Snow Job

by Tara Wyatt

  He sat down beside her and handed her the steaming mug, which she accepted with a smile. The fire crackled softly and for a moment, they sat in silence, sipping their coffee.

  Then she turned to him, her head tilted. “Will you tell me about your knee and everything that happened?”

  He let out a breath and then nodded. “What do you want to know?”

  She reached out and wove her fingers through his. “Everything.”

  His chest felt hollow as he looked at her, this gorgeous, amazing woman who somehow wanted him after everything he’d done.

  “That’s a long story.”

  “I think I can fit it into my jam-packed schedule today,” she said, her gorgeous mouth twisting into a wry smile.

  He swallowed and sat back against the couch, something in his chest softening when she snuggled into him. He caught a whiff of his shampoo from her damp hair and his stomach tightened. Kayla Bristowe, smelling like him, wearing his clothes was the hottest, sexiest thing ever. Ever. It made him want her again. Made him want to be the man she deserved. Made him want things he’d long since given up on having.

  He stroked a hand up and down her arm, trying to organize his thoughts. It had been a while since he’d talked about some of this stuff. There were things that only a few people knew—Max and Lucian, mostly. He’d always done his best to keep his baby brother Theo out of his problems, and Aerin had had enough on her plate with her acrimonious divorce followed by her move to Dallas. But he found that he wanted to open up to Kayla. After what she’d given him this morning with her openness and vulnerability, he wanted to do the same for her.

  “When I was a kid, home was bad. We had money, but that didn’t make up for the fact that my parents hated each other, spent years using us as pawns in their divorce. My dad resented anyone or anything that seemed weak to him. I have memories of him screaming at me to stop crying when I’d hurt myself or something.”

  “How old were you?” Kayla asked softly, her arm tightening around his waist.

  “Like seven or eight. He’d call me a sissy and a weakling for daring to have emotions. It was hard. Really hard. He hated me and Lucian so much. He mostly ignored Theo and Aerin, which left them open to Mom’s passive aggressive belittling. He liked Max, for some reason. Not that Max isn’t likeable. I just didn’t see how he was so different from me or Lucian. Things got better in some ways after the divorce, but also worse because they never had time for us. I always felt like we were a burden. An inconvenience. I started acting out just trying to get attention, but they didn’t care. I just got labeled the wild one and that was that. ‘Oh, don’t pay any mind to Sebastian even though he’s eleven and getting in fights and telling teachers to fuck off. He’s just a needy little attention whore.’”

  She sucked in a sharp breath. “That’s cruel.”

  “It was. When I was twelve, a friend from school offered to take me snowboarding for a weekend. His family had a ski chalet upstate, and I went because why wouldn’t I want to get out of that damn penthouse for a weekend? I had my first taste and I was hooked. It came naturally to me and I loved it. My friend’s mom saw that and made sure to bring me up as much as possible, and eventually I caught the attention of one of the instructors at the local resort and he fast tracked me into a competitive training program. Two years later I was competing in major World Cup events in Switzerland, Austria, Canada. It became my entire life and it gave me something positive to focus on. It made me feel good about myself for the first time in my life, and I had an outlet for all of the crazy energy inside me.”

  “That’s amazing. It sounds like you were a prodigy.”

  He shrugged, feeling mildly embarrassed at her praise. “I rose fast and it felt like there was nothing I couldn’t do. When I was eighteen, I went to the World Cup with one goal in mind: finish in the top fifteen so that I could qualify for the 2006 Olympics.”

  “What happened?”

  “I came sixteenth and they offered me a spot as an alternate. If someone got hurt, I was in, but that didn’t happen. I was so mad at myself for coming so close and not making it, and so I was determined to do whatever it took to get to Vancouver in 2010. It became my entire focus, my entire reason for existing.”

  “I can’t even imagine the kind of sacrifice and dedication it takes to compete at that level.”

