My Secret Santa Daddies (Silver Ridge Christmas)

14. Sierra

14

SIERRA

W ater drips onto the hardwood floor, my towel is barely clinging to my body. My skin is still heated from the hot tub, but now, it’s burning with something else entirely. Griffin’s broad shoulders are tense, muscles shifting under his shirt. The intensity in his eyes makes the air feel heavy, and thick. His jaw clenches, and I can see the tension in the muscles of his neck, in the way his hands flex at his sides like he’s trying to hold himself back.

But my feet are rooted to the spot, and my towel slips to the floor, pooling around my ankles. He doesn’t even spare it a glance as his heated gaze meets mine.

“Griffin,” I breathe out, my voice hoarse.

He cuts me off with a kiss, his mouth crushing into mine, consuming me. His hands fist in my wet hair, angling my head so he can deepen the kiss.

I’m consumed by his touch, by the feel of his lips on mine after all these years. I moan into his mouth as his tongue slips past my lips, tangling with mine in a dance we know all too well.

Desire uncoils low in my belly, and my body arches toward him like a magnet drawn to its source. Our kisses turn desperate, and frantic as we both make up for lost time.

His hands glide over my bare skin, his rough palms skimming over my curves, leaving trails of heat in their wake. I gasp as he cups my breasts, thumbs brushing over my sensitive nipples. He groans into my mouth, the sound vibrating through me.

"Fuck, Sierra," he breathes against my lips. "I've missed this. Missed you."

The words pierce through the haze of lust, and I pull back slightly, searching his face. His dark eyes are hooded, blazing with desire, but there's a rawness there too, an aching vulnerability I haven't seen in years. Not since...

I shake my head, banishing the painful memories. I can't think about that now. Can't let the ghosts of our past overshadow this moment.

"Griffin," I whisper, my hands sliding up his chest to curl around his neck. "Please..."

He understands my unspoken plea. In one swift motion, he lifts me up, my legs wrapping around his waist as he carries me to the bed. We tumble onto the mattress, a tangle of heated limbs and urgent kisses. His shirt disappears, then his pants, until there's nothing between us but skin.

I let my hands roam his body, relearning every hard plane and defined ridge. He's changed over the years, more muscle, more scars, but he's still Griffin. Still the man who can set my blood on fire with a single touch.

He settles between my thighs, his hardness pressing against my core. I moan, arching up to meet him, desperate for more contact, more friction. He rocks his hips, teasing me with shallow thrusts that make me whimper.

"Please, Griff," I pant, nails digging into his shoulders. "I need you."

“God, you’re gorgeous,” he murmurs.

He claims my mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing my cries as he enters me in one deep stroke. I gasp at the sudden fullness, my body stretching to accommodate him. He stills, giving me a moment to adjust, our ragged breaths mingle in the charged air between us.

Then he starts to move, slow at first, almost reverently. Like he's savoring every slide of our joined bodies. But soon the tempo builds, his thrusts become harder, faster, more demanding. I meet him every step of the way, as my hips rise up to take him deeper.

The world narrows to this moment, the slap of flesh against flesh, the broken moans and grunts, the coiling pressure building at the base of my spine. I'm lost to it, lost to him, my mind blissfully blank of anything but pleasure.

His hand slips between us, his fingers find my clit and start rubbing in tight circles. I cry out, my back bowing off the bed as the sensations overwhelm me. He keeps up his relentless pace, driving into me over and over again, pushing me closer to the edge.

His thrusts become erratic, his fingers pressing harder against my clit as he chases his own release. I writhe beneath him, teetering on the precipice, my thighs shaking with the effort to hold back.

"That's it, baby," he rasps against my ear. "Let go for me. I want to feel you come on my cock."

His filthy words are my undoing. I shatter with a hoarse cry, my walls clenching around him as ecstasy crashes over me in relentless waves.

“Oh, Sierra. Fuck,” he mumbles out with a slew of other curses. He follows me over the edge with a guttural groan, spilling himself deep inside me, his hips jerking with the force of his own climax.

We collapse together, our sweat slicked bodies heaving as we try to catch our breath. He presses his forehead to mine, eyes closed, savoring the aftershocks that ripple through us both. I run my fingers through his damp hair, my heart still racing in my chest.

For a long moment, we just lie there, tangled up in each other, the rest of the world fading away. No past, no complications, just this; two people finding solace in each other, even if only for a stolen moment.

But reality has a way of creeping back in, seeping through the cracks of our fragile bubble. Guilt starts to twist in my gut as the haze of lust dissipates.

