Snowman

by AC Netzel

  No shame. I’m good with that.

  “Good morning,” he says, giving me a quick kiss on my lips. “You look sexy with your hair all messy like that.”

  I run my hands over my head. “Oh God, I must look horrible. This is your fault.”

  “I proudly accept responsibility. And I’ll gladly do it again.”

  “What time is it?” I ask.

  “A little after nine.”

  “What? I never sleep past seven. You kept me up late with your sex-nanigans.”

  “You’re welcome,” he says with a wink.

  “You’re such a jerk.”

  “That’s not what you called me last night. I believe the words you used were Sex Stallion.”

  Oh, God. I did say that.

  “If I recall, you were balls deep inside me at the time. And your hands were all over me. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

  “Sex Stallion.” He looks to the ceiling, playing with the words. “I like it.”

  “Oh. Shut up.” I grab my cup of coffee from the hearth. “Is the electricity back?”

  “Not yet.” He lifts his coffee mug and takes a sip. “Are you cold?”

  “I’m okay. The fire and the blankets are keeping me warm.”

  “If you get too hot, feel free to take those blankets off.”

  “I’m naked under this.”

  “I know. Feel free to take it off.”

  I side-eye the floor where the condom box sits. “Plan on using them today?”

  “Do you want me to?”

  Slowly, I nod, and my pulse races.

  Hell to the yeah.

  “First, I’d like to make breakfast for you. Then,” he takes my hand and kisses the back of it, “we’ll work on that box.”

  “Stallion, you got yourself a deal.”

  “That’s Sex Stallion to you.”

  “You really are a jerk.”

  Sitting with my legs stretched under the coffee table in front of the fireplace in a thick white terrycloth bathrobe I borrowed from Nick, I delight in every tasty morsel of my breakfast.

  “These were hands-down the best pancakes I ever had. They’re so light and fluffy. What’s your secret?”

  “This chef never divulges his recipes. Unless my aunt asks for it.”

  I chuckle, wiping my mouth and throwing my crumpled napkin on the table. “And this is seriously the best coffee.”

  “A French press makes the best cup. Did you have enough?” he asks.

  “Mmm-hmm. Thank you. I’m full. It was delicious.” I spot my cell phone at the corner of the coffee table, and my heart sinks. Holding in a breath, I grab my phone off the table, then blow out my breath quickly.

  Nick’s gaze darts between me and the phone in my hand. He stays silent as I face the inevitable end of whatever this was.

  Shocked that I have service, I check my flight status. My pulse races as my heartbeat picks up its tempo.

  “Bad news.” I click out of my airline app. “My flight was canceled again. The airport’s closed today due to ice.”

  “I’m sorry?” he jokes.

  I smile. “No, you’re not.”

  “No.” He leans over and presses a quick kiss on my lips. “I’m not. So, where are you going to stay tonight?” he asks, his widening grin betraying his indifference.

  “Are you kicking me out?” I ask indignantly.

  Casually, he shrugs a shoulder. “Haven’t decided.”

  I narrow my eyes. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “Sure I would.”

  “I thought you were a gentleman.”

  “You won’t think that way when your pretty lips are moaning my name while I fuck you against the couch.”

  A thrilling electric charge quakes through my body. My god, I love his dirty talk.

  “What if I don’t let you?” I ask flippantly.

  “You will.”

  He’s right.

  I definitely will.

  “You’re awfully sure of yourself, Snowman.”

  “Are you saying I’m wrong?”

  Slowly sinking my teeth into my bottom lip, I shake my head.

  “Good. Because I’m addicted to you already.”

  Nick’s nose is buried deep in a book. A blanket covers his legs that are stretched out across the couch we had sex against two hours ago. I’m laying down on the rug in front of the fireplace with a blanket draped over me, flipping through back issues of Frosty Hooks, a magazine about ice fishing. I now possess the knowledge of distinguishing the difference between monofilament and fluorocarbon fishing line.

  Riveting stuff.

  He places his George Washington biography on his lap and stares thoughtfully at the fire.

  “How’s George’s cherry tree doing? I ask.

  “Still erect,” he deadpans.

  “There’s a lot of that going on around here.”

  His mouth twitches up to a small smile then he stares back at the fire.

  “Hey, you look like you’re a million miles away. What are you thinking about?” I ask.

  “You and me.”

  “What about you and me?”

  He’s quiet for a beat, looks down at the book, then back at me. “I’m glad we had this time to get to know each other.”

  “Yeah, I think we know each other pretty well now,” I joke. “In a few different positions.”

  “I mean it. I haven’t felt like this in…” He sighs and shakes his head. “You’re beautiful, Summer. So damn beautiful.”

  Tossing my magazine to the side, I stand and walk to the couch. I grab his face with both hands and bend down, pulling him close to me and kiss him tenderly. He moans into our kiss, wrapping a hand around my neck and pulling me even closer. I groan, surprised at how our gentle kiss turned into something so deep.

  He tugs me down to the couch until I’m lying next to him, and we face each other.

