Page 46 of Snowbound
"What? Are you serious?"
I reach for the soap again. Her skin is flushed, her breathing shallow. I quickly shed my clothes, then shift the stool behind her, lift her gently, and set her down between my legs.
Now I'm in the tub, too, water sloshing as we settle.
Her bare back presses against my chest. Her eyes rake over me—possessive, hungry—and fuck, I love that.
"We should have a do-over," I whisper into her ear.
"A what?"
“I got eggnog. Spiked eggnog."
She laughs. “My god, you’re right. We were both drinking rum and eggnog that night, remember?"
“You thought you were the Queen, didn’t you?”
She bursts out laughing. "I did?"
"Yeah. So did I."
I smirk. "I still like it, you know. Eggnog and rum." I nod to the fridge. “And we have some."
"Perfect," she says, her voice soft. "Let’s do it."
I rinse her off and wash her hair, tilting her head back and lathering it gently. This one smells like sugar cookies.
"Mmm, that’s delicious," she says as I rinse the suds away. I like the smell too. It’s nostalgic. Innocent.
After toweling off, we head to the front room, wrapped in thick terry cloth, still damp and flushed, the fire roaring beside us.
I pour us each a glass of rum and eggnog, heavy on the rum.
"Ready for a do-over?" I ask.
"Yes," she says, curling up beside me on the rug. “Do I have to be awkward and gangly?”
I snort. “Do I have to have garlic breath from your mother’s pasta?”
“Owen,pleasedo not mention my mother right now,” she says with a groan, but she’s laughing, even while grimacing.
We clink our glasses and drink. I watch her lick off her eggnog mustache.
“Do you still build model cars?” she asks.
I look away and shrug. “Haven’t in a while. I had a girlfriend who told me they were childish and it was time to grow up.” I sigh. “Stupid how we internalize that shit, eh?”
“Yeah,” she says, taking another huge sip of her eggnog. “Jake told me I needed to start wearing makeup like a grown-up.” She sips again. “All the while, he was fucking another woman and didn’t have the balls to break up with me.”
My fingers tighten around the glass. I take another drink.
“Dick.” I sip again.
“Totaldick.” She upends the rest of her glass and leans back.
“I like you without makeup,” I whisper. I tug a lock of her hair, letting my gaze roam over her pretty, pert tits and fullhips. I remember the way she tasted when I ate her out for breakfast.
I want her again. And again.And a-fucking-gain.
