Snowed in for Christmas

by Adams, Noelle

  “Sure. That’s better than nothing.”

  She ran back to get him one and then hurried to get under the covers.

  “You’re shivering again,” Scott said, opening one of the bottles and handing it to her before he opened the other for himself.

  “It’s cold in the other room. But it stopped snowing and the sun is out. Hopefully we’ll get a lot of melting.”

  “If it warms up enough, we probably will. And eventually they’ll come by with snowplows.”

  “Chuck and Ed are really good about clearing the roads on Holiday Acres. They’ll probably get to us by the afternoon. Even if the county roads aren’t cleared yet, we’ll be able to get out of this cottage.”

  “That’s good.”

  She looked over to check his expression but couldn’t read anything on his face. He looked ridiculously sexy with his rumpled hair, heavy-lidded eyes, and a day’s worth of beard.

  But she wasn’t supposed to be thinking about that.

  They drank their iced coffee in silence for a few minutes. Olivia was feeling warmer, more awake, and more relaxed at the same time.

  Then Scott said into the silence, “Fifty-six.”

  She blinked. “What?”

  “Fifty-six. My number. It’s fifty-six.”

  Her eyes widened. “Fifty-six?”

  “Yes. That’s what I said.” He wasn’t meeting her eyes.

  “You’ve slept with fifty-six women? Fifty-six?”

  “Yes. I counted them up. I remembered them all.” His eyes were utterly serious.

  Bizarrely, she was touched by the admission, by the sobriety with which he was telling her. “You remember all of them?”

  “Yes.” His face twisted briefly. “I can’t remember all the names, but I remember their faces, what they were like.”

  “How long did it take you to count them all?”

  “A couple of hours.”

  “You did it in the middle of the night?”

  “Yes.”

  She put down her coffee and rolled over to face him. “So you’ve slept with fifty-six women?”

  “Yes. Over ten years. Fifty-six women over ten years. Do the math. It’s not as many as you’re thinking.”

  She did do the mental math, and he was absolutely right. If they were evenly spaced, he’d only slept with five or six women a year.

  “I guess so,” she said slowly. “You go out with different women so often I guess I assumed... it was a lot more.”

  “It’s not. Most of the women I go out with I don’t go to bed with.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “I know you didn’t.”

  She was breathing faster than she should be. She had no idea why. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to... judge you like that.”

  “It’s fine. I’ve done a lot that deserves judgment. I’ve tried not to be an asshole, but I’ve not always been great with women. You were right about a lot of things. Maybe fifty-six women sounds like a lot. Maybe it is. But, except for one, I only slept with them once or twice. I guarantee anyone who’s been in a real relationship for more than a few months has had more sex than I have in their life.”

  She took a deep breath to try to slow down her heartbeat. It didn’t work. “I’ve slept with five different guys.”

  “Five?”

  “Yeah.”

  “But you dated Mike French for almost a year didn’t you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And Tom Wilson for six months.”

  “Yeah. Something like that.” She wondered how he remembered the length of her two longer relationships, but she didn’t have the time to think it through.

  “You had sex with them at least once a week on average?”

  “Yeah. At least. Probably more.”

  “Then you’ve had more sex than I have.”

  It was such a new and unexpected thought that she had trouble getting her mind around it. She wasn’t sure why it seemed to change things for her, but it did.

  “Who was number five?” Scott asked in a different voice.

  “Five? Of the guys, you mean? Tom was. Last year.”

  “No, I mean other than Tom and Mike. And I’m assuming Rick from high school and that football player in college. Who was number five?”

  She told herself it wasn’t surprising that he knew four of the guys she’d slept with since they were the four she’d had relationships with that lasted more than three months. But she still found it unsettling that he’d immediately known who four of them were.

  But he didn’t know number five.

  Scott’s amber eyes were deep and sober as he gazed at her. “You don’t want to tell me?”

  “It was Sammy. Sammy Shelton. From high school.” She swallowed hard after she’d blurted out the words.

  Scott lifted his head from the pillow and reached over to put down his empty iced coffee bottle. “Sammy?”

  “Yeah. We went out for a few months on and off when I was sixteen.”

  “I knew that, but I didn’t know... You had sex with him?”

  “Yeah.” She bit her bottom lip and then released it. “He was my first.”

  “Shit.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because he was a real asshole. He’d be a terrible first.”

  She sighed and admitted, “He wasn’t as terrible as you might be thinking, but he wasn’t great.”

  “What happened?”

  “Nothing really. We went out several times, and I thought I liked him. What did I know? I was sixteen, and he was a senior and captain of the football team. If he liked me, then I wouldn’t dream of not liking him back. At first we just kissed, but then he started to get more handsy. I knew what he wanted, and I wanted it too. I did. He didn’t force me or even really pressure me. I knew what I was doing.” She shook her head and closed her eyes for a minute. “It just wasn’t what I thought it would be.”

  “Shit.”

  When Olivia opened her eyes, Scott was scowling at an empty spot in the air. “It was very uncomfortable for me, and Sammy didn’t know how to make it better.”

  “I bet he didn’t even try.”

