth grazed her collarbone. "Please... no more waiting."
He looked up, his blue eyes dark with a hunger that no amount of success could ever satisfy. As he reached for the buttons of her blouse, the cold mountain air outside felt like a distant memory. In here, there was only the roar of the fire and the heat of two people finally surrendering to a fire of their own.