“You know we could ditch this whole skiing adventure and go straight to the massage,” Crew whispers huskily, bending down to steal a kiss from my mouth as I jolt back to reality. “I can see it on your face, Hudson. You want it so bad. I bet your panties are drenched right now…just thinking about last night, knowing that was only the tip of the iceberg.”
His warm breath dances across my face and a shiver trickles down my spine, my body intuitively responding to his every word and touch. Closing my eyes, I inhale a much needed lungful of crisp, clean air, praying I don’t appear as emotionally exposed as I feel.
“Anticipation,” I reply softly as my lids flutter open, somehow managing to find the word I was searching for in my muddled mind. “Pleasure is ninety percent anticipation.”
Laughing dryly, he shakes his head and presses his lips to my forehead. “You think that only because you’ve never been pleasured by me…but I’ll be a good boy and wait. Tonight, I’ll change your mind though. Mark my words.” He begins to trudge forward toward the lift, throwing a sly smile over his shoulder. “Now, let’s enjoy this cold-ass day of sunshine, snow, and skiing. I like staring at your ass in those pants anyway. I’ll just anticipate how good it’ll feel when my hands are groping it later.”
I think I need to lie down in the snow to extinguish the fire blazing inside of me. How in the world am I supposed to concentrate on anything else but his promise at this point?
Five hours later, Crew and I are loading up the skis on the roof racks atop my car, still laughing about our last wipeout. Ignoring my warnings, Mr. Daredevil insisted he was ready for a black diamond slope and demanded I take him down one of my favorites. All was going well as we were slaloming side-by-side down the mountain, until a rabbit—yes, Peter Cottontail, himself—darted out in front of us, thus sending Crew in all-out panic mode.
His ski tips went in when they should’ve gone out and he lost his balance, veering off to the side and slamming smack dab into me. A tangled mess of limbs, skis, and poles, we tumbled to the base of the mountain, landing in a heap of hilariousness. In addition to our stomachs that had been rumbling for well over an hour, that was when we knew it was time to call it a day.
Sliding behind the steering wheel, I wait for him to click his seatbelt before shifting the car into reverse. “Any idea where you want to eat? We can try the food out at your new job, if you want,” I offer, unsure of where to go since I rarely eat out in town.
“No!” he snaps abruptly, causing me to flinch at his outburst. Then, quickly recovering, he reaches out to grab my hand closest to him and interlaces our fingers together. “Sorry, I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. I just want to continue enjoying this day with you…just the two of us. It’s rare that I’m not preoccupied thinking about Caleb and his health, or having to work to make money for the move. I never get time to be free and let loose like this, and if we go there, I’ll be forced to think about work and won’t give you my full attention.”
Crew had told me about getting hired as a night bartender at one of the mountainside pubs, a gig many of the local college students would die to have, but didn’t go into much detail, just saying Mary’s new boss is good friends with the manager, and that’s how he got hooked up. I thought it’d be fun to see where he’s going to work, but since he puts it like that…yeah, I’d rather his focus be on me, too.
“Okay, well there isn’t a shortage of restaurants around here, so I guess we can roll the dice with any of them.” I smile brightly over at him as I pull out onto the street.
With one corner of his mouth tilting up in a sexy smirk, he lifts our joined hands and kisses the back of my knuckles. “Anywhere I get to sit next to you sounds good to me.”
We end up at The Wooden Match, a picturesque little cottage serving up barbeque with all the fixings, and much to my delight, the food is as tasty as the place is charming. Conversation between us never lulls as we talk about everything from our favorite TV shows—the boy really needs to get a Netflix account, to our taste in music—which is more similar than I would’ve guessed, to places we’d like to travel.
Playfully harassing and poking fun at each other throughout the meal, the combination of the easy laughter and shared flirtatious glances feed the arousal blossoming in my gut, and by the time we get ready to leave, I’m a ball of raging hormones. When he reaches across the table to wipe away some errant barbeque sauce from my mouth, my new bold, uninhibited alter ego comes out to play, drawing his thumb in between my lips and sucking seductively.
His ravenous green eyes are trained on my mouth as a low growl emanates in the back of his throat, now hungry for something other than food. “We need to leave before I help myself to dessert right on top of this table,” he rasps, “and I’m not talking about their double-layered chocolate cake.”
