Page 81 of Peppermint Bark

I dropped my ski cap on the balcony floor and slid down the zipper of my coat, feeling none of the chilly December air, insulated by his hot gaze. I loosened my boots and let the snow pants drop, leaving a pile of gear on the concrete.

Standing in my long underwear on the windy balcony, watching his composure unravel with each discarded article of clothing, I’d never felt more powerful.

I tipped my head coyly towards the skiers. “You gonna stand there while I give all these people a show?” I reached for the hem of my shirt as a growl rose from his throat. Before I could raise it an inch, my body was being effortlessly carried into the room.

“They don’t get to see you before I do.” He lowered me on the bed and stripped off his outerwear. Then he was down to his base layer, crawling up the mattress, blue irises overtaken by his dark pupils. He propped himself on his forearms over me and I wrapped my arms around his shoulders.

His mouth was sweeping, claiming, plundering. My hands cradled his jaw, scraped over his scalp, clawed at his back. Weeks of pent-up yearning unspooled — no yoga class to teach, no work to interrupt, no family listening in. His greedy mouth departed for a journey down my jaw, my neck, my collarbone, and landed on my breast. His teeth scraped through my shirt, letting out a masculine growl as my nipple puckered under his attention.

My patience snapped, pushing him up and dragging the shirt over my head. Cool air brushed against the sweat on my skin, my cold nipples warmed by his hot mouth and steady hand over my sports bra. I should have pulled that off too, or offered to shower — god, we were so sweaty — but before I could, he pulled up the hem and latched onto my tight bud.

All thoughts disappeared as I arched into his mouth, weaving my hands into his hair as he licked and sucked. Words evaporated, replaced by whispered curses and plaintive begging. His hips dropped, his cock grinding against my thigh.

I slid a hand between us over his tight thermal pants, inadequate at concealing his arousal. I stroked him over the thin fabric as he let out a needy groan. My hand trailed under the waistband, wrapping around his hard cock.

“Wait,” he moaned, his body not wanting to stop but his mind awakening.

“Wait,” he repeated, reluctantly removing his mouth from my breast.

“Wait,” he panted again, lifting to hover above me.

“Why?” I murmured with a playful squeeze of his shaft.

“It said — this isn’t how we’re supposed to …” He dropped his head to my forehead. I ran my hand along his cock again, kissing the side of his jaw. His arms gave out and his chest dropped into mine, his long underwear rubbing against my tight nipples. “This isn’t — Shit, Grace, I had a plan.”

A surge of joyful laughter bubbled up at how thoroughly he’d thought this through. Only Alexander Clarke would mansplain sex to someone with her hand down his pants.

I smiled against his mouth as I trailed my thumb over the head of his cock. “That’s cute, Alex. Tell me your plan.”

He rolled away and tugged his pants up, then stood to catch his breath. “We need to talk.”

Oh God, I’d read this all wrong.

He hadn’t been nervous in need of seduction. He’d changed his mind.

I’d been in this situation before. After, ‘We need to talk’ came, “You’re a sweet girl, but …’

I pulled down my shirt and scrambled to lean against the headboard, tucking my knees into my chest. He bent over his pile of gear, probably looking for his key to get out.

“You don’t have to let me down easy,” I said, rubbing my hands on my legs.

He straightened. “What are you talking about?”

I tucked my head to rest it on my knee. “We can pretend this never happened and go back to skiing. It happens.”

His eyebrows pinched. “What happens?”

He was really going to make me spell it out?

“You changed your mind. That’s why I had to drag you in from the balcony. You were mentally composing the ‘it’s not you it’s me’ speech.” My shoulders scrunched around my ears.

“I didn’t change my mind, I'm fucking nervous,” he confessed as he folded his arms, then unfolded them and blew out a hard breath. “I’m scared I’m going to hurt you or trigger a flashback. You had one this morning, and you seemed ok so I … but on the elevator, I remembered how tired you were last time and how you wanted to be alone, but what if you wouldn't tell me …”

His hand wrapped around his neck. “So we need to talk before we go any farther. And I need some distance while we do, because I’m having a really hard time keeping my hands off you.”

I inhaled sharply as my trembling hand rose to my mouth.

“I’ve been half hard all day — which is not fun in snow pants, for the record. You’d think the cold weather would help, but then you lean close, or I’d remember how your mouth looked last night while … fuck, I’ve never wanted anyone like I want you.”

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