  “He didn’t try very hard. Then afterward he decided I wasn’t good enough to bother with a second time. His exact words were...” She stopped, wondering if she should be telling Scott this.

  She’d never told anyone. Not even her sisters.

  “What did he say?” There was an edge to Scott’s voice she didn’t recognize.

  “He said I was pretty but kind of immature. And I didn’t know how to make a guy feel really good.” Her voice broke with a pain that was years old now. “Of course I didn’t know. I was sixteen and had never done it before.”

  Scott made a growling sound. “That asshole. The next time I see him around—”

  “You’ll do absolutely nothing! It’s private, Scott. It’s over. I’m a grown-up now. A lot of people don’t have it really good for their first time.”

  She watched as the angry tension finally relaxed on his face.

  “I might not have always been great with women, but I’ve never been like that. I hope you don’t think I’ve—”

  “I know you haven’t, Scott. I know you’d never be like that. Even when I hated you, I never thought you’d... I know you’re not like that.”

  To her surprise, his eyes glinted with a newly awakened humor. “So you don’t hate me now?”

  She gave an exhale of laughter. “I don’t know if I’d go that far.”

  “Okay.”

  She reached over to finish off her iced coffee, and then she rolled over to face him again. “So what was your first time like?”

  Something happened to his face. She saw it.

  Stiffening in anxiety, she said, “Scott? What’s the matter? Is there something bad about your first time?”

  “No. No, of course not. It was fine. It was... fine.”

  “Then who was it?” She thought back to the overly friendly girl with braces that
Scott had taken to the prom. “Heather? From high school?”

  “No. Not Heather. I didn’t have sex until I’d already graduated. I told you. I didn’t know what I was doing with girls. I got a late start.”

  She frowned, trying to put pieces together. “So who was it then? Did it happen that summer? That summer you... you changed?”

  His expression flickered again, and she knew the answer to her question.

  She needed to know now. She needed to.

  “Who was it, Scott?”

  He looked at her. Didn’t answer.

  “You’re really not going to tell me, after I told you?”

  He cleared his throat and shifted position slightly. “I was helping out on the Lawsons’ farm that summer. To make some extra money for college.”

  “Oh yeah. I remember that. That was after Mr. Lawson died, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes. It was just her. Jane.”

  Olivia froze. She didn’t move—couldn’t move—for several seconds.

  “She...” Scott cleared his throat again. “She liked me.”

  “She liked you!” Olivia sat up as the words broke out. “She liked you! You’re saying it was her? Jane Lawson was your first?”

  Scott nodded, his expression stiff, but his eyes full of conflicted emotion.

  “How old was she then?”

  “I don’t know. Late thirties.”

  “Late thirties? She was in her late thirties, and you were seventeen? And she had sex with you?”

  Scott cleared his throat again. “It wasn’t like you’re making it sound. I wanted to. I was seventeen and still a virgin. Of course I wanted to.”

  “But the fact that you were a virgin makes it worse. She was totally in control. You worked for her. You were seventeen!” She was so outraged she was shaking with it. She’d seen Jane Lawson around town quite a bit growing up, although the woman had moved out west several years ago. There was no possible way she could hide her indignation, even though her response was obviously making Scott uncomfortable.

  “I was old enough to make a decision about sex.”

  “Maybe you were. But that doesn’t make it right. Did you... did you come on to her or something?”

  “No. Of course not. I can’t possibly overstate how clueless I was with women. I never would have done anything. She came on to me.”

  “Oh my God, Scott. Oh my God.”

  He sat up too, looking frustrated now as well as uncomfortable. “Stop making it sound so bad. She didn’t force me. She didn’t do anything even close to forcing me.”

  “I’m not saying she forced you. It doesn’t have to be forced to still be... really wrong. Did it just happen once?”

  He shook his head. “All summer.”

  “Oh my God, Scott.”

  “Stop saying that. It wasn’t bad like you’re making it sound. I... liked it. I learned a lot. I was happy to learn a lot. It was just...”

  “Sex? Is that what you’re going to say? It was just sex?” She was still shaking a little with the intensity of her feelings.

  “It was. Just sex.”

  “You were a shy seventeen-year-old virgin, and she was your boss. She took advantage of you. You do see that, don’t you? Just because you were a boy and not a girl doesn’t make it all right.”

  “Sure, I see that. I get it. I learned later that she did it almost every summer—with a different guy, I mean. But I’m telling you that it wasn’t traumatic for me.”

  “I believe you. It doesn’t have to be traumatic to still be really wrong.”

  He stared at her, looking as breathless and emotional as she felt.

  “And you’re telling me that what happened—that it happened that way—didn’t have any effect on you? You, who just told me he’s slept with fifty-six women but none of them more than once or twice. Except her, I assume.”

  “Except her.”

  They were both sitting up on the bed, the covers down around their laps. She reached over to stroke his bristly jaw with her fingertips. “She used you, Scott. It wasn’t right.”

  Something seemed to be shuddering inside him. Something that was making him shake just slightly but that he wouldn’t let loose. He sat there, perfectly still, letting her stroke his face.

