HOW TO CATCH A BAD BOY

She inhaled. “Why’d you guys do that?”

“Who knows?” he admitted. “We were seventeen and bored, and our friends probably thought we’d be too chicken shit to do it.”

Elena was a loud thinker, he was coming to realize. Especially when she was trying to figure something out. And right now, she was trying to figure him out. She stared at that picture so hard, he was surprised it didn’t jump off the wall.

“No wonder,” she murmured.

He stepped closer behind her and took a slow inhale. It was stronger than it had been on the pillow, that incredible scent. He had to fight not to bury his nose in her hair, wrap his arms around her from behind, and glory in how warm and soft she’d be tucked into his body.

It was so clear she wanted to put him together like a puzzle that no one had sorted. But eventually, she’d see that it wasn’t as complicated as all that. He was what his family thought. A screwup and a disappointment. He was what Paul thought too. A hothead who didn’t think things through.

“No wonder what?” his voice sounded rusty.

She turned and faced him, and he refused to budge even a single inch. But then again, Elena didn’t move either. He inhaled deeply, and his chest almost brushed hers, that’s how close they stood. He wanted to kiss her. For a lot of reasons. Because of how she looked. Because of how she made him feel. Because she was trying to find something inside him that didn’t exist, something good and sweet and thoughtful that meant his parents hadn’t completely jacked him up.

“No wonder you’d do anything for him. I think… that despite everything, you turned out to be a good man, Chandler Kendrick” she said quietly.

The breath caught in his throat. She gently laid her hand over his heart, and he slid his palm up her arm to anchor it there. Her skin … it was so, so soft.

“I’m glad they didn’t ruin you, Chandler.”

Elena tugged her hand out from under his and brushed past him, stopping to fiddle with the radio on the kitchen counter. He braced a hand on the wall, pinched his eyes shut, and tried to figure out what was happening inside his chest after just a few words from her. Because that simply, that quickly, she’d completely ripped the rug out from underneath him.

The station she turned on was news, and she turned a few knobs to lessen the static. “Well, everyone,” the disembodied voice said. “This is shaping up to smash the previous record snowfall for April, and it won’t be stopping for the next twenty to twenty four hours. So stay safe, stay warm, and enjoy the snow.”

Chandler turned his head to stare at Elena. Looks like he had some time to figure out the answer to his own puzzle-what the hell to do with Elena Davis.

“I’m going to take a nap,” she said, and headed upstairs.

___________

Six hours… And an entire snow family-later, Chandler did something he’d never done before. He took a cold-ass shower after being outside in the snow.

Eventually, he’d have to start calling this strange reaction to Elena Davis The Princess Effect because holy hell, the woman was killing him slowly with one look, one touch at a time. In that tiny bathroom, he’d almost lost the shaky grasp on his control. Because while she might not have asked him to kiss her or touch her again, she wanted him to. Everything he saw in her big brown eyes was almost certainly reflected in his.Nôvel(D)rama.Org's content.

Maybe he knew what held him back because he wasn’t a guy who forced himself on a woman, no matter how she was looking at him, but for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what the hell was holding her back, especially after that amazing time they had that evening at his parents house, and at Elijah’s wedding.

For hours, they played in the steadily falling snow, using ridiculous props to make a four-person snow family, and for hours, she avoided prolonged eye contact or accidental touching of any kind. Not that he would’ve felt anything good, layered up like they were. And as the frigid water beat down on him, he had to laugh at himself that he still needed a cold shower. Because no matter how little eye contact or how little touching, he wanted Elena so badly he felt like he could’ve melted every inch of snow coating the forest outside of that cabin.

Goosebumps popped on his skin, but still, he braced his hands against the shower wall and took a few deep breaths. His reaction to her defied any common sense unless it was just the fact that she seemed so unattainable. That she evaded him just enough that he wanted to reach out and snatch her to him, hold her close, and feel everything about her that he wanted to feel again. Taste her lips again. Grip her skin and see which parts of her body felt the best under his impatient hands. They’d been in a hurry the two times he’d touched her and now he wanted to take his time to explore. Not the thoughts to be having when she was less than fifteen feet away from him, cuddled up under a blanket on the couch, which was where he’d left her when he ducked into the shower.

With a violent shove, he turned the water off and shivered. A threadbare towel was hanging along the back of the door, and he scrubbed himself dry as quickly as possible. By the time he’d tugged on his clothes, he felt a bit less crazed and a hell of a lot colder. Thanks to the fire he’d started again after their time outdoors, he opened the bathroom door to a wave of warm air.

Fragrant, warm air.

“What is that smell?” he groaned happily.

No longer cuddled on the couch, Elena was in the kitchen, stirring something in a large cast-iron pan over the small stovetop. She smiled at him. “I raided the pantry, and he had some pasta and just enough to make a decent tomato sauce. So … Italian it is. I hope that’s okay.”

“More than okay.” Chandler came up behind her, keeping a few inches between her back and his chest. Her hair was pulled up off her neck, wisps of dark brown hair trailing down the length of her neck. “You cook too.” He said,