The Winter Games

by Sharp, Dr. Rebecca

  “Where did you get your couch?” I asked as he walked into the spare room to unpack his guitar and speakers.

  He looked up at me as I stood in the doorway.

  “My sister, Meghan, owns a furniture store out in Carmel. Every once in a while, she sends me stuff she says she can’t sell.”

  “She couldn’t sell that?” I arched an eyebrow, looking back over my shoulder at the chic modern sofa that sat in the middle of the room.

  He sent me a half smile that I felt all the way down to my toes. Was I stalling?

  “That’s what she said.” He grunted, lifting the largest speaker out of its bag. “I have a feeling that it was more of a housewarming gift she knew I wouldn’t accept if I knew what it cost.”

  I hummed in understanding. “Will you see her over Christmas?”

  It was a bad question. It was the kind of question Jac Blanchard didn’t ask because the Ice Princess didn’t care. She didn’t care about someone else’s family or ties or holidays or home. She couldn’t.

  “Sort of.”

  I turned, realizing he’d gone into the spare bedroom on the far side of his living room to unload his equipment. Looking down, I grabbed the nearest bag—a black, padded case—and carried it over to help.

  I stopped short when Kyle met me in the doorway, his disapproving glare chiding me as he took the weighty bag from my arms.

  “What does that mean?” I tried to change his focus.

  “My parents are Orthodox Catholics, so they don’t celebrate Christmas until the beginning of January,” he explained as he made quick work of unloading the rest of his equipment. “So, I’ll be here for Christmas, but we’ll go see them in Montana and celebrate after the New Year.”

  “We?” I choked.

  He looked at me, his head tipping as a hot, possessive look flashed in his gaze. “My sister and me.”

  “Oh.” I gulped and nodded quickly. Duh, Jac. Of course, he wasn’t talking about you. Christ…

  It was only embarrassment that blotted out the cramp in my chest where my heart was hoping he’d been about to insist on taking me with him. To meet his parents.

  After one night.

  After I told him I had no interest in more.

  I bit back a groan and turned from the room. I was the Queen of the Mountain and the newly-elected president of complete contradictions.

  “Is your family coming out for the holiday?”

  “No.” I shook my head, my fingers trailing along the table in the kitchen as I kept walking away. “I’ll go see my parents when the competition is over.”

  “You have siblings?” His voice followed me.

  He followed me.

  Pain, sharp and instant ripped through my chest. “No,” I said tightly and faced him and the painful memory head-on. “Marissa and her brother were the closest I had to siblings.”

  “What’s that for?” he asked, coming to stand in front of me.

  “What?”

  “The look on your face,” he said, a large warm hand cupped my cheek. I felt every inch of it, right down to the calloused fingertips that came from plucking the strings on his guitar. I felt every cell on the hands that made me feel warm and safe and cherished in ways I knew could kill me if I found out they were false. Again. “What are you thinking about? What hurts?”

  “Nothing.” I turned away again and moved toward the couch.

  I heard him growl, his footsteps coming up quickly behind my retreating form.

  “What are you running from?” he demanded, reaching for me and turning me to face him.

  I should’ve fought him, but I was tired of pushing him away.

  Maybe I could have more than one night with him… for just a little while…

  “What everyone runs from,” I seethed, stepping into him and pressing myself flush against his interrogating hardness. “Anything that can destroy you.”

  His head dipped down and my lips tingled in anticipation, but his mouth didn’t come for mine.

  “Well, that’s not me, Jac,” he said softly, instead pressing a kiss to my forehead. “I’m not here to destroy you.” Another kiss on the side of my cheekbone this time. “I’m not here to hurt you.” A gentle brush of his lips on the tip of my nose. “I’m just here for you.”

  Finally, his lips pressed to mine with the sweetest, yet most soul-claiming firmness that made me sag against him.

  I’m here for you.

  He didn’t say it like he’d come to claim me, to stake his rights to my body, my mind, and my fame. He said ‘I’m here for you’ like he was here for me to use, to take, to reach for or push away, to lean on or to love… he said it like he was here for any piece of me I was willing to share.

