Page 106 of Mountain Men Heroes

Huh. Cute, she mused, pushing her glasses up her nose. But she’d take her long johns, thank you very much.

“Make sure to miss that big patch of ice,” Ethan, flicked a thumb toward the middle of their side of the road. “Don’t worry, you can’t miss it. See you at the finish line.” He waved, throwing her a saucy wink.

Game. On.

“Don’t pay attention to Ethan. He’s an idiot.”

“But the ice. I am a magnet for anything slippery, wet or hard.”

His lips quirked up with the same smirk his brother had flashed across his face. “We’ll have to see about that. Just curious, but all in that order?” His words were a dark, husky growl.

Freaking Zahara. She would kill her for this. Right after she popped out that kid.

Ivy groaned. “Just tie us together and let’s get this over with.” She needed to watch her words.

“Yes, ma’am,” he drawled with a tip of his imaginary hat. The worst part. He didn’t even look cold standing there. Dark nipples pebbled against flat disks but that was it.

Large, warm hands parted her thighs and it wasn’t her imagination that he took extra precaution to not slip too high.

Here was a man who was good looking, had a fucking voice that could make her orgasm all on its own, and he was a gentleman.

She put a hand on his solid shoulder and leaned into him a little when she had to lift her leg so he could tie off the knot.

Now tied thigh to thigh, he stood and offered her a hand to her elbow for balance. “That’s not too tight, is it?” His dark gaze lit on her.

“No. Not at all. It should hold us together.” She pressed her hands to her cheeks and her voice held a flicker of flirtation to her own mortification.

Zahara swooped in with her ever perfect timing and handed them a tray filled with small plastic cups the size of Jell-O shots. “Don’t spill any or we lose!”

Damon leaned over and pressed his lips to the shell of her ear. “By the way, those long johns are turning on half the town. He jerked his chin toward the growing crowd.”

A single crack rang out over the crowd and all hell broke loose.

Fact: shit just got real and she was half-naked in front of a ton of strangers.

Two

As a woman who never took a step outside of Texas before today, Ivy’s crash course on a real winter had her insides clenching and her eyebrows nearly frozen to the rims of her glasses. “Holy hell.”

Damon swung his massive leg forward and she either moved her ass or got dragged by the oversized man to the finish line.

“Drink,” he commanded, shoving a plastic shot glass in her hands while his other balanced his side of the tray. It was all she could do to keep up and not lose her grip. They took another step and another, increasing the speed. Faces and voices flashed by and bubbly laughter filled her chest as half of the contents of her glass slipped down her front.

Stings like a thousand needles punched through the worthless barrier of her socks to stab at her feet. Snow sloshed and fanned out but she didn’t let the bite of the cold slow her. His stride ate up two of hers, and she could see he was forced to slow his pace to match her shorter one.

A blow from a gust of wind nearly did them in and threatened to topple their tray, to the gasps of the crowd. “You spill any, we have to go back and start all over again,” Damon warned, eyes zeroed in on the yellow ribbon that fluttered as a marker for the finish line some twenty yards ahead.

She tossed an askance glance in Ethan’s direction. “Damn, that boy can move.” They were gaining on them. “Get it in gear, Savage!”

“Yes, ma’am.” Damon switched hands on the tray and wrapped his left arm around her waist, the rough calluses of his fingers worked through the soft cotton of her long johns and played havoc with her imagination. Between the two stark contrasts of intense warmth and cold, she couldn’t pick between shivering and sweating. Tossing the tray and working herself around him or keeping in step.

Their tied leg made the call for her as Damon set their pace.

Three shots down. Bubbles gurgled in the pit of her stomach and she went back for more before her better judgment slammed into her.

Damon’s palm pressed her close until their sides connected, her long johns to his naked skin.

The simple contact ignited a friction between them that made her question her sanity for the one-hundredth time in the last hour.

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