Shit. What have I done? What have we done?

I shift beneath him, suddenly needing space, wanting some distance. He senses the change in me and rolls to the side, allowing me to sit up. I clutch the sheet to my chest, feeling exposed in more ways than one.

"Sierra..." he starts, reaching for me, but I flinch away from his touch. Hurt flashes across his face before he can hide it. "Talk to me. Please."

I shake my head, not meeting his eyes. "This was a mistake, Griffin. We shouldn't have... I shouldn't have let this happen."

He sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. "It wasn't a mistake. You wanted it as much as I did. You can't deny that."

"It doesn't matter what I wanted in the moment," I whisper, my voice cracking. "It doesn't change anything. We can't... I can't do this again."

"Why not?" he demands, sitting up to face me fully. "Why can't we try to fix this? Fix us? I still lo-"

"Don't," I cut him off harshly, holding up a hand. "Don't say it. You can't... We can't go back, Griffin. Too much has happened. Too much has changed."

"The only thing that's changed is you shutting me out!" he snaps, frustration bleeding into his tone. "You're so damn determined to punish yourself that you won't even consider the possibility of moving forward. Of being happy again."

“I need—I need to go to bed.”

I scramble out of his bed, clutching the sheet around me as I back away from Griffin. My heart is pounding, a sense of panic is rising in my throat as the reality of what we've just done crashes over me.

And I hate how good it felt.

"Sierra, wait," Griffin says, his voice softer now. He reaches for me again, but I pull away.

"I can't do this," I whisper, shaking my head. "I'm sorry, not right now.”

I grab my discarded towel from the floor and flee the room before he can say anything else. My legs are shaky as I stumble down the hallway, clutching the towel around me, my mind reeling. What have I done?

I hear the front door open as Cody and Wyatt come back in.

I stumble back to my room, my mind reeling and my body still tingling from Griffin's touch. As soon as I'm inside, I lock the door and slide down to the floor, burying my face in my hands.

What have we done?

The guilt crashes over me in waves, threatening to drown me. Not just guilt over sleeping with Griffin, but guilt over Wyatt and Cody too. The kisses we shared, the way I'd fantasized about them both. And now this...

I'm such a mess. How did I let things spiral so out of control?

My legs feel weak, like they could give out at any moment, and I barely make it to the bed before collapsing onto it, my damp towel bunching awkwardly beneath me. My body sinks into the mattress, the exhaustion from the day hitting me like a wave.

I can’t do this. I can’t sort through these feelings—the anger, the attraction, the pain of everything that’s been buried between us. I can’t keep reliving the past, keep pretending that seeing him again doesn’t affect me the way it does.

Tears collect in the corner of my eyes then fall silently. I cry for the girl I used to be, for the life I thought I'd have. I cry for Anna, for the gaping hole her absence left in all our lives. I cry for Griffin, for Wyatt, for Cody and for the mess I've made of everything.

After all these years, after everything that's happened between us, I let myself get caught up in the moment, and now...now I don't know what to do.

My mind races, replaying every touch, every kiss. The way his hands felt on my skin, how perfectly our bodies still fit together. For those brief, blissful moments, it was like no time had passed at all. It felt like that when I kissed any of them.

Every time I close my eyes, I see flashes of Griffin's heated gaze, and feel the ghost of his touch on my skin. But then Wyatt's face swims into view, followed by Cody's, and the guilt twists my stomach into knots.

I've let myself get swept up in old feelings and new desires, crossing lines I swore I never would. And now it was too late to take anything back.

Eventually, the darkness closes in and sleep finds me.

The exhaustion of everything weighing me down like a stone sinking into the ocean. But it isn’t long before the quiet turns into something else, something far more sinister. I’m not resting—I’m remembering.

The cold bite of the air is the first thing I feel. The wind is howling, just like it is now, but I’m not in the lodge anymore. I’m in a car. Her car.

Anna is beside me, her laughter filling the small space as we drive down the winding road, the headlights cutting through the swirling snow. I can feel the warmth of her presence, the familiar sound of her voice as she talks about her plans for the future, about Griffin, and the life she was building with him.

I laugh along with her, but there’s a weight in my chest, something I can’t name, something that feels off. The road ahead stretches endlessly, the snow falling faster, heavier, until it’s almost impossible to see. I wonder if we should pull over, but Anna doesn’t seem worried so I don’t say anything. She’s still smiling, still chatting like we have all the time in the world.