  And there were definitely some pieces I wanted to share. Again.

  The kiss deepened, my tongue giving up the fight in favor of the warmth and solace of his steady desire. In seconds, I’d gone from running to wrapped around him, my mouth slanting hungrily against his because I wanted more of whatever he was doing to me. I wanted to feel more of this.

  He caressed my mouth as though he could coax my secrets out through my kiss. As though his tongue could soothe the raw hurt I locked away.

  Suddenly, we were moving. I was flying.

  My legs instinctively and greedily wrapped around his waist and my hips began to grind against the hard ridge of his cock. He carried me into the bedroom and I moaned into his mouth. Every stroke of his tongue I felt all the way down to my core, small explosions of pleasure rippling through my body, begging for more.

  I rolled my hips, positioning the thick length of his cock to rub against my clit.

  Too many clothes. Too many barriers.

  I felt my back hit the bed a second before his mouth left mine, biting at my nipples through my tee as his hands worked at the waist of my bottoms. A gasp pulled from my chest as he drew back and yanked me to the edge of the bed, flipping me over to tug my underwear and pants off me, my ass on display.

  “Feet on the floor, ass up, Cinderella.”

  My body thrummed as I did what he instructed while he dropped to his knees behind me. My pussy clenched violently, aching for his mouth.

  “Know how many times I’ve dreamt of your sweetness since that night?” he growled and I let out a loud moan, imagining the view that he had. “Fuck you are so swollen and wet, Jac.”

  I cried out as one finger slid along the seam of my core all the way up to my ass.

  “Anyone ever been in here?”

  “No.” I shivered.

  Evan definitely hadn’t been interested in that, and no one else had stuck around long enough for me to find out.

  “Good,” he said with a raw growl. “Because I want that part of you, too.”

  Before this moment, I would’ve said I wasn’t interested. But his words made every inch of my body feel incomplete unless it had been touched by some part of him.

  “Kyle…” My moan transformed into a strangled cry as his mouth closed over my pussy from behind. I felt his nose buried in the trail to my ass as his tongue jammed inside me.

  There were no walls with him. Not like this.

  My hands twisted in the comforter as I fought to stay standing under the assault of his mouth. I was losing everything when it came to Kyle Masters.

  My body. My sanity… My soul.

  And I couldn’t even blame him. He didn’t force it… he didn’t take it from me… he gave and gave and gave. He gave me everything I’d convinced myself to never want again; he gave so much that all I wanted was to give him everything in return.

  His hand grazed up the back of my thigh to slide in front of his mouth. Firm fingers pulled at my throbbing clit as his tongue continued to jam inside me.

  “You’re dripping for me, Jac. So wet I can’t drink you fast enough.”

  His words coupled with the garbled sensations of his tongue and fingers on me, inside me, working me until I was trembling with need.

  How did I not know that something like
this could exist?

  My back arched in a way that would feel painful tomorrow as I tried to jam myself harder against him. As soon as he sensed my desperation, his free hand gripped my waist and locked me closer to the mouth that was quickly becoming my master.

  His fingers rubbed over my clit as his tongue stroked my insides until I began to quake with the frayed edges of ecstasy.

  When Kyle growled against my clit, pressing his mouth harder against me, my vision went white and then exploded with stars as my orgasm rocked through me. His mouth didn’t leave me even as his free arm wrapped around to hold me steady, my legs finally giving way and sending me into a shuddering mass of limbs, trembling on the bed.

  This was a losing battle, I thought as I slowly floated back down.

  Pulling away from my sex, I felt his uneven breaths against my sensitive skin. He held me tight until I began to move on my own, slowly letting myself drift down to the floor with my back propped against the bed.

  I looked up to catch the small, tight smile that breezed over his face. The person I thought I was would have been offended at the pride he took in making my body lose complete control. Instead, I only felt warmed by the thought of a man who took pride in pleasuring his woman.

