Page 23 of Snowbound with the Santas

Holy shit.

He’s built like a truck, with arms that could surely circle me twice. His brown eyes are nearly hidden, and his brow is pulled down low. Heat flushes through my body as he looks me over.

“What are you doing?” he asks, and the gravel of his voice is much deeper. He’s not been awake long.

“I needed the bathroom,” I say. My voice trembles faintly, and I have to fight the urge to reach out and touch the gorgeous muscle before me.

“You shouldn’t be putting weight on that leg.”

I narrow my eyes. “What, was I supposed to piss in my room?”

Archer’s eyes snap back up to mine and lock on with such force that it takes my breath away.

Then, without a single word, he suddenly leans down and scoops me right up into his thick arms.

I’d be indignant if he wasn’t so incredibly warm and I wasn’t speechless at being pressed against his broad chest.

They really have a thing for picking me up and doing it themselves, huh?

Archer carries me back to my bedroom in silence, but I don’t mind it. The weight off my leg is nice, and his warmth soaks in through my clothes, chasing away the lingering chill from the tap water.

Once in my room, he sets me down on the bed and then moves to the window, drawing the curtains closed with one swift pull.

“Keeps the heat in,” he states gruffly.

“Thanks.” My heart beats nervously. There’s something so intimidating about him. He doesn’t carry a gentle aura like Nick and Frankie do, and carrying me here almost seems like a hassle even though it was his choice. Maybe he has a problem with me as a person?

My lips part to ask just that, but Archer turns and as he’s striding out the room, a painful sight takes my voice away.

His entire broad back is covered in a twisted, old burn scar from his shoulders all the way down to the small of his back.

He leaves without a word and firmly closes my door.

What the hell happened to him?

9

RAYNE

Asweet burst of birdsong pulls me from my slumber, and I crack open one eye. Warm sunlight trickles in through the netting and a single gap in the curtain, painting an array of soft patterns on the wall.

I’m at peace.

With several blankets weighing me down and warmth built up from sleeping, there’s no chance I’ll be moving until I literally have no choice. Plus, I was having an amazing dream, and the tail end of it lingers in my mind.

Rolling over slowly, the pain in my thigh is dulled and distant, so I barely give it a second thought.

I’d been dreaming of Frankie. Or Nick. Or maybe even Archer. In my dream, it was hard to distinguish since they all melted into the same hunky, thick man helping me. Touching me.

I shove my face into my pillow with a soft moan and slide one hand through the sheets. This early in the morning, on the cusp of waking and dreaming, the sheets feel so much softer against my skin. The warmth is as enticing as their touches, andthe press of the sheets against my shoulders once again becomes Frankie’s hands.

Strong and powerful, yet so gentle as they flex against my skin and trail down my back. I follow them in my mind’s eye, enjoying the slight roughness from his fingertips. He said he was a forest ranger, so he’s bound to have real working man hands.

A shiver trickles down my spine and my hips shift against the bed.

Frankie’s hands morph into Nick’s and they caress my thigh with firm gentleness. He scooped me up like I weighed nothing, and the sheer mass of muscle that he carries is mouth-watering.

What would it feel like to have those tender, strong hands around my waist, holding me in place while he fucks into me with enough strength to make my teeth chatter?

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