  “I could kiss you all day and all night—and I don’t think it’ll ever be enough,” he murmurs, skimming the back of his hand up and down my cheek, then tracing the outline of my lips with his index finger.

  “Good,” I kiss the pad of his finger. “I don’t want it to be enough.”

  “Summer, what are you doing to me?”

  “I could ask you the same.”

  “After you go back, maybe we…,” he begins to say, but I place a finger over his lips.

  “Let’s not bring reality into this. I don’t want to ruin the little time we have together with real life.”

  “You’re right.” He presses a soft kiss on my fingertip. “Turn around. Let’s watch the fire.”

  I turn and scoot back against him. He pulls a blanket over us and wraps his arms around me. Although I know I shouldn’t think this way… I could get used to this.

  Being here…

  With him.

  Being anywhere…

  With him.

  We lay quietly for a long while in easy silence—where time doesn’t seem to matter, and my job and life in New York feels like a lifetime away. His strong arms are wrapped snugly around me, the heat from his body keeping me warm.

  “Do you want another blanket?” he asks.

  “I’m good.” I close my eyes and smile to myself—grateful for this perfectly quiet moment with this perfectly wonderful man.

  Even if it’s only temporary.

  “In a million years, I’d never picture this,” he says.

  “Picture what?”

  “You and me like this, with my arms around you… on the same side for a change.”

  “It’s a good change.”

  “It is.” He kisses the back of my head. “When I first met you on the side of the road, I thought you were the highest-strung person I ever had the misfortune of dealing with.”

  I smile. “But did you think I was pretty?”

  He laughs. “Didn’t notice. I was working.”

  “Liar.”

  “I may have noticed your blue eyes. And those sexy, pouty lips.”

 
“So, you liked my lips, huh?”

  “I liked them better when they weren’t moving.”

  “Is that so?” I tease.

  “That was before I knew how good they felt against mine. I like that more.”

  “You’re a smooth talker, Snowman.”

  “Just stating the facts, ma’am.”

  “Oh, we’re back to calling me ma’am?”

  “What do you want me to call you?”

  Yours.

  “It’s kind of a turn-on when you call me Sloane,” I confess. “I don’t know why, but I like it.”

  “Sloane,” he murmurs seductively in my ear, the deep hum of his voice sends exhilarating tremors throughout my body. “Sweet. Beautiful. Sexy. Sloane.”

  “Mmm.” I close my eyes, my body melting back into his—craving his touch, his mouth on mine. I long to feel him inside me, in… out… hurried… unhurried.

  “Are you tired?” he asks.

  “A little. You kept me up late last night. And this morning’s sexcapades depleted what little energy I had left.”

  “I appreciate you digging into your energy reserves for me.”

  “Purely selfish. I like the way you… you make me feel so… Ugh, you’re a Triple Crown-winning Sex Stallion, okay? They should name a freakin’ stud service after you. Call it ‘Snow Fucking Farm’ for all your orgasmic needs. You’d have a different partner every day.”

  “Not my style,” he says coolly.

  “You mean you wouldn’t want an endless line of no strings attached naked women throwing themselves at you? I thought all guys fantasized about that.”

  “Not this guy.”

  “What do you want?” I ask through a yawn.

  He kisses the back of my head and gives me a little squeeze. “I want you to sleep. I have a feeling we’re going to have another late night tonight.”

  “Mmm. I hope so.”

  “Count on it.”

  With a flashlight in hand, I walk into the candlelit kitchen in my borrowed robe and a pair of oversized crew socks. Nick is stirring a pot of marinara sauce in front of the stove in his sweats and a thermal-lined zip-up sweat jacket.

  “How was your shower?” he snickers, knowing full well it was ice cold and miserable.

  “Delightful,” I tell him as I untie my hair from the bun I twisted on top of my head to keep it dry.

  “You should have joined me. I would have kept you warm.”

  “This was a business shower to wash the sex away. You being there would have added more sex.”

  He raises a brow. “Seems likely.”

  “How’s little Nick,” I tease. “Shriveled up and hiding from the chilly water?”

  “First of all, never refer to my dick as little. That word is offensive. You’ve seen the physical evidence. It’s indisputable.”

  I chuckle. “Duly noted.”

  “And secondly, if you’re so interested in my dick’s wellbeing, you’re welcome to find it anytime and service it accordingly.”

  “You’re an ass,” I scoff.

  “As I recall, you like that too.”

  I shake my head with a smile. He’s not wrong.

  He’s got a great ass.

  “Can I help you with anything?” I ask. “I feel bad that you’ve cooked all our meals.”

  “I like cooking for you,” he says as he chops up some fresh parsley. “It’s freezing in here. Why don’t you warm up by the fireplace? The pasta should be ready in a minute. I’ll bring our dishes over.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, it’s fine. Get comfortable. Stare at the fire and think about my dick while you wait.”

  “Does anyone else in this town know you’re a pervert? Or is that a special thing you reserve for me?”

  “Just for you, Sloane.”

  “I’m not sure if I’m honored or offended.”

  “Both are fine.”

  I bite the inside of my cheek to suppress a laugh. “Okay, I’m out of here.”

