The Winter Games Box Set

by Rebecca Sharp

  It only took the slightest tug of his fingers to bare my breast to him, my nipple pink and begging, jutting up from milky-white skin.

  He didn’t pause this time; I don’t think he could stop himself as his mouth slid up my stomach and captured the aching peak in his mouth. My hands returned to his hair, holding him tight against me as his mouth and hands teased the parts of me that seemed to have a direct line straight to my sex; my thighs pressed against each other as the ache became too much to bear.

  “Wyatt,” I moaned again, not knowing how to say what I wanted. Yet, he heard what I needed.

  He tugged on my nipple with his teeth and I felt the first hint of my impending climax. My stomach quivered as his hand moved over it, his fingers breaching the waistband of my sweats. I inhaled sharply as I felt the first brush of him against my folds.

  “You’re drenched,” he groaned painfully, biting my nipple again before he came for my mouth.

  My hips had a mind of their own as I felt one finger enter me. “So fucking wet, Channing…” Then two fingers, stretching me. I tongue dove into his mouth, trying to pull more from him as I felt the waves of pleasure rolling and begging to crash over me. “I’ll take your hurt away.” He shuddered against me and then pushed a third finger inside of my sex. I gasped. I was small and he was stretching me to the point where I was about to come from the pressure. “You’re like an ocean, gorgeous,” he rasped, “and I’m so fucking thirsty.”

  A second later he was gone from me, my eyes darting open just as he grabbed the edge of my sweats and tugged them down over my hips, baring my core to him. He yanked off his jacket and tossed it onto the other end of the couch. I could see the hard, distinct outline of his erection through his pants. He just stared at me lying bare before him, like he was branding me with his gaze.

  My legs bent, spreading slightly as I tried to reign in the cells of my body that were determined to explode—a subtle invitation to where I needed him. I felt the couch dip underneath his weight as he knelt between my knees. I wasn’t breathing—I knew I wasn’t—but I wasn’t sure I needed to.

  His hands, tanner than my skin, ran slowly up my thighs, my sex clenching in anticipation. His head bent, the soft fabric of his navy sweater brushing on the insides of my legs, forcing them wider to accommodate the breadth of his shoulders.

  “Has anyone ever done this to you?” He growled, his fingers slipping lightly—too lightly—over my folds.

  I was barely coherent, barely able to process his words. Done what? Kissed me? Ate me? Or made me lose all rational sense for the sake of passion? All I knew was that my brain might actually explode if I didn’t feel his mouth on me soon.

  “Channing,” he growled louder, biting into the skin of my inner thigh just enough for me to register the brief pain, “has anyone ever tasted you?”

  Now, I heard the question and immediately gasped, “No. No one.”

  I thought I felt the cool breath from his curse, but then my world evaporated as his mouth covered me. His tongue licked along the length of my slit and my eyes widened in shock and pleasure.

  “So fucking sweet,” he rasped into my sensitive skin just before his lips closed to suck on my clit. I whimpered, holding his head with both my hands as I raised my hips closer to his lips, desperate to get more of this feeling that promised to destroy me. “All fucking mine.”

  I panted his name, feeling my body tightening rapidly towards my release. My eyes were squeezed tight as I pushed myself against his face, shamelessly begging for more. Then his fingers joined the torment of his mouth, brushing along my entrance as he continued to drink from my core.

  I bit my tongue until it bled, acknowledging that Wyatt’s mouth devouring me was the best thing to ever happen to my body since snowboarding.

  “Say it,” he raised his head, staring at me with heady eyes, his lips glistening with my juices.

  “All…” I breathed out. “Y-yours.” His tongue replaced his fingers, thrusting inside of me in a way that felt more penetrating than actual sex. I shoved his head deeper between my thighs feeling my climax beginning. Oh my God.

  Oh my God.

  My orgasm ripped through every achingly tense muscle in my body. I didn’t know it could feel like this. So powerful. So intense. Like whiplash, it flung me into the depths of exquisite pleasure over and over again, rolling through me in waves.

  Oh. My. God.

