Page 3 of Spoil
I kneel to inspect her boots. “How do your boots feel? Are they snug? Too tight?”
She winces and bends her knees slightly. “They actually hurt a little.”
With a practiced hand, I flick open the buckles and pull the tab open. I gently cup her calf and pull her foot out of her boot.
“I take it these aren’t your bibs?”
They’re about four inches too long, and the excess was squeezed between her hard plastic boot and her shin. Poor thing. I know that had to hurt.
I look up at her when she doesn’t answer, but she’s looking at the place where my hands are touching her leg. I rub her calf with my thumb gently. A stolen intimate moment. I want to touch her all over. I want to see what’s waiting for me under big, bulky ski clothes. I want to see what freckles and moles are waiting for me to trace with my tongue.
She finally clears her throat and shakes her head ‘no’.
I tug her pants up out of her boots and guide her foot back into them, letting the excess fall on the outside of the boot.
“Your boots should never hurt. They should just feel like a tight hug.” I go about the same procedure with her other leg, letting my contact linger longer than I probably should.
I don’t want to creep her out or overtly hit on her while she can’t escape me for the next eight hours. But I don’t want topass up an opportunity with this woman. And currently, nothing in her body language has been anything but encouraging. She’s shy, flustered, and overwhelmed by the opportunity to ski, but she’s not tense, or nervous, or flighty.
I walk her through her equipment, how to get her boots in and out of her bindings, and how to hold her poles.
And then lead her to the magic carpet.
Chapter three
Penelope
When Daniel kneeled in front of me and held my calves, as if they were something precious and delicate, I nearly went up in flames. God, I hope he thinks the pink on my cheeks is from the cold. I’d be mortified if he knew how much that simple touch affected me. My mouth went dry, and the world narrowed to only where he was touching me.
He’s patient and easy-going as I walk in my boots and bindings, and I follow him dutifully towards a small slope with an enclosed carpeted escalator-looking thing. Small children hop on it effortlessly, while others, with and without their parents, glide down the slope from the top.
Before I can step onto it, though, Daniel’s in front of me, maneuvering effortlessly in his skis. He looks like he was born skiing, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, whereas I feel clumsy and awkward.
“Let’s make sure this is tight,” he says, gripping the strap of the helmet I forgot I was wearing and tugging me towards him gently. His eyes linger on my mouth momentarily before dropping to the strap. He tugs off his gloves and leans in closerto inspect it. He’srightthere. His plump lips, his strong nose, the dimple in the middle of his chin. I could just tip forward and kiss him.
Which is a wildly inappropriate thought. He’s myski instructor, not my boyfriend. Sure, he’s been a little flirty and charming, but I’m sure he does that to make his students comfortable with him instantly. I don’t know what it is about this man, but his sheer presence is relaxing. His confidence, his competence, the easy way about him that he has, are comforting.
I remain still so he can finish adjusting the strap, but I stare out at the snow behind him, so I don’t think any more wildly inappropriate things. Like how I wished he’d have trailed his hands up my calf and to my thigh, or how kissable his lips look, or how wildly attracted to him I am. I bet his confidence and competence would lend themselves to the bedroom, too.
Oh, God. An image of him hovering over me, driving into me, has my breath quickening and my eyes squeezing shut.Stop fantasizing about your ski instructor, Nell!You’re objectifying the man beingpaidto spend time with you.
I blow out a long breath and open my eyes to find him peering at me curiously. I shift my weight uncomfortably.
“Alright, when you load onto the magic carpet, inch forward and bend your knees until the carpet takes you. I’ll be right behind you when you get off at the top.”
I nod and do as he says. It’s loud in the tunnel, so we don’t talk, but I look behind me and he gives me a nod and a smile.
I shuffle out of the way at the top, and he joins me a second later. He gives me the rundown of pizza versus French fries and tells me to follow behind him as he makes large, swooping turns down the bunny slope.
I do as he says, and the feel of gliding down a snow-covered mountain fills me with excited buzzing in my stomach. Mylegs are burning by the time I get to the bottom, but Daniel’s beaming.
“Good job! You did so well on your first time,” he says, clapping me on the shoulder proudly.
My smile grows until my shyness kicks in. We’re just standing on the side of a mountain, smiling at each other. His praise makes my heart sing at the same time that my stomach swoops low.
His smile widens, and I swear he knows what his praise does to me.
“Let’s come down a few more times, and then we can hit the big slopes,” he says, motioning toward the magic carpet again.
