Page 13 of Never Been Snow Lucky

“Does your wrist feel any better?” I asked with a cocky grin.

“Much.” She returned my smile, her cheeks still filled with that pretty pink color. “My orgasm did more good than all of the ibuprofen I’ve taken so far.”

I wagged my brows. “And unlike the pain pills, I have a never-ending supply of orgasms. You want another, just let me know, and I’ll give it to you.”

Heat flared in her eyes again, and she bit her bottom lip. “What about you?”

My reaction to Iris was more explosive than the dynamite I used for avalanche control. I pressed her right palm against my rock-hard cock. “As much as I’d love for you to help me take care of this, that’s gonna have to wait at least another day. Your well-being is my number one priority. If your wrist improves as much over the next twenty-four hours as it has already, then it’s on.”

9

IRIS

Starting my Christmas Eve off with a mind-blowing orgasm given to me by the sexiest man I’d ever known had set a high bar for the rest of the day. One that was easily met when I learned that Jack didn’t have any pressing business today since all of the ski trails were closed and the inn’s guests were safely tucked away inside until the storm passed. I got to have my very own ski patroller to myself all day, who made sure that I didn’t overdo it with my wrist.

Unwrapping the bandage, he peered down at my arm. “It’s looking better already. The swelling has gone down even more, and the bruising isn’t too bad. Where’s your pain level at?”

“Around a three, and I’m due for more ibuprofen, so that’s basically unmedicated.”

“Fantastic,” he murmured, shooting me a satisfied grin. “You’ll be back to normal in no time at all.”

That was my hope…and not just because having a sprained wrist sucked.

Having Jack go down on me this morning had been amazing, but I wanted more. And that wasn’t going to happen until he thought I was recovered enough for a little physical activity ofthe horizontal kind. If babying my wrist was the price that I had to pay to make that happen—while he basically waited on me hand and foot—it was a sacrifice I was more than willing to make.

Wiggling my arm, I smiled back at him. “I guess you’d better get me wrapped back up so we can make cookies.”

He did as I requested, but when I went to open the fridge, he stopped me. “No cookie baking until you take those meds. And while they’re in the oven, ice your wrist again.”

I gave him a sassy salute with my good hand. “Aye aye, captain.”

He shook his head with a chuckle. “Remind me to tell Gavin that I’ve been promoted to captain the next time he calls to check in.”

I giggled at the thought of his boss’s reaction to that request. Although I hadn’t met him yet, I did chat a little bit with him and his wife when he called a couple of hours ago. They were super cute together, and their kids were downright adorable. But I couldn’t picture Gavin calling Jack captain. At least not with a straight face.

“Next thing you know, he’d be ordering you to grow out your hair and wear a headscarf and take a vacation to the Caribbean.”

He quickly caught onto my joke about the famous movie pirate with the same first name and added, “Why not? I already found treasure that’s better than silver and gold, mate.”

Those butterflies that only swirled in my belly for him took flight again at the meaningful look that accompanied his words. “You make a very convincing pirate. Maybe we should do a few treasure-themed cookies.”

“Whatever you want, angel.”

My lips curved into a grin of pure feminine satisfaction as I reached into the freezer to grab one of the ice packs that he’d put in there. Then I took a couple of pills while he got out everythingwe needed for the cookies. While I preheated the oven, he dug through the selection of holiday-themed cutters.

Snuggling into his side while I took in the options, I giggled. “Christmas trees, angels, and stars don’t really fit the pirate vibe, but I bet we could turn some of the gingerbread men shaped cookies into swashbucklers.”

“Good call.”

The dough was already rolled into convenient sheets, so it was easy for us to cut out the shapes. We worked as a team with me pressing the metal shape into the dough and Jack peeling it off the tray. Once enough for a dozen cookies were transferred to the cookie sheet, he popped it into the oven, and I set the timer.

There was still lots of dough left. “How many cookies can you eat?”

“Can or should?” he joked. “Because there’s a big difference in my answers.”

“It’s Christmas Eve, so I vote that calories don’t count today.”

“I like how you think.” He brushed his lips against mine. “We better make another dozen so you can have at least a few.”

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