  I finally blinked my eyes open to reality and the incredibly arousing sight of Wyatt’s head still between my legs, gently lapping at my core, bringing me back down to Earth slowly. Shit. My hands looked like they were about to pull out his gorgeous hair the way I was still clutching to his head. I quickly released them, the sudden movement causing his eyes to rise to mine.

  Even though my body burned for him—burned for more—that look made heat flood into my cheeks for a whole different reason. He kissed me gently before pushing himself up and pulling my underwear and sweats back over my hips; my panties sat uncomfortably bunched against my tender skin and I would have rather just taken them off but I wasn’t going to.

  “What now?” I asked quietly.

  He smiled slightly at me, “Now, you get some rest because as soon as your doctor’s orders are up, I’m getting that sweet ass of yours back out on the slopes and nailing that triple, solidifying your place as the most impressive—and sexiest—woman I’ve ever met.”

  Son of a biscuit, I felt like I was about to cry again, his ridiculously simple words touching my heart. I didn’t trust myself to respond, so I just nodded trying to blink back the now-happy tears.

  I saw him wince as he bent to retrieve my shirt, his pants digging into his arousal painfully. I couldn’t let him leave like that—although what he’d just done to me was going to be a tough act to follow.

  “Wyatt…”

  “Sit up,” he said gruffly, and I complied, raising my arms above my head so he could slip my sweatshirt back on. As soon as it was over me, I dropped my hand to cup his arousal. “Fuck,” he swore and stepped back.

  My brows furrowed with hurt and confusion. Why didn’t he want my touch?

  He pinched the bridge of his nose as he knelt in front of me, taking my hands in his.

  “I want to make you feel good,” I blurted out dumbly, wishing I’d said something just a tad bit sexier, but I just wasn’t that kind of girl.

  His hand cupped my face, and his eyes stared intently at my lips, as though he were picturing them somewhere else on his body. “I know, sweetheart, and I do.” My lips parted. “I’m more than good with what just happened here. I’m more than good knowing that not only did you give me the privilege to take away your pain, but that you trusted me with a part of you that no one else has had before.” I couldn’t look away from his eyes and the depth of emotion in them that was swallowing me whole. “Relieving this--” He glanced down at his cock that looked like it was about to poke a hole through his pants, “—would be nothing compared to the pleasure you’ve already given me.”

  His head leaned in and he claimed my lips softly one more time. I could taste myself on him, the pleasure that he’d freed inside of me; it began the ache in my core all over again.

  “I’ve won a lot of things, Channing—the Open, the X Games, the Olympics—but none of them tasted as sweet as you.” Swoon.

  I groaned as he pulled his head back to stand. I didn’t want him to go. “I’m going to go fill the bathtub for you and then I’m going to go,” his eyes darkened, “before I break every gentlemanly attempt that I’m making right now.”

  Break them and take me, I wanted to say but he was gone before I had the chance.

  I sat frozen for a second before taking the opportunity to adjust my clothes, fixing my underwear that were wet and uncomfortably bunched up against me and righting my shirt and bra. I grabbed my cup of water, gulping down several mouthfuls in an attempt to moisten my throat that felt as dry as the desert. I looked around for my phone, finding it wedged between the cushions of th
e couch. I saw there was a text from Ally.

  ALLY

  On our way back. Karaoke crowd was unacceptable.

  I smiled to myself. Poor Zack. Ally had an unhealthy obsession with karaoke and it was her first suggestion whenever she was given the chance. I looked at the time. Her text had come through ten minutes ago, right when my phone was the last thing I would have noticed.

  Good thing Wyatt had turned me down… otherwise that would have been a very uncomfortable situation for Zack and Ally to—

  “Helloooo!” Ally’s sing-song voice rang out through the hall. What timing…

  I heard two sets of footsteps approaching me so Zack must have come inside with her. “Glad to see you haven’t moved!” She was smiling and completely serious.

  “Of course not. I knew what I’d have to put up with from you… all of you… if I did.” I rolled my eyes.

