Page 46 of You, Me, & Après-Ski
“Frankie!” But a nervous laugh escaped me. I hadn’t wanted to tell her anything, but one look at my face when I’d walked in the door and she’d known something was up. Frankie was a bloodhound for gossip and a lockbox for my secrets—and I really needed someone to talk to.
“And that was without him even touching you. Imagine if he got his hands all over you.” Frankie waggled her eyebrows as she spritzed another pair of boots.
A dull ache throbbed between my legs. “Believe me. That’s one thing I can’t stop thinking about.”
I was surprised it even happenedoncewith Nolan. My anxiety made orgasms difficult; my brain would never shut up long enough to let me enjoy a moment of pleasure. On top of that, I had performance anxiety, always worrying about if it felt good for the other person instead of if it felt good forme. Which, of course, had led to a lifetime of unsatisfying sexual encounters. The only orgasms I’d ever had were ones I’d given myself.
But last night wasn’t because of my own touches—it was because of Nolan.His demanding tone, his filthy words, the way he looked at me like I was the sun after years of darkness…I had feltpowerful.Beautiful. Desired. It was a dangerous feeling. Dangerous, because now that I’d felt it, Icravedit.
“But it definitely shouldn’t happen again, not while the resort is crawling with reporters. And uh, there’s also the fact that he’s engaged.”Even though it’s fake.But that wasn’t my secret to tell. I still hadn’t wrapped my head around the whole thing.
“True, your face is as transparent as a flashing neon billboard. One look at you in Nolan’s vicinity and everyone will know you’ve seen each other naked.”
I chucked a pair of old hand warmers at Frankie, which she caught, to my annoyance.
“So what happens now?” she said, juggling the hand warmers.
While Nolan was free to…see me, or whatever, he still came with a bucket of problems—namely, the paparazzi, the tabloids, the vindictive Keller and Sharpe families… But I couldn’t get into that with Frankie, so I said, “We’re just lusting after each other. It’s not like he has actual romantic feelings for me. Nothing real could ever happen between us.” At my last words, I shoved a pair of poles into their holding barrel with a little more force than necessary. That much, at least, was true.
Posting a hip against the ratty wooden counter and crossing her arms, Frankie ducked down to give me one of her big sister looks. “Are you sure it’s just about sex? I’ve never seen you like this.”
As I formulated a response, I gripped the next set of poles until my fingers turned white.
“I knew it,” said Frankie with a grin. “Tell him how you feel.”
“Estás loca?I don’tfeelanything.”
“Well, then tell him all about the nothing you feel and see if he feels nothing too. And you can work through the nothing of it together.”
Scoffing, I put the poles in their place, much as I wished I could do with my emotions. Telling Nolan I wanted to explore things with himfor realwould open me up to an inevitable crushing rejection. He would never leave Cressida, and I would never expect him to. It waseasier to keep him at a careful distance—or, it had been before last night got me all jumbled up. God, I wanted to go home and hide in my room.
But then a gut-wrenching realization hit me.
“Oh my god, we live in the same house. With his fiancée. I orgasmed in front of him,becauseof him, and now I’m just supposed to go back to living in his house like nothing ever happened?” I slumped into a rickety chair. How was I even supposed to act around him and Cressida?
“Did he say he wanted to pretend like nothing ever happened?”
“We didn’t discuss it,” I hedged. I wasn’t sure if Nolan would be okay with me clueing Frankie in on his fake engagement, so I distracted her. “Just promise me you’re still in for tonight? Don’t make me face Cressida’s Christmas-palooza on my own.”
“Oh, I am so there. Wouldn’t miss the chance to drink some fancy booze and watch you turn into a tomato of bright red embarrassment all night long.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Any time.”
“Do you think they give you fancy pajamas at rich people sleepovers? I’ve always wanted a pair of monogrammed silk jammies,” Frankie said as she trudged beside me through the fresh-fallen snow toward Nolan’s house.
Snorting, I said, “Cressida does seem like the type.” But inside, I was a hurricane of nerves. Did Cressida know that I knew her secret? I really should have done a better job interrogating Nolan over coffee this morning.
“Where’s Nolan?” Frankie asked as we mounted the shoveled front steps.
“He’s staying in the lodge. Knowing Nolan, he’ll probably spend the evening drinking scotch with Hugh.”
“Dude’s got a man crush. Actually, both of them on each other, now that I think about it.”
As I reached for the doorknob, it twisted underneath my hand and Nolan stepped outside with a rakish grin. “Hugh is handsome,” he said, “but he’s not my type.” He pinned me with a heated gaze, stealing my breath.
Frankie watched us with an openly bemused expression. “That’s pretty clear.”
