Page 64 of Snowbound with the Santas

“You’re a gentle person, Rayne. I’m not. I’m harsh.”

“Because you were a soldier?”

“Partly.” He shifts against me as I clean his wound. “I saw a lot of people die. Part of me died with them, I think. Then I came back here, fucked up and burned, and had to watch Frankie crumple. His brother’s death was… hard.” Archer talks in quick bursts with a tight voice. “So I’m protective. And… the more people I know, the more people I stand to lose.”

“So you act like an asshole?” There’s no real heat in my words as I apply the gauze. “To keep people at arm's length?”

“Maybe.” Archer grunts, then glances down to check my work. With the wound across his ribs, he’ll need to be careful. “Thanks.”

“Wow, a thank you?” I tease. “Next time you need help, just ask me. Although I’m not sure why we had to come here to do it.”

“I wanted to show you the cave,” Archer says as he stands up. “You liked the lights so much, I thought you’d want to see natural ones.”

Our eyes meet, and suddenly, it clicks in my mind. This was a sweet gesture.

Or it was supposed to be, but Archer got injured and his military way of dealing with everything took over. I can’t blame him. I can’t fathom how difficult it must be to go through something like he’s been through and still try to be a regular person afterward.

“I like this,” I say softly, placing my hand in the water and watching the ripples create more light and color. “I like it a lot. Though maybe next time, don’t be such an asshole about bringing me here.”

I turn my head, and suddenly, Archer’s mouth collides with mine. The kiss is so sudden, and I gasp, nearly overbalancing, so I grasp onto the hem of his shirt and pull him toward me. Heisn’t the anchor I expect, though, and I fall backward with him landing on top of me, so I laugh against his lips.

“You know, you don’t have to steal a kiss, either,” I say, gazing up at him when he braces himself on his arms. “I’m happy to kiss you.”

“Thought I was an asshole.”

“You wouldn’t be the first asshole I’ve kissed.”

There’s a flash of something in his eyes, something I can’t quite read, and then he dips down to kiss me again. This time, it’s softer, and I melt into him with a soft sound. He kisses firmly, and yet there’s something almost uncertain about it too. Like he can’t fully trust himself or the situation.

So, I let him lead. Everything else flees my mind when he kisses me deep and skims his tongue into my mouth. If anything, maybe one last fling isn’t a bad thing. If my reality is knocking at the door and I’ll have to return to a life I hate, the least I can do is go with a few sexy memories.

The cold keeps most of our clothes on, but I burn hot when Archer slides his hands into my pants and thrusts two fingers deep inside me. He kisses me continuously, mapping out my upper and lower lips, then stroking my tongue with deep moans rumbling through his chest. His fingers are incredibly skilled, and with just a few strokes and flicks of his thumb, he has me a panting, desperate mess on the ground. I kiss him deeply, run my fingers through his hair, and bite his lower lip the moment he enters me with his thick cock.

Everything is too hot and tight at the same time. Clothing gets in the way, and the cold air against my bare thighs is striking, but I’m desperate. I want to show him that I’m here just as much as I want to get one more taste of this stoic, silent man. He seems to have a similar desire as his hands roam my body where they can reach and each kiss is deep and powerful.

We fuck quick and dirty, letting our bodies say the words we can’t—or won’t—say. I lose myself in the stroke of his cock and the talented fingers that write a love poem over my clit. I can’t breathe from desperation, and it’s never quite enough. He’s not deep enough, not fucking me hard enough.

I vocalize exactly that, and Archer turns into a machine. He pounds every thought and breath out of my body, tearing off our clothes at the same time. I have little concern for the cold when we’re both burning so hot from desire we could stoke our own fire. As he fucks me closer and closer to orgasm, Archer picks me up and holds me in his lap, then he slides into the water, which is surprisingly warm.

From this angle, he can fuck me harder, and I come with a cry to the sparkling, beautiful flurry of light exploding through the water. Archer follows a moment later and hugs me to his warm, broad chest while his cock twitches inside me and he pants harshly against my shoulder.

“Wow,” I breathe when thought returns to my pleasure-addled mine. “Maybe I should call you an asshole more often.”

Archer, to my surprise, laughs roughly and kisses me hard. “Yeah. Maybe you should.”

24

RAYNE

“Frankie?”

Thermos in hand, I ease myself down the small, dug-out path toward the woodshed on the far end of the cabin. In the few days since the storm passed, I’ve developed a routine that brings me a deep sense of peace. We rise early, and Archer leaves to check the fishing traps and set up new ones. Nick tends to the house and the generator to make sure the cold didn’t affect anything during the night, and Frankie cooks and checks on the water pump and firewood.

I make myself busy where I can, often cleaning and helping Frankie with the cooking. However, after a few boiled egg disasters, I’m not sure my actions count as helping. Most of my time is spent pouring my heart into the remaining decorations around the cabin. The tree stands proud in the corner of the lounge in full glittering beauty, and all the lights and tinsel around the ceiling have now been joined with a few wooden statues carved by Frankie. Including a rather adorable Santa Claus.

It’s the most festive I’ve felt in years. After finishing up creating paper snowflakes from some old newspaper, I fill a thermos with tea and take a trip out into the cold to find Frankie.

He’s in the wood shed with his head bowed and his attention focused on a small chunk of wood in one hand. I approach slowly and wait for him to slide the knife away from the wood before I speak.

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