  Wait.

  I wasn’t his woman.

  I ducked my head, avoiding his gaze and my thoughts in favor of pleasure-paralyzed silence. I watched him out of half-hooded eyes as he walked into the bathroom and came back with a warm cloth. Bending down with a wince from the strain it put on his erection, I shivered and let out a soft moan when he cupped its warmth between my thighs and cleaned me.

  “Bed time,” he rasped, shooting me a grin before heading back for the bath.

  “W-What?” I stammered, my head jerking to the side as I turned my body to the side, pulling my legs under me. “What do you mean? What about—”

  “Sorry, Cinderella.” His smile grew and even though his eyes ate at me like an animal needing to be fed, he informed me firmly, “You called the shots last time. Tonight, I want to show you what it’s really like to be with Prince Charming.”

  “And how’s that?” I squeaked out as he lifted and set me in his bed.

  His smile melted what was left of my resolve. “That’s when the only thing a man wants is to please his princess and hold her as she falls asleep.”

  I shifted against the mattress, uncomfortable with how impossibly sweet… yet demanding he was. I knew how to handle lust and want. It was natural and I was prepared for it. But I wasn’t prepared for a man like Kyle Masters.

  A man who both created an ache so powerful and was the only one able to soothe it.

  A man who treated my frozen façade as though it were glass to see through rather than ice to avoid.

  Kyle Masters was a man who wasn’t afraid of the cold. And I couldn’t help but be drawn to his unwavering warmth.

  “But that’s not what you want,” I pushed out of habit, nodding to his pants. “I can see what you want and I want it, too.”

  I wanted to make him helpless with pleasure. I wanted to watch his body crumble for me—because of me. His Princess.

  He walked back in front of me, bent over and took my chin between his fingers, lifting my face so I had no choice but to look into his eyes.

  “Don’t mistake me. I want to be buried so deep in your tight pussy, Jac, that I forget what it’s like to be out. But there’s a difference between wanting and needing, Princess, and I can see what you need and I need that, too.”

  His decided lips covered my shocked ones before adding, “Now get in bed before your trainer murders me and you in the morning. I’ll be in in a few. Just gotta put away the rest of my gear.”

  He calmly strolled out of the room like he wasn’t suffering a worse case of blue-balls than if he’d left his nuts outside in the snow, and my heart tumbled faster in an avalanche of emotions that he’d just unleashed.

  No one had ever done that for me before, especially not Evan. No, Evan hated giving oral. And, after my first gold in the Olympics, he’d stopped even reciprocating after asking me for head. Of course, I didn’t question. Between the gym and the mountain, I felt like I owed it to him for all the time I was absent.

  I shook my head, heading for the bathroom to pee and rub some toothpaste over my teeth.

  It was sad to think the only relationship I had to compare any of this to was the one that had ruined me—the one that had built up my love and comfort and trust to the highest possible peak before the mountain was ripped out from underneath me and I was sent crashing to… I didn’t even know where. I was still crashing…

  “Hope you know I sleep naked!” I yelled as I climbed in between the sheets.

  I heard his bark of laughter from the other room and I grinned to myself as I sagged into the cool softness. I was bone tired. It was past my bedtime and my body had been put through the wringer. Still, I only drifted right on the shores of sleep until I felt him slide in next to me. My teeth sunk into my lip to hold back a moan as he immediately reached for me and tugged my back to his front, throwing a possessive arm over my hip to land his hand on my stomach. I could still feel the hard length of him against my ass so I rubbed it gently.

  He grunted hoarsely. “Wiggle all you want, Jac. Only thing in the whole world I want to do right now is hold you and pass the fuck out.”

  My heart did that thing again where it jumped and stuttered in my chest. I smiled softly as I nestled deeper into his embrace and closed my eyes.

  Maybe letting Prince Charming in… just a little bit… wouldn’t be so bad…

  “SAY YOU’LL GO TO DINNER with me,” I rasped, holding Jac sandwiched between my body and the side of my truck. “Any night. Any time. Anywhere.”