  “I’d moved out when I was seventeen and was staying with one of my coaches in Colorado. I lived and trained there and while my siblings came to visit and came to my competitions when they could, my parents never did.”

  “Bastian, I don’t mean any offense, but your parents are grade-A assholes.”

  He chuckled softly and gave her a squeeze. “Oh, believe me. I know. I don’t really talk to them anymore.”

  “So what happened?”

  “I spent the next four years competing and training my ass off. World Cup events, X Games, you name it, I was there. The 2009 World Cup came around and I had to finish in the top fifteen for my ticket to Vancouver.”

  She looked up at him, her eyes bright, entirely focused on his story. “Did you?”

  He grinned. “I came third.”

  She smiled, pride beaming out at him. “That’s incredible.”

  He sighed, getting to the part of the story where it all fell apart. “It was definitely a high point. But then about a month before the Olympics, I was training and I blew out my knee. My ligaments were already stretched from overtraining, and all it took was one off-kilter landing to wreck everything. I felt a pop—I’ll never forget that feeling, God—and that was it. I’d completely torn my ACL and needed major surgery to fix it.”

  “I’m sorry, Bastian. You must’ve been devastated.”

  “I was. But I had the surgery and started physio, determined that that wasn’t the end. But it didn’t seem to matter how much physio I did. My knee was never the same. I could still ride, still do tricks, but there was no way it could handle the strain of intense training I’d need to commit to. I was done. Everything I’d worked for, everything I’d wanted and poured myself into for over ten years was just gone.”

  Kayla didn’t say anything, just held him tighter.

  He sighed. “So, I went back to New York and stayed with Max, who encouraged me to get a degree. I’d finished high school—barely—but college had never been on the radar because I’d been so focused on snowboarding. It had been my whole life. I was twenty-four and felt like I was starting my entire life over again.”

  “So you went back to school, obviously.”

  “I did. I did a fast-tracked business degree and then my MBA. It felt good to have something to focus on. But once I was out of school and working full time, things started to come off the rails.”

  “What happened?”

  He shook his head slowly, his hand trailing up and down her arm, anchoring himself with the feel of her soft body pressed against his. “It wasn’t any one thing. All I knew was that I felt empty, like something was missing and it didn’t matter what I did, nothing made it go away. So I started trying to ignore it, drown it out. I was drinking too much, and when I drank, I did stupid shit, trying to feel something. Trying to find that missing piece of myself that I’d left out on the mountain. I craved the adrenaline rush I’d gotten from competing and I looked for it in riskier and riskier places, and I’d find it—temporarily. But then the high would fade and I’d be left feeling even worse about myself and my life because of the stupid shit I’d done. So then I’d drink more and find another stupid thing to do to make myself feel better.”

  “What kinds of things did you do?” she asked softly, and he could hear the apprehension in her voice.

  “Sex. Fighting. I was part of this underground fighting ring for a while, and there were times when I felt so fucking awful about myself that I’d just let the other guy pummel the shit out of me, because it was what I deserved. In dark moments, I’d hear my dad’s voice, telling me that I was worthless, that I was a waste of space, that I was a useless
fuck-up.”

  “Bastian,” she whispered, holding him tighter.

  He cleared his throat and swallowed around the lump there. This was only the second time he’d ever said all of this out loud, the entire story. The first time he’d told it, he’d felt defensive. But this time, sharing it with Kayla, it felt different, and he knew it was because he was owning it. Accepting it.

  “But the worst thing I did was gamble. The high of winning was addictive and it fucking swallowed me whole. I’d take on riskier bets with higher stakes and when I won, it was the closest I’d come to that high, that rush of competing. I wanted to win at something, and I’d stopped caring at what. I think deep down I knew I had a problem, but I was in denial for a long time. I became consumed with it, always thinking about my next bet. My next rush. When I was winning, I felt like my life was okay, that everything was going to be fine. But then inevitably I’d lose and all of those feelings of worthlessness and being a failure would come roaring back. The only way to make them go away was to try to win the money back. It became this cycle and it felt like a fucking prison.”

