Page 133 of Snowed In

Holy shit. Did I say that out loud?

“My mouth says things in the bedroom without asking permission from my brain first,” I stammer. “Not everybody likes it.Idon’t even like it. Just… just to warn you.”

I’m treated to an intrigued smile, caged in now by two beautiful arms on either side of my shoulders. “Marshall,” he prefaces, dropping a kiss on my mouth, “remember what I said. Just be yourself. I’m not a good talker, so I know how it feels to worry about everything you say. I don’t want us to have to think about what we’re going to say to each other.”

That’s… sweet. Truly.

“Um, you may regret that.” I shouldn’t bring it up, but better a replay than new embarrassment. “Did you hear any of the things Isaid when I was, um, in the sleeping bag with you that night at the cabin?” I ask, gingerly stroking the smooth skin of his shoulders.

“Yes,” he breathes, his eyes looking like they’re smoldering.

His palm dives under my shirt, drawing it up to my armpits, forcing me to either accommodate his plan or stay still and look awkward. My face heats, tugging my sweater over my head, knowing everything underneath is now on display; my pasty skin, chaotic chest hair, and very un-sculpted stomach. His palm, however, glides reverently over my body as his chest rises and falls, looking down at where he touches.

I didn’t know it was possible to feel sexy until now. Ronny has somehow managed that feat with his gaze and touch.

“It was all I could do not to touch you while trying to wake you up,” he confesses, slinking his hand into my boxers.

His touch over my bare hip sends a shudder through me. I stare in wonder at the complete lack of bullshit about him. It’s like watching dominoes fall, replaying all our moments together. I didn’t see it before, but I do now. Ronny is truly, over-the-top into me.

“I forgive you for disappointing me,” I rasp, lifting my hips and shoving my clothes down. My hands are still trembling, but not from self-doubt this time as I slide them under Ronny’s waistband, discovering the sleek skin of his ass. Dragging the elastic over his hips, I hold back a moan at the feel of his cock bobbing free and slapping into mine. “Now, for old time’s sake, give me your body heat to make it up to me.”

He melts onto me with a happy sigh, sharing more of his exquisite taste. It’s been so long since I’ve been skin-to-skin with a man, but that’s not why it feels so wonderful. Ronny and me. I dreamt it, but I’d never thought it was a possibility. Each of his breathy moans set off a burst of fireworks in me as we writhe, discovering each other’s mouths, haphazardly kicking free of our pants.

He mumbles nonsensical declarations with every touch, every kiss.

‘Can’t believe you’re really here.’

‘So glad you showed up.’

Combined with the way he’s caressing every inch of my body, it’s an ego boost for the ages. I forgive him for every stupid, awkward thing he ever said. I forgive myself for wearing blinders and a giant chip on my shoulder.

Reaching between us, I find what stabbed my thigh in the sleeping bag and stroke it. Can someone’s cock be made to fit your hand perfectly?

“Whittle me,” I demand.

He groans, head popping up to pin me in his surprised gaze. Fuck. I warned him about my mouth.

Panting, he sits back, making me feel cold and mortified all at once. I’m such an idiot. He’s not Lumberjack. It’s not like any man would actually like the stupid shit I say in my fantasies. Be myself—is he freaking kidding?

Leaning over the side of the bed, he wrenches open his nightstand drawer and produces a bottle of lube and a condom, though. “I wanted to take you on some dates first, I swear,” he says sheepishly, glancing at his supplies.

Dates? Ronny wanted to date me?

“But if you’re going to talk like that, I don’t think I can help myself,” he adds. “Are you sure? Because I don’t need this. I mean, I can wait. You’re worth waiting for. I don’t want to screw this up.”

Shut.

The fuck.

Up.

Scrambling up into a sitting position, I snag his supplies, setting a world record for how fast I get him suited up. The lube makes a juicy sputter noise as I squeeze the bottle in my eagerness to lather him up. He holds still like a good lumberjack. I’ll probably wake up and find this wasn’t real, but that’s a tomorrow problem.

“No. You need it,” I assure him, pulling him back down to the mattress with me and lifting my knees.

Ineed it. Right now.

He doesn’t fully settle his hips between my legs, however. Instead, I feel his slicked-up fingertip circling my entrance. I’m delighted to discover more of Ronny’s manners, but he obviously has no clue how many times this past week I’ve tried fucking his charming Christmas Eve behavior out of my system with my dildo.

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