I pulled down my shirt and scrambled to lean against the headboard, tucking my knees into my chest. He bent over his pile of gear, probably looking for his key to get out.
“You don’t have to let me down easy,” I said, rubbing my hands on my legs.
He straightened. “What are you talking about?”
I tucked my head to rest it on my knee. “We can pretend this never happened and go back to skiing. It happens.”
His eyebrows pinched. “What happens?”
He was really going to make me spell it out?
“You changed your mind. That’s why I had to drag you in from the balcony. You were mentally composing the ‘it’s not you it’s me’ speech.” My shoulders scrunched around my ears.
“I didn’t change my mind, I'm fucking nervous,” he confessed as he folded his arms, then unfolded them and blew out a hard breath. “I’m scared I’m going to hurt you or trigger a flashback. You had one this morning, and you seemed ok so I … but on the elevator, I remembered how tired you were last time and how you wanted to be alone, but what if you wouldn't tell me …”
His hand wrapped around his neck. “So we need to talk before we go any farther. And I need some distance while we do, because I’m having a really hard time keeping my hands off you.”
I inhaled sharply as my trembling hand rose to my mouth.
“I’ve been half hard all day — which is not fun in snow pants, for the record. You’d think the cold weather would help, but then you lean close, or I’d remember how your mouth looked last night while … fuck, I’ve never wanted anyone like I want you.”
I wanted to say something smart, or reassuring, or sexy … but the only word that came was, “Oh.”
He blinked, waiting for more, then his lips parted. “But you thought …”
I could feel his question, wondering why I would think he was leaving, not realizing that whenever I let anybody get close, whenever I showed them the real me, they left.
And he’d already left me once without notice.
And he was going to leave me again in a few days.
Mercifully, his mouth closed and he cleared his throat.
“I’m sorry, I should have been clearer, but my head was …” He picked up his ski jacket from the floor. “I stopped because I wanted these.”
He fumbled in the pocket and tossed lube and condoms on the bed. “Not that I assume, or expect that we — I wanted to be ready.”
My legs unfurled. “You’ve been carrying these all day?”
“I packed the lube this morning, in case …“ His cheeks flushed and that crooked grin rose. “And found the condoms in your glove compartment.”
Yeah, I definitely wasn’t going to tell him that Mallory stashed them there. She handed out condoms like a dentist hands out toothbrushes.
Their presence buoyed my confidence, remembering her advice, ‘Have fun, be safe, guard your heart and don’t expect forever.’
Have fun. This was supposed to be fun.
I tried to slough off my hesitation. So what if he was leaving?
I was in the bed of the hottest man I’d ever seen. I was putting all my abandonment issues on display, yet he was …
He watched my gaze drop to the bulge in his thermal pants — yep, still hard. His hand clenched in restraint.
“And you called me the optimist,” I teased to lighten the mood.
“Apparently you’re rubbing off on me."
“Or at least you hope I will,” I answered with a shy smile, and his grin widened. “So, um … what do we need to talk about?”
“I told you, I have a four step plan,” he said, heated gaze running over my body. “Step one: Define a goal that benefits all parties.”
I blinked in disbelief at his negotiation steps, then held out my arms to indicate the lodge. “I’m in your bed, haven’t you already won?”
“What better opportunity for a win-win?” he said with a smug grin. My mouth curved up at his cockiness as my confidence built. “My goal is to make you come. Multiple times, if you let me.” My breath hitched, my temperature rising even without him touching me. “Can we define that as a joint goal?”
“Yeah,” I rasped, smoothing my messy braids.
“Step two: Set ground rules. Anywhere you do or don’t want me to touch?”
“Sometimes it can, um, take me a while.” I smoothed out the fabric of my shirt. “People get annoyed when I can’t tell them how to …”
His jaw clenched. “That leads to step three: Troubleshoot and find alternatives. Tell me what feels good, I adjust when it’s not.”
My mouth went dry so I licked my lips, his gaze lingering on my mouth. “What’s step four?”
“Implementation of our agreement,” he said, finally crawling across the bed, leaning over me to kiss me, his hand cupping my cheek.
Then, my stupid, annoying, mortifying stomach chose that moment — that moment! — to let out the loudest growl of hunger ever.