  “That sounds absolutely awful. I can’t even imagine.” Her voice was soft and without the weight of judgment or recrimination. All he could hear was empathy and concern. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and noticed that her eyes were bright with unshed tears. For him. God.

  “It was. It was hell on earth. I tried to stop so many times, Kayla. But the longer I went without it, the more I felt like I was going to fucking explode. That’s when I’d go to the fight club and try to work it all out there. Sometimes it worked and sometimes it didn’t. When it didn’t, I’d drink until I couldn’t feel anything except numb.”

  “Are you still gambling now?”

  Her question was completely fair, and yet he still felt a stab of pain right in the center of his chest, an echo of the worthlessness he’d struggled so hard against.

  “No. I haven’t gambled in three months now. Almost four.”

  She squeezed him. “That’s really great, Bastian.”

  He shrugged. “I’d hit rock bottom. I got kicked out of my apartment because of the betting ring I’d been running and had to stay with Lucian. Honestly, Lucian is the only reason I’m still in one piece. When I first started gambling, I think he could tell that I was in over my head, and one night after a few drinks, he made me sign over my trust fund to him. But I found money to gamble with other ways, which I don’t think was his intention when he took my access away. He wasn’t counting on having to bail me out with shady as fuck loan sharks. He paid everyone off with interest to make sure they’d stay off my back.” He shook his head slowly. “I was messing with some really dangerous people. I could’ve been killed. If not for Lucian, I might’ve been.”

  She sat up and cupped his face. “I had no idea about any of this,” she said quietly. “But there are some things that make a lot more sense now.”

  “I told you I was a mess.”

  She shook her head, a wavy tendril of hair escaping her bun and falling by her cheek. “No. The Sebastian of a year ago? He was a mess. But I don’t think you’re that guy anymore.”

  “I’m trying not to be. That’s why I came out here, to reconnect with something I loved, to get away from the city. To figure shit out.” He swallowed, hesitating before he said, “I also Skype with a therapist once a week.” He hadn’t planned to tell her that he was in therapy, but it felt good. Freeing.

  Kayla leaned forward and kissed him, her lips soft and sweet against his. He felt a tug in his gut that was deeper than just arousal.

  In that moment, he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he was going to fall for her.

  13

  They’d spent the rest of the morning talking about anything and everything. Sebastian’s past and his close relationship with his siblings, the fact that Stammler was a giant asshole, their favorites, from movies and music to food and travel destinations. It felt so incredibly good to curl up with him on the couch in front of the fire, snow falling outside, just talking. Learning about the man who was quickly invading her brain and her heart. With the snow still falling and the two of them holed up in Sebastian’s cozy cabin, it felt like they were in a cocoon, totally apart from the rest of the world.

  She didn’t want it to end. But she knew that real life would beckon soon enough, and Sebastian would have lessons to teach and she’d be headed back to the city in two days. So for now, she was going to take full advantage of the situation at hand.

  After they’d eaten a simple lunch of grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup, Sebastian had gone to grab a shower. She wished she could join him, but there was no way that shower would hold the two of them. She was amazed that Sebastian fit in there by himself, never mind with her. So instead, once she heard the water running, she peeled off her clothes and hobbled her way to the bed. The sheets were still messy and rumpled, but there was no point in making the bed because they’d just mess it up again. And again. And again.

  She leaned back against the headboard, the wood cold against her skin. Closing her eyes, she imagined Sebastian in the shower, soapy water running over his incredibly sexy body. She loved every single thing about it, from the muscles, to the chest hair, to the mouthwateringly long, thick cock between his legs. But more than that, she wanted to show him that everything he’d told her about his past hadn’t scared her away. She still wanted him just as much, was still just as drawn to him, maybe even more.

