Page 8 of Baby, It Snowed Outside

I nod my head, giggling at his persistence and thankful for his forgiveness. A joint is exactly what I need to calm my nerves. I drink my cocoa while he gets to work setting the paper, breaking up the pieces and rolling them into a joint. When he finishes, he proudly strolls over to sit with me. He starts to roll the handle of the window, opening it slowly.

“Stop! The neighbors might know we’re smoking.” I shout. After years of being conditioned by Zane and Breck not to get busted, I’m not even thinking about the time of day or the weather.

Zane throws his head back, erupting with deep laughter. “Aspen, it’s bad outside.The snow has been coming down for hours,” He replies in the silky soft voice I’ve come to crave. “They won’t have a clue.”

He lights the joint, puffing in his cheeks and inhaling a long slow drag. He holds the smoke in for a minute, then blows it out the window. The tendrils melt slowly into the air. He takes another drag while I tilt the rest of my cocoa down my throat.

“What’s in this cocoa? Are you ever going to tell me your secret?” I’m trying to make light conversation, hoping it doesn’t sound as awkward to him as it does to me.

“There’s no one crazy enough to be outside right now. Not a single creature in sight.” He’s sticking to the previous subject to dodge my question.

“You can’t avoid sharing the recipe forever, you know.” I say, teasing him. The tension feels like it’s melting away between us.

I wish I knew how to make the first move. Zane passes me the joint. I lift it to my lips, inhaling slowly, enjoying the way the flavors mix with the remnants of cocoa still left behind from my drink. Between my lips the paper crackles, burning away.

“What are you thinking about?” Zane asks, his voice a deep rumble that makes my heart beat in all the ways it shouldn’t.

“What gives it away that I’m thinking about something?”

“Your eyes are like starlight.” He whispers.

I’m left staring at him doe-eyed, caught uncomfortably in his confession because I don’t know what to say or how to react. I’m just staring at him like a bumbling idiot and fuck if he doesn’t look delicious sitting there, returning my unwavering eye contact. His head is cocked just barely to one side and his lips. Those goddamn scrumptious lips of his taunt me to kiss him. They pull up in a smirk, revealing his perfect smile. I have to break this spell. I blink and do the first thing that comes to mind. Before I can change my mind, I reach out and snatch his baseball cap from his head.

“Hey!” He snorts, laughing. “That’s mine. I’ll take the hat.” He snatches it back from me and pops it on his head backward.

My lower stomach tingles as a hot burning sensation rushes over me, filling my mind with thoughts of what it might be like to—. I stop myself. This is only intensifying my urge to kiss him.

“Now your hair looks just swell,” Zane teases, accepting the joint and taking a long, deep drag.

I shrug, uncaring. I would rather he laugh at me than confess to me he wants this too. It’s making it so hard to fight the inner turmoil. He takes the empty mug from my hands. Now they have nothing better to do. It will be impossible to keep them from wandering. Zane places the reindeer themed mug on the windowsill where his rests, and scoots closer to me. I ought to say no, no, no, sir.

“Mind if I move in closer?” He rasps as his lips brush against my ear.

He holds the joint out for me and I pluck it from his fingers, eager for it to calm my nerves. Two slow inhales for me and I pass it back to him. I should say no because then at least I could say that I tried to stop this from happening. Instead, I shake my head, transfixed once again by the spell his eyes have me under. Zane’s lips pull against the tip of the joint as the papers burn closer to his fingers. I imagine what it would feel like for him to pull my aching clit between his lips, just like that. My imagination is turning my panties into a melted mess. If my thoughts can do this to me, then imagine how undone I would become experiencing it. As if on cue, his fingertips dance across my cheekbone as he brushes a strand of hair from my face. The anticipation is killing me as my heart thunders away in my chest. I tilt my head in to meet him halfway. If we’re doing this—if he’s sparing me the guilt of making the first move like the knight in shining armor type that he is—I can at least be a very willing participant. I can’t help but wonder if he’ll leave me waiting the same way I did him.

Karma plays a cruel joke on me. Rather than his lips careening toward mine, he holds the last of the joint to my mouth. “Hit it. I don’t want you to burn those delicate lips.”

The heat rises to my cheeks. I know I must be blushing a deep shade of pink. “Thank you,” I manage to squeak out in an embarrassing, barely audible whisper.

He hits the joint one more time, then flips the butt out into the giant snowdrift.

“Open your present,” I suggest. Trying to put some space between us because the magnetic attraction is getting to be undeniably strong. I’m struggling to keep my thoughts straight. Maybe that’s the weed telling me to stop thinking about everything and to just act on it.

Zane pulls me into his lap, ignoring my request. “What’s the sense in hurting my pride?” He whispers, gazing hopelessly into my eyes. His bedroom eyes, mixed with the calm and clarity from our smoking session, has me reaching up to catch his face.

“What do you mean?” I demand softly.

He doesn’t answer me. His eyes plead mine to stop pretending we both don’t know.

When nothing happens, I suck in my breath and open one eye. His lips are just about to come crashing down on mine. I squeeze them closed again right before I feel them collide. He tastes like the sweet savory cocoa, mixed with a forbidden desire. His lips are soft. They fit perfectly between mine like we were made for one another. I want to suck his lip in and nibble on it playfully. My entire body is overcome with desire. The way I find I want him in such a visceral way is completely and totally unreal. My mind is flooded with thoughts of doing so much more than just kissing Zane. I imagine the other things allowing my imagination the freedom to let loose all its wild fantasies. It’s not until his tongue flicks across my lips, lightly begging me to part them, that I regain my wits and come to my senses. Instantly, the guilt washes over me and I pull away, gasping.

“I really can’t—“ I whisper.

His fingers tip my chin until I’m staring into his eyes. His hopelessly dreamy eyes. I find myself lost in the endless pools of color. “Stay.” He begs.

“Zane.” I’m practically moaning his name.

“Aspen,” the way he says my name is more of a hungry growl. “Baby, don’t hold out.” If I were standing, my knees would be shaking. “Baby, it snowed outside.”

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