Page 58 of Beautifully Complicated

God, I’m still reeling from that. Not just how unbelievably sexy that encounter was, but how unbelievably stupid. Logically, I know the date had a lot to do with it—there wasn’t a single soul in the building the day after Christmas—but crossing that bridge even once makes it all the more likely we’ll do it again before Aiden has his degree in hand.

I turn up the heater in the car as I wait for him to arrive, hoping he remembers to bring me those hand warmer things, and sort of dreading how close he’ll be once he gets in the car.

My restraint is waning. Every day it gets harder not to touch him, but I’ve held firm, never allowing myself to have contact with anything beyond his hand, and even that I’ve staunchly avoided. If I’m being literal, I’m still mostly in compliance with my no touching rule, but damn do I want to.

Having him so close while he was in the throes of ecstasy brought back all sorts of memories I’d been able to push aside so they didn’t constantly tempt me, and now, not only are they back, but I’ve got new ones to go with them.

That beautiful cock, aching and swollen. Long fingers, white at the knuckles from the strength of his grip. Thighs trembling as he punched into his fist.

Dammit, if I’m not careful I’ll end up sledding with a boner.

“Hi.” Aiden throws the door open, a gust of cold air pushing away the heat as he sits in the passenger seat.

Despite the chill, my chest warms at the sight of him.

“Hi,” I reply.

“Well, you’re not a no-show. I guess that means no second thoughts?” He asks as he points me in the direction I’m supposed to go.

“I have plenty of those. Am I willingly going to sit in the cold? Is it wise for a thirty-two-year-old man to slide down a mountain? Should I even be driving right now?”

“The roads are clear.” Aiden points to the white street, leading me to believe we have very different definitions of clear.

“I can’t see the asphalt.”

“Only because the snow is compacted. There’s barely an inch on the street. You act like you’ve never driven in snow before.” He points for me to take the next right.

“It’s been a while,” I mutter as I turn the car, hoping I don’t slide out.

“This is good practice then.”

I choose not to respond so I can concentrate, pulling up to a sparsely filled parking lot about ten minutes later. Since it’s twilight on New Year’s Eve, the bulk of the crowd has already dissipated, leaving us with a virtually wide open hill that we can take over for hours since there are lights overlooking it.

“Here.” Aiden hands me a pair of snow pants. “Put these on.”

“You do realize we’re the only people here without children.” I have to open the door just to have enough room to kick my legs out.

“Stop complaining.” He gets his own pants on then fusses with some sort of tiny white package that he hands to me. “And put one of these in each of your gloves.”

“Why would I—ooh, these are warm.”

“Told you.” He beams. “You’ll be nice and toasty. Come on.”

We grab the sled from the trunk, one of those long, skinny plastic things, and make our way to the top of the hill. Aiden sets it on the relatively flat ground at the top of the slope and kneels down to hold it in place. “Front or back?”

“We’re riding together?”

“Of course.”

“Will we even fit?” Neither of us is overly big, but we’re both hovering just shy of six feet with athletic builds, and the sled looks like it’s built for one.

“Just trust me. Front or back?”

“Back,” I say, reasoning that I might prefer to look at the back of Aiden’s head than whatever obstacle we’re probably going to hit.

Aiden sits toward the front of the sled and gestures for me to climb on behind. Once I’m situated, he drapes my legs over his so they’re more or less on the sled and instructs me to help him push us forward.

It takes a minute, but once we crest the top of the hill gravity takes over and we start to hurl downhill. I say hurl because together there’s a lot of weight on this sled, and nothing to keep us from falling.

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