Page 7 of Owning Eva

“I might,” I say, crossing my arms. “Not really my thing.”

“You’ve never gone sledding?”

“Of course I have. Just not recently.”

“Then you’re overdue.” His tempting lips curve into that tiny ghost of a smirk that drives me fucking crazy, and before I can protest, he nods to the top of the hill. “Come on.”

I hesitate, but the challenging glint in his eyes is impossible to resist. With a resigned sigh, I follow him.

* * *

“Okay,” I say, eyeing the sled like it’s a death trap. “How does this work again?”

Eli chuckles, the deep rumble traveling like a caress all over my body. Then he crouches to adjust the sled. “You sit, hold on, and scream if you need to. Simple.”

“Fuck my life,” I mutter, but before I can sit, he grabs my arm.

“Wait.”

His large hands are warm, even through my coat, and his dark eyes lock on mine. “You’re wearing too many layers,” Eli says, his voice dropping by another octave.

I blink, my cheeks heating. “Excuse me?”

“The scarf,” he replies, smirking full-on now. “It’s too long. You’ll choke if it gets caught.”

“Oh.” Embarrassed, I tug it loose and stuff it into my pocket. “Thanks.”

For a brief moment, he doesn’t move, his gaze lingering on me in a way that makes my breath hitch. Then he steps back, his face softening. “All set.”

I sit awkwardly on the sled, gripping the handles tightly. Eli crouches behind me, his huge hands bracketing mine. “Lean with me,” he instructs, his breath warm against my ear.

Before I can argue, we’re flying down the hill. The wind whips past us, carrying my startled laugh as the sled veers wildly fromside to side. Eli’s massive body behind me keeps us steady, and by the time we reach the bottom, I’m breathless with excitment.

“Not bad, Carter,” he compliments me in a teasing voice.

“Not bad?” I glare up at him, still catching my breath. “That was terrifying.”

“You were laughing the whole way.”

I roll my eyes, but the grin tugging at my lips betrays me.

* * *

As we climb back up the hill, I feel a snowball smack my shoulder. I whip around to find Eli standing a few feet away, looking infuriatingly smug.

“Did you just—”

“Yup.”

“Oh, it’s on, hockey boy.”

What follows is an all-out snowball war. I’m outmatched, obviously—Eli’s strength and precision are completely unfair—but I hold my own, ducking behind trees and getting him whenever I get the chance.

By the time it’s over, I’m breathless, soaked, and laughing harder than I have in ages.

“You fight dirty,” Eli says, shaking snow from his hair.

“Only when necessary,” I shoot back, still grinning.

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