  I didn’t want to beg, but I was.

  We’d woken up at the crack of dawn so that I could finally take her back to Marissa’s apartment before she had to meet her trainer. The ride was silent, both of us wondering where things went from here. I wanted her to decide. I wanted her to move this at her own pace. But I also wanted her too much to not reach for her hand as I drove and to not get out of the car to give her a proper fucking kiss before I had to watch her walk away one more time.

  And that was the moment when I realized I couldn’t watch her walk away. I could be kind and considerate and gentlemanly to this point, the point where she’d finally let me in. But if she thought I’d just be able to let go, she was wrong.

  If she thought she’d be able to let go, she was wrong, too.

  She came to my show. She slept in my bed. I woke up next to Cinderella. If that wasn’t a fairytale worth fighting for, I didn’t know what was.

  I tasted her hesitation in the quiver of her bottom lip. I smelled the way uncertainty mingled with a habit of holding back in the air between us. Growling, I kissed her again, not because I wanted her submission but because I wanted her to feel safe saying yes.

  And like it was the hardest fight she’d ever fought, the single syllable of acceptance slipped from her moist, reddened lips with breathless release—in defeat or victory I wasn’t quite sure and I didn’t think she was either.

  “Okay.”

  My body surged. “What day?”

  “Tuesday.” Her brow scrunched. “M-maybe I shouldn’t. The competition starts on Sunday, Saturday is qualifying—”

  “Tuesday.” My voice was unflinching. “There’s a burger place, Blacks and Blues, at the Snowmass resort. We can just grab something there when you are done with your training so you don’t have to go anywhere or worry about anything crazy, and then I’ll bring you right home well before your skis turn back into a pumpkin.”

  I’d never felt like this before, I realized as I pulled up and parked close to the ski patrol base at the bottom of the mountain, this wanting someone I could only have little bits and pieces of. If that.

  Grabbing my gear out of the back, my feet crunched over the packed snow. I was a little early to my shift because my board needed a good waxing. As
I expected, the ski patrol building was mostly empty as everyone was still out roaming the mountain for another forty-five minutes before the afternoon shift ended.

  Leaving my stuff in my locker, I slung my board bag over my shoulder and headed down the cobbled walkway around back of the resort. Most people got their boards waxed at the rental and repair shop that sat with a giant red awning facing the main gondolas to the summit.

  Us locals used to go to a place in town, but a few months ago, because of the success of his custom boards, Emmett ‘King’ Jameson opened up a board shop on the other side of the main building. What strings he’d pulled and what kind of cash he put down to make that happen… well, I was impressed.

  King Boards was marked by a wide snowboard used as a sign, painted black with a gold, hand-painted crown and the words, ‘King’ and ‘Boards’ on either side of it. It wasn’t red or flashy, and there weren’t a ton of signs or things to draw people in, but there was always a ton of people inside. Snowmass’ best kept secret.

  The shop smelled like carved wood and fresh mountain air with just a hint of exclusivity. The walls were covered with various styles and sizes of snowboards for sale, priced comparably to the big-name brands. About halfway down, there was a countertop that mirrored along the wall to the right all the way to the end of the shop. It served both as checkout, closer to the front, and as the waxing and sharpening station toward the back.

  Along the very back wall was mounted three boards in giant clear cases. Custom work that Emmett had done for specific riders. There were rumors who the boards belonged to. Some said one was his. Others thought one belonged to Wyatt Olsen, arguably the best, now-retired, snowboarder in the world.

  I was pretty positive the bottom one at least belonged to Chance Ryder from a photo Jessa had shown me of her and him up in Canada.

  It was those custom boards that could set you back a pretty penny, especially if you wanted them designed by Ally Ryder soon-to-be-Jameson. King and his fiancée were getting married next year as soon as she was finished with school.

  It was rare to find the owner of the shop inside. Dealing with people wasn’t his forte. And with a four-month backlog of orders, he didn’t have time to be here.