And then, the flash. Headlights coming at us from the opposite direction. Too fast. Too close.

“Anna—” I try to scream, but the sound is ripped from my throat as the car swerves. The tires screech against the icy road, and everything tilts. My heart pounds, panic rising like a tidal wave, and I grab the wheel, trying to steady it, to take control.

But it’s too late. The car spins out of control, and all I can see is the blur of snow, blinding headlights, and then the sickening sound of crunching metal as we slam into something solid.

Everything stops.

I’m frozen in place, my chest heaving with ragged breaths. I turn to Anna, her name on my lips, but she’s not laughing anymore. She’s slumped in her seat, her head turned toward me, her eyes open but empty.

“Anna!” I scream, shaking her, but she doesn’t move. The cold seeps into the car, into my bones, and I can’t breathe, I can’t think. All I can do is stare at her, at the lifeless body of my best friend, the girl who was supposed to have a whole future ahead of her.

My heart shatters, the guilt crashing over me like a wave. It should have been me.

I can’t save her. I can’t stop the nightmare from unfolding, the memory I’ve buried so deep, clawing its way back to the surface, suffocating me.

It’s my fault.

The world tilts again, the dream warping, and I’m back in the car, back in the moment before it all went wrong. But this time, I’m screaming. I’m screaming Anna’s name, begging her to stop, to slow down, to change the outcome before it’s too late. But she doesn’t hear me. She’s gone before I can even reach her.

I bolt upright in bed, my chest heaving, my breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps. The room is too dark, too quiet, and my skin is slick with sweat, the nightmare clinging to me like a second skin.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.”

I barely register Cody’s voice before I feel his hand on my shoulder, warm and grounding, pulling me back from the edge. My vision is blurry, my mind is still tangled in the nightmare, but his presence cuts through the fog, and the panic, enough to make me breathe.

“Cody?” My voice is shaky, broken, and I can’t stop the tears that spill down my cheeks. My whole body is trembling, the weight of the dream—the weight of the guilt —still crushing me.

He moves closer, sitting beside me on the bed, his hand firm but gentle as he rubs soothing circles on my back. “You’re safe. It was just a dream.”

I shake my head, the tears falling harder now. “It wasn’t just a dream,” I whisper, my voice thick with emotion. “It was her —Anna. The accident...”

Cody stills beside me, but he doesn’t pull away. He waits, his eyes searching mine, and something in his expression—something patient, and understanding—makes me crack open in a way I’ve never allowed myself to before.

“I was with her, Cody,” I choke out, my voice breaking. “I was right there —and I couldn’t save her. I couldn’t stop it. She was my best friend, and I just... watched her die.”

He doesn’t say anything, but his hand on my back stills, his breath hitching like he’s processing what I’ve said. I can’t look at him, can’t meet his eyes, because I know what he’ll see. All the guilt, all the shame I’ve been carrying for years, buried deep inside me like a wound that never healed.

“I should’ve done something,” I whisper, my throat raw. “I should’ve been the one... not her. It should’ve been me .”

Cody’s hand tightens on my shoulder, and I feel him shift closer, his body warm and solid beside mine. He pulls the quilt up around me, covering the fact that I’m naked, but it’s dark and I don’t care right now. I just don’t want to be alone.

“Sierra,” he says softly, his voice low and steady, “it wasn’t your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

But the words don’t penetrate the thick wall of guilt I’ve built around myself. “You don’t understand,” I say, my voice cracking. “I keep thinking... if I’d just said something, if I’d just told her to slow down, or if I’d been paying more attention—maybe she’d still be alive.”

“Sierra, you can’t keep carrying this on your own. What happened to Anna... it wasn’t on you. It wasn’t something you could’ve controlled.”

The tears keep falling, but something in his voice—something gentle, something real—makes me look up, and finally meet his eyes. There’s no judgment there, no pity, just understanding. And in that moment, I realize I’ve been holding onto this guilt for so long, I don’t even know how to let it go.

“I miss her,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. “I miss her so much.”

Cody’s face softens, his hand moves up to cup my cheek, brushing away the tears that keep falling. “I know you do. And it’s okay to miss her. We all miss her, but look, she’s gone and you’re still here. You can’t stay stuck in the past.”

"I'm just so tired," I whisper.

Cody's thumb strokes my cheek, wiping away the tears that continue to fall. "We're here. I'm here. You still have a full life to live Sierra, and you sure as hell don’t need to do it all alone.”

We sit like that for a long time. He doesn't say much, just holds me, his presence a silent reassurance that I'm not alone.