  “How you doing there champ?” Zack asked. “I hope you enjoyed your sister’s soup.” He winked at Ally and looped his arm around her waist. I watched her return his smile, only hers didn’t quite spread all the way across her face.

  “I… I went with the Chinese food. Sorry, Al.” I shrugged sheepishly, knowing she’d see the empty cartons in the garbage anyway.

  Zack’s head looked over his shoulder and then back at me. “Hey, where is that big brother of mine?”

  I felt my face reddening by the second even though my answer was completely harmless. It was going to take at least an hour to be able to think of the man without seeing his face between my legs and his mouth devouring me.

  “Yeah, Chan, where is Mr. Milk-Frother?”

  Zack’s eyes shot to my sister as he began to laugh; I didn’t care about him. But, of course, that exact moment was when my Mr. Milk-Frother strolled back into the kitchen just in time to hear Ally’s comment.

  “Mr. Milk-Frother?” Zack had the audacity to repeat.

  At least my face had a legitimate reason for being beet-red right now, I thought as I groaned and tried to sink deeper into the couch, refusing to look at any of them.

  “Zack…” Wyatt’s raspy voice drawled through the space, a subtle suggestion that he should let it go.

  “You’re definitely going to have to explain that one to me later, babe,” he whispered not-so-quietly to my sister.

  “Alright, we should get going.” I heard Wyatt walking over towards me. He picked up his jacket off the couch, throwing it on, his eyes locked with mine. I could hear Zack and Ally ‘saying’ their goodbyes, but Wyatt and I could only stare at each other. “I’ll see you Monday.”

  This time it definitely wasn’t a question. “Thank you,” I answered softly. I saw him glance quickly to his brother and my sister who were still too preoccupied to notice us, before he took two steps towards me, his head bending to my ear.

  “No, gorgeous, thank you.” I shivered. And then his mouth claimed mine hard and fast because he needed to and because neither of us were the blatant PDA kind of people; especially when whatever was between us was as undefinable, yet as unstoppable as a snowstorm.

  A second later he was gone, pulling his brother out with him, leaving my sister grinning just until the door shut when seriousness rained down on her features.

  “I’m injured,” I began preemptively. “My brain is too traumatized to answer questions right now.” Clever, entertaining, but not enough to stop a sister on a mission. I stood as she rounded the couch—my eyes darting not-so-inconspicuously over me to make sure there was no evidence of Wyatt’s touch.

  “What happened?” She crossed her arms, looking from me, to the couch, to the untouched bowl of soup.

  “I said nothing.” I smiled sweetly at her before turning towards the kitchen, anticipating my bath. “Thanks for the soup, sis,” I tossed over my shoulder, attempting anything to keep control of the conversation during my escape, “but Wyatt brought me food. So, unless you want it, you should probably throw it.”

  “I’m fine. But don’t worry, sis,” she returned, her tone oozed sweetness, far more than mine—practice makes perfect, “there’s plenty more soup in the fridge. Did you think I just made one bowl?” I swallowed my groan. “You can have some tomorrow for lunch!”

  Son of a biscuit. Damn soup… and damn sister.

  “You want to know how I know that you’re lying, that it’s not just nothing?” Her laughter floated behind me as I tried to escape to the stairs and I knew I was in trouble. “Because your freaking sweatpants are on backwards—and I have a feeling they aren’t the only things!”

  My head jerked down, pulling out my waistband. Sure enough, my sweats, which in my defense looked the same in the front and the back, were on backwards. No wonder my freaking underwear felt so uncomfortable. I groaned out loud, taking the stairs two at a time. I breathed a sigh of relief when I didn’t hear her footsteps behind me.

  I thought—hoped—she’d given up as I turned on the water, only to be mostly naked when she came barging into the bathroom. My hand flew to my chest to stop my heart from jumping out of my chest.

  “Are you trying to give me a stroke?” I stepped into the steaming, lavender-scented bathwater.