  She felt it shuddering in her too.

  “I know it wasn’t right,” he whispered at last. “I know.”

  “It doesn’t have to be like that.”

  “What doesn’t?”

  “Sex. It doesn’t have to be like that. It can be real. It can be... giving. Not taking.”

  “I know it can.”

  “But you’ve never really experienced it?”

  “I’ve... tried.”

  She couldn’t stand it. She simply couldn’t stand it. The man who’d held her last night, who’d talked to her, who’d been so worried that he’d hurt her feelings, wasn’t a man who should have tried fifty-six times to find something real in sex and never actually found it.

  She couldn’t let it remain that way.

  She had to change it.

  She had to fix it.

  She wanted to more than she’d ever wanted anything.

  She leaned forward to kiss him softly on the lips.

  His mouth clung to hers, and his hand rose up to tangle in her hair. “Olivia,” he breathed.

  She felt him pulling back, so she waited until she heard him murmur, “Yes. Please.” Then she moved forward, brushing her lips against his even more.

  “Olivia, don’t do this because you feel sorry for me,” he murmured, his mouth still clinging to hers.

  “I’m not. I don’t feel sorry for you. I want to do this.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. Really. More than anything.” She did withdraw then, enough to look him in the eyes. “Don’t you?”

  Something burst into life in his eyes. She saw it happen. He took her head in both his hands. “Yes,” he said thickly, just before he kissed her again. “I do.”

  Eight

  AS SCOTT WAS KISSING Olivia, both of them sitting up in the bed, he was briefly afraid that his heart would beat its way out of his chest.

  For a moment he believed it might actually happen.

  He’d never felt like this before—not once in his life. Like a presence in his chest had burst open, exploded, and was getting bigger as the seconds passed. Like it would soon be too big to fit inside him.

  And if that wasn’t enough, he’d grown aroused so quickly it almost hurt, his erection tight in his underwear and aching so deeply it would have overwhelmed him had he not been feeling so many other things at the same time.

  He had no time or space to think it through or settle his emotions or even take a full breath. The only thing he was capable of doing was kissing Olivia as much as he could.

  His fingers were tangled in her loose hair, and he was holding her head still so he could press his lips harder against hers. Her tongue was deep in his mouth, doing such delicious things he couldn’t begin to sort through specific moves.

  After a minute, she put her hands on his chest and pushed him backward onto the bed, moving on top of him so she could keep kissing him as he reclined. Then she was all over him, her legs straddling his hips, her breasts brushing against his chest, her hair spilling down over both of them.

  Before he realized what was happening, she was pulling his T-shirt up over his head. He had to release her to let her pull it off his arms, and he moaned helplessly as she kissed her way down his neck, his collarbone, and lower to take his nipple in her mouth.

  He rocked his pelvis up against the weight of her, his erection getting aching, exquisite relief from the pressure. She whimpered and ground down in response. His neck arched up, and he released an embarrassing groan of pleasure.

  This was Olivia Holiday. On top of him in bed. And she was making him feel so good.

  She wanted him.

  No fantasy he’d ever had could possibly equal this.

  “Scott,” she murmured, still mo
uthing her way across his chest. “Did I lose you somewhere?”

  “No! God, no.” He pushed his chest up into her mouth when she flicked his other nipple with her tongue. “I’m here. I’m here all the way.”

  “Good. I like you here.” She rubbed her whole body against him, and he took her bottom in his hands, holding the soft, firm flesh through the stretched fabric of her leggings.

  She lifted her head and smiled down on him, flushed and breathless.

  She was on fire. All her inner shining breaking out in blinding flames.

  For him.

  Him.

  He pulled her down into another deep kiss and didn’t stop kissing her until she pulled away again.

  This time she kissed her way down past his nipples. To his belly. And even lower.

  “Oh fuck, Olivia, you don’t have to do that.” She was pulling down his underwear, and it felt like his erection was straining toward her hands.

  “I want to.”

  “But I wanted to do you.” He sounded foolish, like a boy. But it was true. He wanted to please her. Please her as much as he was capable of.

  “Well, I’m doing you first. Then you can do me if you want. Then maybe we can do some things together.” She was still smiling, still shining for him. The strap of her tank top had slipped off one of her shoulders, and he wanted to bite the gorgeous, graceful curve of bare skin displayed there.

  When he didn’t answer, she paused. “Is that all right?”

  He gave a breathless laugh as she pulled his boxer briefs off his feet. “That’s pretty okay with me.”

  “Good.” She was still beaming as she kissed a line from his belly button down toward his groin.

  He held his breath when she neared his erection, which was thick and hard and folded up toward his stomach.

  She stared down at him for a minute before she took it in both her hands, holding it almost gently.

  He bucked up slightly at the light touch of her fingers and then bucked up again when she stroked him purposefully.

  He was going to embarrass himself. He knew it. He had almost no control at the moment, and every little thing she did was pushing him further toward the edge.

  “Fuck,” he heard himself mutter. “Oh fuck, Olivia.”

  “I haven’t even done anything yet.” She was changing positions, lowering her face toward his groin.