  She opened her eyes when she realized that with any other man, the things Sebastian had confessed to her would’ve sent her screaming in the other direction. But with him, knowing about his past and everything he’d faced, all she wanted to do was hold him close and care for him. And it wasn’t just because he had a six pack and a big dick, although both of those things were absolutely lovely. It was because everything felt somehow different with him. Bigger, brighter, more intense. There had to be a reason that they’d gotten so far under each other’s skin, and she had a feeling that their chemistry, both physical and emotional, was a huge factor.

  She heard the shower shut off, the pipes rattling, and she opened her legs, skating her fingers down her inner thigh and to her pussy. Her mind jumped back to how he’d told her to touch herself last night and an ache bloomed deep inside her. She loved how he’d taken charge last night. How for once, she hadn’t had to think, only feel. And come. Over and over again. She toyed with her clit, stroking it slowly, but it didn’t feel nearly as good as Sebastian’s fingers. Or his mouth. God, the things he’d done to her last night with his mouth. The ache inside her intensified, making her feel empty. She dipped her finger inside herself, coating it with the wetness there and then returned to her clit.

  She heard the bathroom door open and Sebastian’s sharp intake of breath.

  “Holy fuck, baby,” he rasped, and she pried her eyes open. His stormy blue ones had gone molten, his pupils blown with lust as he stared at her touching herself in his bed. Then he licked his lips and dropped the towel knotted around his hips. His cock was already half hard, laying thick and heavy against his thigh. “Does that feel good?” he asked, moving closer. “When you rub your clit like that?”

  “Mmmhmm. But not as good as when you touch me. Or lick me. God.”

  With a predatory gleam in his eye that sent a thrill shooting through her, he climbed onto the bed and circled his fingers around her wrist, lifting her fingers to his lips. Holding her eyes, he slowly sucked her fingers into his mouth, one by one. Her nipples beaded and her clit throbbed at the feeling of his tongue licking the taste of her from her skin. When he released her, he leaned forward and kissed her, a hard, dirty kiss with sliding tongues and hungry teeth that made her even wetter. That made her feel achy and empty and so, so greedy for him.

  But there was something they hadn’t done last night that she was dying to do right now. Something that had her mouth watering and her stomach quivering. She reached out and wrapped her wet fingers around his cock, now fu
lly hard, stroking him.

  “I really, really want this cock in my mouth,” she said, squeezing him and earning a gruff moan. “I’ve been thinking about sucking you all morning.”

  “Christ, that’s hot.” He slipped his hand under her chin, tilting her face up to his. His thumb played across her lower lip, teasing both of them. “Hell yeah, I wanna fuck this pretty mouth. See these perfect lips wrapped around me.”

  She grinned and kissed him. It was a heady feeling being so intensely wanted by such a sexy man and one she couldn’t get enough of. With her hands on his broad shoulders, she urged him back against the headboard and then started kissing a path down his chest, taking her time and exploring the delicious ridges and valleys created by his muscled physique. His chest hair bristled against her lips as she bit softly at his nipple, making him pull in a shuddering breath. One by one, she kissed each of his abs, scraping her teeth lightly over his skin. By the time she settled herself between his legs, a drop of liquid had beaded on the tip of his cock, glistening and begging for her tongue.

  Looking up at him through her lashes, she swirled her tongue over his thick head, lapping up the taste of him. Her pussy clenched and she lost all interest in teasing. She needed him in her mouth. Needed to taste him and make him feel good. Needed a part of him inside her.

  On a long exhale, she slowly worked her mouth down his shaft in one long sweep, taking him deep. His fingers wove into her hair and his hips shifted on the bed.

  “Fuck, Kayla. Your mouth feels so damn good, baby,” he said, his voice raw and gritty with arousal. With her hand curled around the base of his cock, she found a slow, easy rhythm, taking as much of him as she could, working him with her mouth and hand. After a few moments, she released him with a pop and kissed her way up and down his shaft, licking and sucking, dragging her lips over his hot skin. Another drop had formed and she licked it away, the taste of him making her wetter. Making her throb. Making her want to please him.