"I'm sorry," I mumble, suddenly self-conscious. "I didn't mean to unload all of this on you."

Cody shakes his head, his hand still resting on my shoulder. "Don't apologize. I'm glad you told me. I want to be here for you, Sierra. In whatever way you need."

Something in his voice, in the intensity of his gaze, makes my heart skip a beat. I'm suddenly very aware of how close we are, of the heat of his body seeping into mine. Memories of our kiss under the mistletoe flash through my mind, and I feel a flush creep up my neck.

I clear my throat, looking away. "Thank you, Cody. For listening. For being here."

He squeezes my shoulder gently before dropping his hand. "Anytime. I mean it. Hope you didn’t mind me running into your room again, this time though I heard screaming.”

“Yeah. I haven’t had a dream like that in a long time.”

An awkward silence stretches between us, the air suddenly thick with unspoken things. I fidget with the edge of the blanket, my mind a jumble of emotions I'm not yet ready to examine too closely.

Cody seems to sense my discomfort. He stands up, offering me a small smile. "You should try to get some more sleep. It's still early."

“Stay a little longer?”

“I can stay as long as you need me to.”

Morning light filters through the window, soft and golden, casting a warm glow across the room. I blink groggily, pulling myself from the heaviness of sleep. The bed feels too big, too cold, and for a moment, I lie there, listening to the quiet of the lodge.

It should feel peaceful but it doesn’t.

The events of last night press down on me, thick and tangled, leaving a tightness in my chest that refuses to ease. I run a hand through my hair, sighing as I remember everything—Cody comforting me in the dark, me breaking down in his arms, and the dream... Anna.

The memory of it flickers behind my eyes like a cruel ghost, dredging up everything I’ve tried to bury for years. The guilt, the grief, the weight of surviving when she didn’t. My best friend. And then there’s Cody... Wyatt... Griffin.

The thought of facing all of them now makes my stomach twist with nerves. I kissed Cody. I kissed Wyatt. And Griffin?

God. I don’t even want to think about him right now.

I sit up slowly, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. I wrap my arms around myself, trying to fight off the chill that’s not just from the winter air.

What am I supposed to say to them now?

With a sigh, I grab an old sweater from the chair and pull it over my head and slip into sweats. I run my fingers through my hair, hoping I don’t look as much of a mess as I feel, and make my way downstairs, following the sound of quiet voices.

As I step into the kitchen, I see all three of them standing around the counter, talking in low voices like everything’s completely normal. Like last night hadn’t changed everything.

But for me, it did. And now, I have no idea how to act around them.

Cody is the first to notice me, his eyes catch mine, and for a second, I can see the concern is still there, the quiet understanding from the night before.

Did they all talk about it?

I imagine them drinking coffee, talking about how I kissed them all and had a mental breakdown in the middle of the night.

Cody gives me a soft smile, easy and casual, like he’s trying to make this feel normal. “Morning.”

“Morning.”

Wyatt glances at me, his dark eyes unreadable as he leans back against the counter, arms crossed. There’s something in his gaze that sends a shiver through me, but he doesn’t say anything, just watches me with that steady intensity that’s always felt a little unnerving.

And then there’s Griffin.

He stands a little farther back, his broad shoulders filling the space between the fridge and the counter. His eyes lock on mine, that same guarded look he’s been wearing since the day I walked back into Silver Ridge. There’s something more behind his gaze, though, something unspoken that makes the air feel heavier. I shift, trying to avoid his stare, but it lingers, following me as I move toward the coffee pot.

They’ve all got on their work clothes and old flannels like it’s their uniform or something.

I need something to do with my hands, something else to focus on other than the three of them standing there, waiting for me to speak. “Coffee?” I ask, my voice too casual, as I walk over to the coffee maker.

“Already made some,” Cody says, his voice light but knowing.

I sit down at the kitchen table, wrapping my hands around the warm mug, but my mind is racing in a jumble of thoughts. What would happen if I voiced them out loud?

So I fucked Griffin last night, and also almost fucked Wyatt and Cody, both of whom I’ve shared passionate kisses with…how do we all feel about this? Do you want to kick me out now?

I glance at Wyatt, then at Cody, and finally Griffin. He’s still watching me, still waiting for something—what, I don’t know. An apology? An explanation? Maybe he’s waiting for me to break first.

But I’m not ready to give him that.

“Any power updates?” I ask again.

“You’re still stuck here, cupcake,” Wyatt says. “Sorry.”

How am I going to survive?