Page 140 of Let It Snow
"I was scared I ruined everything, Snow. That I broke something that was growing between us naturally, and we could never go back to that ease, that innocence we had."
He opens his eyes again, pupils blown wide, lips slightly parted.
"It’s hard to live under the same roof with you and still feel this space between us that’s hard to breach."
"Agreed. But I needed to give you this space. I want you to want… us. To be sure. I’m aware that I come with extra baggage, the kids. The decision to step into it has to be entirely yours, something you’ve really thought through. I didn’t want to rush it."
I can see how much effort it costs Summer to speak, but not because his mutism has kicked in. So I lift my hand and brush his cheek. Summer lets out a shaky exhale and blurts,
"I came back for you, Snow. I came back because I want to be with you. And for the kids too." His voice cracks, his eyelids squeeze shut. "At the airport I was trying to pull myself together so I could ask you to come with me, to introduce you to my parents, but with my stupid, blocked-up mind, with that damned heat recovery, I couldn’t put a single sentence together."
I just gently stroke his cheek as he fights with his own energy and pushes out trembling blue waves.
"You wrote you live in a basement and don’t have much to offer me, but the same goes for me, you know? I’m the same. So… private. And that’s exactly what I love about you! That you’re not," he waves his hand vaguely around us, "like all of them. We fit better than you think."
I don’t let him finish. I lean in, and my lips graze his. Summer makes a muffled sound, half relief, half hunger. His aura surges, emotions spilling out until the entire room seems to thrum with energy.
"I’m so tired of nothing in my life ever being normal. But the worst part is that half of what could’ve been normal, I sabotaged myself. I let small things poison me. Yet you… when I’m near you, it changes. Everything settles into place."
Two tears slip down his cheeks, and I wipe them away with my thumbs. My fingers linger, though, sliding lower across his delicate collarbones, brushing over the smooth glands of his neck.
Summer holds his breath.
"Will you mark me, Snow? Will you make me yours?"
"I will, Summer."
Summer exhales softly. His eyes stay shut, but his hands rise to rest at the back of my neck.
"Can we bury all the problems, all the things that happened before… erase them… through sex?"
I can hardly keep from smiling.
"Of course, Summer. Sex can be almost like drinking booze together, it helps to soften the edges, it makes things…"
"Easier?"
I fill my lungs, still fighting the laugh pressing at my lips.
"I wouldn’t say easier, but definitely more enjoyable."
"And the hangover only hits the next day, right? Which means we don’t have to think about it until then."
"Exactly. But hey, let’s stay hopeful. Maybe there won’t be a hangover at all."
For a moment, we just look at each other.
I lean over him slowly, deliberately shifting the tone from frantic fucking to something more tender, sensual, because I know this is what Summer craves.
A part of him has been starved for this, for lovemaking rather than just primal release. I felt it in his aura during his heat, in the whispers of his thoughts. Now, it spills from him like delicate streams of honey-pink energy, rising from the depths of his chest and mind, reaching for me.
With soft, featherlight kisses, I trace lines along his jaw, neck, his collarbones, and his chest, brushing against his hardened, rose-pink nipples just enough to spark tiny bursts of pleasure, their sensitivity flaring under my touch. I shower him with pecks, dozens of them, fleeting as a breeze, and Summer melts into it, arching sweetly beneath me. Low, vibrating purrs escape him, iridescent, shimmering like opal, drifting through the air similar to wispy clouds.
I play those strings, coaxing out sweet notes, weaving a serenade of pleasure through Summer’s senses.
"I want to… see…" Summer begs, and I let him, of course.
His wide eyes lock onto my body, onto my tattoos pulsing in time with my breath, with my arousal. He lifts a hand, tracing the thin streams of energy stretching between his fingers and my skin, shimmering like silk threads.
