Page 23 of Wedlocked

“A what?” I wondered.

“Take off your glove, Lars.”

I pulled mine off with my other hand because, unlike him, I am not an animal.

Our palms met, and his big, warm fingers wrapped around mine. We shook only once, and then he leaned in and kissed me fast.

“Bet,” he said. “I can already taste your foreskin on my tongue.”

Desire slid through me like hot chocolate on a cold day.

“At least you admit you will lose.”

“Your dick in my mouth? Who’s the loser here?”

I smiled. “Jag älskar dig,” I told him.I love you.

“Jag älskar dig,” he repeated.

His pronunciation was still shit.

“What the hell are you two doing?” Max said, skidding to a stop and spraying a wall of white at us. His ski outfit was completely black, and the goggles on his eyes were so tinted I couldn’t see his face.

“Did you already do a run?” Win accused.

Wes slid to a stop just behind Max. His pants were black, but his jacket was black and white striped and his white goggles had a mirrored reflection.

“If you two went any slower, I’d have to slap an expiration date on your ass.”

“You aren’t authorized to touch Lars’s ass,” Win quipped.

“But he is yours?” I wondered.

Wes shook his head.

“Seriously, what the fuck are you two doing? If you wanted to admire the view, you should have stayed home,” Max bitched.

“We were talking.” Win’s voice was tight.

Max paused, then slid the blacked-out goggles onto his black hat. His eyes went straight to me. “What’d he do?”

I jolted.

Win made a sound. “Fuck off, bro. Like I’d do anything to him.”

“Not you, numb nuts,” Max tossed out, eyes boring into me. “Him.”

I swallowed thickly. Was I just see-through today, or were my friends really good at reading people?

“You can’t just ask that, Max,” Wes told him.

“He’s my brother,” he said as though that were his final answer.

I shifted, not sure what to say.

“We’re not talking about it—” Win started, but my voice cut him off.

“He beat me for being a better skier than him.”

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