  “That was delicious. I bet you could cook an old boot and it’d taste good.” I wipe my mouth with a napkin then place it on the coffee table.

  “I’m glad you liked it.”

  “You should open your own restaurant. You’re so talented.”

  “Thank you.” A heartwarmingly shy smile rises from his mouth.

  “I’ll clean up.” I gather our dishes and flatware off the coffee table.

  Nick places a hand on my arm. “That’s okay. I got it.”

  “Please, it’s the least I can do.”

  “Okay, thanks. I’ll grab some more firewood in the meantime. There’s chopped wood on the side of the house.”

  “You have to go outside in the icy tundra?”

  “Looks that way. Give me your car key.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ll get your suitcase. That is if your car isn’t encased in a block of ice.”

  “You don’t need to do that. I’m okay borrowing your stuff.” Truth is, I like wearing his clothes.

  “I’m going out anyway. Where’s your key?”

  I huff out a frustrated breath. “In my coat pocket.”

  “Good.” He gives me a quick kiss on my lips. “I’ll meet you back here in a few.”

  He grabs a flashlight off the floor and leaves the room while I tighten the belt on my robe and follow the candlelight to the frigid kitchen.

  I rush through washing the plates and silverware in ice-cold water, grateful that Nick took care of the pots and pans as he cooked. Quickly, I rush back to the living room. I sit in front of the blazing fire, placing my hands close to the flames to defrost my icy fingers.

  The kitchen side door opens, and something thumps to the floor. I assume that’s my frozen suitcase. A few minutes later, Nick walks into the living room with an arm full of firewood and piles them next to the half-filled wood rack on the side of the fireplace.

  “They’re dry?” I ask, surprised.

  “There’s a woodshed on the side of the house. It has a roof on it. It lets the air circulate and keeps the wood dry. Built it myself.” He kicks off his untied timberland boots to the side of the floor.

  “You’re good with your hands.”

  “You would know,” he says with a wink.

  “That’s not what I was talking about.” Placing my hand over my heart, I feign shock. “You have a filthy mind.”

  “You have no idea the things I’m going to do to you tonight.” His eyes travel up and down my body, sending thrilling tremors throughout my nerve endings.

  “That’s only if I let you.” Slowly, I slide the robe off my shoulder, exposing my bare skin. “Do things to me.”

  “Will you?” His voice is low, seductive… delicious.

  Hell yeah.

  “Maybe.” Grabbing the terrycloth fabric, I pull it back up and cover myself.

  “You’re good at this,” he says.

  “At what?”

  “Whatever it is you’re doing to me.”

  “What am I doing to you?”

  He drops to his knees, placing a hand on the shoulder I just exposed. Slowly, he slides my robe down again, revealing my shoulder. He caresses my bare skin with his thumb, slowly back and forth, back and forth, then covers me again. We may be sitting in black-out conditions, but between us is nothing but electricity.

  “More than I can admit.” Cupping my face, he swoops in with a soft, lingering, gorgeous kiss. His tongue slides between my parting lips, my heart beats faster as his tongue gently strokes mine. Slowly, we sink to the floor and give in to more. Deeper. Tender.

  I’m swept away... in him.

  In us.

  This kiss.

  This man.

  It feels so right, it hurts.

  We pull away and look in each other’s eyes. He smiles, that shy smile that melts me from the inside out, and I smile back.

  “What’s that?” I ask.

  “Battery-operated radio. I thought it’d be nice to have some music.” He opens the back o
f the radio and pops in a couple of AA batteries.

  “I have extra AA batteries in my suitcase if you need any.”

  “Why did you pack batteries?”

  “I, umm.” Heat sweeps across my cheeks. “I keep them on hand in case I need them.”

  “For what?”

  “Buzz Rocket,” I answer casually.

  His brow furrows. “Is that a kid’s toy?”

  I cock my head side to side. “Adult. Toy.”

  “Hmm.” He purses his lips for a quick beat, failing to hide his amusement. “I’m not opposed to toys.”

  “That’s good. Neither am I. Obviously.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” He snaps the back of the radio in place and turns it on. Soft Christmas music plays. “Is this okay?”

  “Yeah,” I tell him honestly. “It’s good.”

  I rest my head on his shoulder as we stare silently at the fire, lost in our separate thoughts while the music fills the air. Nat King Cole’s ‘The Christmas Song” plays, and I sigh.

  “What?” Nick asks.

  “This song reminds me of my parents dancing in our living room.”

  He stands, holding out a hand to me. “Dance with me.”

  “We don’t have to,” I begin, but he interrupts me.

  “Miss Sloane, please do me the honor.”

  I place my hand in his as he pulls me off the floor. He slides his hands down my back, wrapping them around my waist and pulling me closer to him. Reaching up, I wrap my hands around his neck, lacing my fingers together. We gaze into each other’s eyes, wordlessly connecting as we slow dance in front of the fireplace. His lips capture mine, my lips part welcoming his, our tongues dancing slowly, sensually.

  I feel his heart beating, warm heat radiating between us, and my heart flutters.

  We’re just two people bonded over what we have in common and what we don’t.

  Two hearts that found each other.