Page 109 of Out of the Cold

“I can definitely see how this could be fun one day,” she said, a little breathless.

“Some people say skiing’s better than sex.”

Her eyebrows went up. “Are you one of those people?”

“Not after meeting you,” he said, giving her a lascivious grin and planting a kiss on her chapped lips. “Now let’s get you home.”

“I can’t believe even with all the time I spend hiking and snowshoeing, a bunny slope took me down,” she said, climbing into the truck. “I can barely walk.”

“You’re using your muscles differently. You’ll get used to it.”

“Good thing we have a hot tub, but you may have to carry me to it.”

“Whatever you need, hot stuff.”

They drove away from the slopes, through town—which was thronging with tourists—and down the roads they’d both traveled so many times this past year. He still had to catch himself from turning into Len’s driveway from force of habit, but today he remembered his destination was another three miles down the road.

They’d looked at a number of cabins in the fall but had both fallen in love with this one the second they saw it. Though the kitchen was slightly less modern than Len’s, it had everything they could want, including a back deck with a private hot tub and a little outbuilding that housed a sauna.

The mudroom was already a clutter of snowshoes, cross-country skis, and now the skis they leaned in the corner.

“Need some help?” he asked, taking off his own boots, jacket, and snow pants until he was down to his dark blue silk long underwear.

“You should never wear anything but this,” she said, sliding her hands down his chest, then under the hem of his shirt.

“You think?” he said with a smile, nuzzling the spot behind her ear.

She leaned her head against his chest. “Definitely.”

“You gonna get out of all this gear?”

“Too tired.”

“I’ll help you.” Pulling off her hat, he kissed her forehead, then her cold nose.

She was smiling as he unzipped her jacket and hung it on a hook.

“Hold on to me,” he said, crouching down to pull her boots off.

He was planning to build a bench where they could sit to take off their boots, as well as store things. He needed to get on that.

Lucy’s hand settled on his shoulder. “Remember that time you had to undress me, when I wore the dreaded cotton long underwear?”

“Remember? I couldn’t think of anything else for days.

He pulled her snow pants down like he had on that day more than a year ago, and she stepped out of them. He ran his hands up her strong, shapely legs, still covered in her base layer, and wished she were already naked. “At the time, I was too worried about you dying of hypothermia to enjoy it, but later I thought about those sweet breasts and wondered how you’d taste. I thought about the sounds you made when I took you against the wall, and how I wanted to hear you make them again.”

Her fingers were in his hair, pulling him toward her. He could smell her arousal through the silk.

“Lucy.” He pressed his face to her heat, breathing her in. No matter how much he had of her, it was never enough.

She gasped, her knees giving way, and he stood up, swinging her into his arms.

“What are you doing?”

“Showing you what I wanted that day,” he said. “Unless you’re too tired.”

“I’m tired, not dead.”

---