Page 15 of Once Upon a Frosty Winter

After Hilda goes to the bathroom to clean up, I pull the covers back for her. She climbs onto the bed, and then I bring her body close to mine for her head to rest upon my chest. I’ve never been a cuddler—never cuddled period—and I sense that this is new for her as well. Neither one of us says anything. Our bodies aren’t tense. It should feel weird, foreign, strange, but it’s none of those things. This feels right. I keep waiting for myself to get antsy, but it doesn’t happen.

And when her body falls into a steady rhythm of her chest rising and falling, my own body begins to relax further, until I’m asleep.

* * *

I share a plate of eggs with Hilda and then make my exit. She doesn’t mention our falling asleep together, and neither do I. It was the best sleep of my life, but I refuse to acknowledge it out loud. Instead, I focus on work. I spend most of the morning on work calls and video chat meetings. Old Man Winter’s brand is rising in popularity. Now is the time to push it further to the top and prepare for next winter. Opening a new hotel in a Christmas town would be huge for our company.

I’ve scratched my itch with Hilda. I shouldn’t even be considering her in this—it’s business. Even if I did care about her, which I don’t, I’m not going to settle down, so it doesn’t matter. Any thought of this relationship moving forward is futile.

Most people would assume I won’t commit because I had a horrible previous relationship, a tragic past, or came from a broken home. Nope. I’ve simply never desired more. The idea of being locked down and chained to one person is unpleasant. Nothing about sharing all of my belongings is appealing. When you get right down to it, I’m too selfish for a relationship. I’m one hundred percent committed to myself. My happiness comes first. I’m invested in me.

If my honesty makes me a terrible person, then so be it. More people feel the same way, but they’re hypocrites. They’d rather lie about their feelings, and I think that’s worse. At least I’m not offering half-assed relationships and wasting everyone’s time.

I may be an asshole, but I’m an honest asshole.

Yet I sit here staring at the documents to take the White Estate, and all I can think about is the bedroom with the beautiful woman lying in it. I should be calling my father. I should be on the phone with our attorneys and demanding to have the paperwork completed by next week. I should be thanking Eira for handing over her father’s legacy, not fantasizing about her stepmother.

Fuck.What have I done? I’ve fucked up. I’ve allowed Hilda to get under my skin. I thought having her writhing beneath me would’ve been enough to satisfy my lust. It only fueled the fire more.

My cell lights up. I look over and see her name. I swipe the screen and place the call on speaker. “Hello.” I feign boredom even though my dick is already semi-erect.

“Apparently, you didn’t do a good enough job. I still have an itch.”

Fucking bitch. God, I love her sass.I can’t stop the smile from spreading. “Are you calling because my services are required?”

“You all but guaranteed I’d be fully sated. I woke up and can’t seem to stop thinking about you. My pussy is annoyingly wet. I’ve gone through two pairs of panties.”

All blood has left my brain and is now swelling between my legs. “Sounds serious. I better hurry over. Frost Enterprises does not tolerate unhappy clients.”

“I expect better services, Mr. Frost.”

“I’ll clear my schedule. I’m yours for the rest of the day.”

She ends the call.

ChapterNine

Hilda

I’m drowning in his deep blue eyes. The anticipation of what he’s going to do next is killing me. I’m so hungry for him. Desperate and ready for his touch. Yearning for that sweet release. I’m already breathless, and my pussy is dripping wet with desire.

His fingers finally find their way between my legs. I moan and spread them wider, inviting him to go in farther. “Are you ready for more than my hand?” he murmurs against my ear.

“Yes.”

“Are you ready for my cock?”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Please. Please, Jax.”

His body covers mine in an instant, a very smug smile on his face as he says, “Begging, are we?”

Before I can reply with a smart remark, his lips are on mine and he’s thrusting inside me. We laugh at how animalistic we’re behaving as we roll on the bed. I’m on top and I have to take a moment to just look at him. It’s never been like this. I know he must feel it too, because we both begin to move slower, taking our time exploring each other’s bodies and learning what the other one likes. It’s tender and passionate. The kind of sex that makes you sweaty and still gives goose bumps.

We’re not having sex anymore. We’re making love. I know I should be panicking, but I’m not. I’m simply allowing myself to enjoy this incredible moment.

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