Page 19 of The Santa of the Mountain

Cole launches to his feet. “Hang tight,” he says, heading straight to the front door.

Where does he keep his ice?! A few seconds later when he returns with an icicle, I get my answer. “This should get the job done.”

Get the job done? What job is he talking about with a thing this massive? I thought it looked like the size of a candy cane in his hands but it’s hardly smaller than my wrist. But I don’t have time to complain. My mouth is on fire so I snatch it and stick it into my mouth, relishing the frosty relief it brings, albeit with slight jaw discomfort. Unfortunately, it doesn’t last long because my tongue is stuck to the icicle.

“Cahhh,” I moan, shuddering as I turn and look for him. He’s rushing back to me with a cup of something as I continue whimpering, wondering what I did in my past life to deserve this day. “Ih tuck,” I mutter, adding “Ah tuhn,” as I point to my tongue, hoping that it will clarify my situation.

And my situation is clear. My virginity will remain safely intact into the foreseeable future. What. Is. WRONG WITH ME?!

“Easy,” Cole says, threading his fingers through my hair. “Lean back.”

I tilt my head back, watching Cole out of the corner of my eye as he raises the cup. “Should’ve warned you. Can’t tell you how many times me and my brother’s got our tongues stuck to icicles. Sully had his tongue stuck to a metal downspout for a good half an hour before my mother found him. Not the smartest brother of the bunch,” he adds, sighing.

I laugh but then cringe because it’s making it all the more painful as drool spills out both corners of my mouth. Is this what blowing a snowman feels like?

“Here comes the water,” Cole says, tipping some into my mouth. It hits my tongue and I can feel the icicle’s frosty grip on my tongue melt. A few more seconds and I’m free, taking in deep breaths as I wipe my slobber from my face.

Forget a Christmas miracle. All I want for Christmas is to crawl into a hole and die. “I think I’m giving up food for my New Year’s resolution. Everything to do with eating and drinking.”

“I could spoon-feed you like a baby,” Cole says, stroking the back of my head.

I laugh and then cringe because everything hurts. “I mean, I basically look and act the part now. I can’t talk or eat. I’m wearing clothes made for someone five times my size. Give me a few more minutes and I’m sure I’ll either forget how to walk or find some way to maim myself.”

“I wouldn’t mind taking care of you,” he says in a voice so gruff I feel it more than hear it. There’s as much weight to it as his fingers threaded through my hair. Playing with it. Letting strands fall through his thick fingers as he stares at me.

I swallow hard as my nipples pebble. My pulse quickens and then slows as it pools into an irresistible throb between my legs. Am I turned on by a man telling me he’d take care of me because I clearly can’t take care of myself? Yes. I shouldn’t be but I am. And the incessant throbbing isn’t letting me forget it.

“Good to know,” I say, finally. And then, “I’m not usually this helpless you know. I have a career. An apartment. Bills that I pay on time. I have excellent credit.”

He continues playing with my hair silently as a smile forms on his lips. “An independent woman,” he rasps. “Who can brave a blizzard most mountain men never would and come out alive. I admire it.” He swallows. “I admire you.”

Nerves flutter in my core. It’s getting a little harder to breathe with Cole so close, saying things I’ve wanted to hear from lips I’m wanting to kiss. How in the world could a man like this, living in a place like this, understand my wants and needs so well?

His intense gaze moves from mine, and for a brief moment, I think I’ll have a reprieve from the tension that’s been building between us. But then his eyes land on my lips, and I swear I can feel them tingle.

“How’s your tongue?”

The tension in my body coils tighter and his fingers, now grazing the back of my skull, are doing nothing to ease it.

“A little better,” I breathe. “Is it bad?” I ask, sticking my tongue out.

Cole’s fingers stop as his eyes widen, and a small guttural sound rolls off his tongue. Did I just fluster the unflappable mountain man?

He swallows. Shifts next to me. And then finally regains his steely reserve. “Looks good. But if it’s still tender, I could kiss it better,” he says, knocking me completely off-kilter.

I’m not sure what I was expecting but it wasn’t that. And the next words out of my mouth are even more unexpected.

“If you think it would help.”

The throbbing between my legs seems to think so. Every nerve ending in my body is in agreement as well. And then I stick out my tongue like I’m about to catch a snowflake.

“I do,” Cole rasps, wrapping one hand around the side of my neck, thumb brushing my jawline as he leans in.

I can’t believe this is happening. That Iaskedfor this. Any trace of this being a dream or some blizzard-induced hallucination has been shattered. And as soon as Cole’s lips press against my tongue, I’m obliterated.

Sparks. Bright lights. My mind and body feel like it’s been lit up like a Christmas tree, and I can’t help but whimper. But it’s over too soon.

He pulls his lips away from my needy tongue, and I damn near jump onto his lap and thread my fingers through his hair and claim a second helping.

---