  “Are you trying to avoid my question?” She pushed herself up to sit on the sink counter, smiling at me and waiting for me to cave. “Don’t bother answering that—I know you are. But, I’m not going to leave you alone—and lucky for you, I’m the one who is taking care of your brain-damaged tush for the near future. So, unless you want soup for every meal, I suggest you start talking.”

  I closed my eyes; she drove a hard bargain.

  “I apologized to him for making him out to be the bad guy on the mountain the other day.” She wasn’t impressed. And I wasn’t going to tell her the whole story so that she would be; Emmett had said enough when he’d dropped me off before they began fighting. “He apologized for yelling at me. We talked a little and then ate some dinner.”

  “I really do have a lot of soup left.” Ally flipped her hand over, pretending to examine her nails in boredom.

  I groaned and half sunk underneath the water, wishing I could disappear underneath its surface. “What do you want, Al?”

  “The truth about what’s going on between the two of you. I mean, we come home one night to see you two relaxing on the couch. You don’t say anything about it. Then, I have to hear from someone else that you’re blowing off Emmett and Nick to spend time with Wyatt even though you two sure don’t act like a couple around anyone.”

  “I haven’t had a chance to really talk to you—you’re always with Zack!”

  She huffed and rolled her eyes. “Don’t you start with me too.” Her eyes narrowed on me. “Did you tell him to say that? Did you tell him to say something to me?”

  My face scrunched at her. “What? Tell who to say what?”

  “Your asshole friend, Emmett. He said basically the same thing to me tonight. Is there a problem that I’m hanging out with Zack?”

  “When did you see Emmett?”

  “Oh my God. At the karaoke bar, which is why we left. I told you that the crowd was unacceptable; I couldn’t stand being in that jerk’s presence one more minute.” I closed my eyes, listening as her anger got the better of her curiosity. “He literally must have done five shots in the first five minutes of being there, only to come over and give me attitude about how the Olsen’s show up and we lose our ‘pretty little heads.’” I peeked one eye open; Ally was really getting worked up about this. “Then going on about how I was spending too much time with Zack and that I was too young—can you believe that! I’m almost twenty!”

  I bit my lip so that I wouldn’t chuckle at her distress. I didn’t know why she let Emmett get to her; then again, I didn’t know why he insisted on trying to get to her. I’d have to talk to him.

  Ally threw her hands up. “No. I digress. And, if you couldn’t tell, I’m not in the mood. What is going on with you and Wyatt?”

  “Nothing.” I sighed. “I don’t know. Honestly. I don’t know. There
’s obviously something going on between us, but I keep fighting it.”

  Until tonight.

  “Why?”

  I stared down at my toes peeking up above the water. “Because,” I admitted softly, “I don’t want to hurt him any more than I have to.” My confession wasn’t just to her.

  “What are you talking about?” She slid down off the counter.

  “I asked him to help me learn the trick that will help me beat him in the Slopestyle competition.”

  “Wait, what?”

  “I asked him to help me. That’s why I’ve been ditching Emmett and Nick in the mornings. I asked Wyatt to teach me the triple because I told him I wanted to attempt it in the Open. Only, I’m really going to attempt it in two weeks in our Slopestyle run. I basically asked him to teach me how to win against himself, only he doesn’t know that. And if he figures it out, I don’t want that betrayal to be magnified by any feelings that we may or may not have for each other.”

  Silence.

  I hazarded a glance at her; she still looked angry.

  “Well, I think it’s safe to say that those feelings are there—the roses alone should have been a clue. But I think you need to make a choice to either explore them or keep him out of your life for good, because letting this linger for the sake of a stupid trick, is cruel. If you don’t want him, then break it off. If you do want him, then you better figure out just how much because there are some things in life more important than winning, Channing.” My mouth dropped open and then shut again, begrudgingly admitting that my baby sister had a very good point.

  It wasn’t just a ‘stupid trick,’ but she was right nonetheless.

  “Alright,” she sighed, apparently giving up on our conversation, “I’m going to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Her hand stopped on the doorknob as I said, “Ally…” She looked over at me as I reached down to open up the drain. “Thank you,” I paused, “for the soup, I mean.”