Page 36 of If Only In Our Dreams

“How do you feel about Italian?” I asked, doing my best not to ogle—and failing.

“Delicios-o,” Robin said in what had to be the most horrible Italian accent I’d ever heard.

“Perfect-o.” I offered him an elbow, like a freak—and instead of staring at me like the weirdo I was, Robin took it with mock seriousness. My pulse skittered as we headed toward the front door, his hand gripping me tight.

He groped my bicep a little.

I pretended like I didn’t notice.

Matilda turned a page in her book.

When we stepped outside I realized—belatedly—just how much snow had fallen. I’d been so distracted on the phone with my mother I hadn’t noticed. Thank god, I’d been standing under the awning or the snow on my shoulders would’ve betrayed me.

I would’ve been embarrassed about asking my family for help like I had, and for lying—but there simply wasn’t room in my head for that right now.

Not when the look on Robin’s face soaked up every ounce of attention I had. Crept into the corners of my head, filling every nook and cranny, my head buzzing, my heart warm despite the chill.

There was barely an inch of snow on the ground, and yet Robinstaredat it like he’d never seen anything prettier in all his life.

Like this was one of the world’s seven wonders.

And when he glanced up at me, grin softer than before, a private, giddy thing, I decided right then and there that I would make him smile like that as many times as I possibly could before he went back home, my dignity and dislike of the holidays be damned.

“This is the best day of my life!” I yelled in excitement, watching Bubba slide down what had to be the biggest hill known to man. A cloud of snow plumed behind him, the sled moving so fast all I could catch in the dark was the glint of his blond head. We’d already made a few accidentally horrible snowmen, which sat sentinel behind us, watching his descent.

“It goes faster if there’s more weight,” Miles told me from where he stood to my left, calmly waiting for his turn. He didn’t really like this. At least, not unless he was going down with Trent. But I figured that had more to do with the lumberjack behind him than the actual sledding itself.

“More weight,” I hummed thoughtfully, eyeing Ben where he stood ten or so feet to the left with a sled of his own. His daughters.Twins. Twins, motherfucker! Were dressed adorably in little black snowsuits. They looked like chunky lil goth snowmen, their heads tipped up as he bent low to speak to them.

I wanted to know what he was saying super bad, but didn’t want to be greedy.

He’d taken me to dinner after all. Refused to let me pay. Stopped by his apartment, came down the stairs with his arms full, and forced me into one of his hoodies, a coat, gloves, scarf, and a pair of snowpants that were so fucking big on me I could hardly move.

When he’d been rolling up the hems and trying to shove them into the lips of my boots, he’d promised me he’d get me stuff that fit properly—like this wouldn’t be the first and last time we were doing this.

Like it was his job to take care of me.

And I’d stared at his lovely, red head—and the little whirl of hair at the crown—and tried not to fall head over heels in love with him.

I’d always fallen quick.

It was a curse.

And just as quick, the people I fell for tossed me aside.

It was why I was glad I was only here for a few weeks. Why, despite admitting I liked Ben, I hadn’t made a real move.

Also because I could tell he liked me too. And that was…terrifying. Even though it was mutual.

I’d always liked dudes as much as girls. Sure it had taken me a while to figure that out—but once I had, I’d never gone back. Dicks were hot. It was simply a fact. I loved them. Loved sucking on them. Loved touching them. Loved sitting on them. Loved the way they throbbed sometimes when the guy I was with was really turned on.

Loved when they were soft, and hard, and soft again.

I tended to like my men a little dangerous too. Bigger than me and strong enough to push me around. Unfortunately those kinds of guys were usually assholes.

So…being attracted to Ben was not this earth-shattering, horrible realization. I tried to tell myself I liked him because hehada dick. Because he walked kinda spread out—like his dick was big and he had to accommodate its girth. Tried to tell myself it was a sex thing.

But eventhatfelt like a lie, when I knew the first thing my sleep depravation had taken from me was my fucking libido.

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