Releasing his thumb with a loud pop, I demurely bat my lashes, offering my best doe eyes, and whisper, “No? What about vanilla cream pie? Is that more your style?” Seriously, what in the world has gotten into me?
“Let’s. Go. Now.” The muscles in his jaw flex as he tosses a couple of twenties on the table, and stands up, motioning for me to do the same.
With his hand pressed firmly at the small of my back, we hastily walk out of the restaurant, the pressure between my thighs intensifying with each step. The second we’re inside my car, the air between us is so thick with sexual tension, I can hardly breathe. I’ve never been in a situation like this, and more than anything, I don’t want to fuck it up.
Thankfully, Crew seems to be having the same problem as I am, because he wastes no time crashing his lips to mine, reviving life back into me with each stroke of his tongue. Losing myself in the kiss, desire storms through me as I paw at his shirt, frantic to get the buttons undone.
“Not here, not in your car,” he pulls away, panting with longing. “Is there anywhere we can go?”
“Umm…” The heat around us, the inferno raging inside me, hinders my ability to think rationally. “There’s only one place I can think of with any privacy…well, at least somewhere we can lock from the inside that isn’t my bedroom.”
He slides his hand up my leg and squeezes my thigh, his lust-filled gaze rivaling the passion blazing through me. “Drive, beautiful.”
Not a single word is spoken during the twenty minute drive back to the resort, and when we pull into the long, winding drive, I’m careful to park as far away from my family’s house as possible, hoping to go unnoticed. We spring from the car, meeting in front of the hood, and hurry off under the light of the late afternoon sun—almost an afterthought in the clear sky—in the direction of the greenhouse.
Fumbling with the two padlocks, I finally undo and remove them, and then swing the door open, ushering him in. I secure the locks on the inside of the sturdy door before spinning around to find a shirtless Crew standing amongst hundreds of pot plants. Oh, my word, there is a God.
Suddenly, I’m nervous. This is real, and it’s happening. And I want it to. But…I’m really fucking nervous. I don’t want him to know. Any hesitation on his part and I’ll die. Or combust. And that wouldn’t be safe in here.
Frozen in place, I hiss sharply through my lips as he stalks toward me, gawking at the physical specimen that is Crew Elliott. My eyes rake over his bare, seamlessly sculpted chest and tan, corded arms, landing on the well-defined V that vanishes behind the denim of his low-slung jeans. Before I can gawk too long at the obvious erection straining to be freed behind his zipper, he raises his hands to the front button and I’m forced to bite my lip to keep from groaning as he unfastens and pushes them off his hips.
Then he’s fully naked, larger than I ever expected, the plants framing him in all his glory. Like the Garden of Eden, except opposite. And I want a bite of that apple.
He leers at me with an expectant grin, his eyes darkening with lust, eyebrows raised as he waits confidently. I don’t move right away, every muscle in my body taut with expectation, as I’m afraid I might melt on
to the floor, and I don’t want to miss any of this. Stalking toward me, he grasps my hips and yanks me up against his hardness. Oh em gee.
“Like what you see?” he murmurs into my hair.
At a loss for words, I nod and tip my head to the side, granting his lips easier access to the soft skin on my neck. My hands begin to wander, and with every inch I explore, my reservations dissolve, my skin catches fire, and my clothes feel too rough, too tight. As if he senses my desperate need to get rid of the fabric, his fingers make quick work of unzipping my vest and hauling my turtleneck sweater over my head, tossing them both aside.
Trailing his hand along my collarbone then down to my chest, his fingertips slowly brush over my pebbled nipple as shivers spill down my spine. My bra whooshes off of me, joining the pile of discarded clothes, and the next thing I know, his mouth is on my breast and I’m crying out at the mix of pain and pleasure when his teeth rakes along my erect bud.
After treating the other boob to the same tantalizing behavior, he pulls back with his heavy-lidded eyes, and asks, “Do you have any idea how fucking hard I am for you? How badly I need to be buried inside you?”
His mouth slams down on mine as my hands slink around behind his neck, tangling in the soft waves sticking out under his beanie, while he walks us over to one of my worktables and sets me down on top of it. With pleading swipes of our tongues, our lips mold together in a desperate kiss that has my heart beating out the bass line of urgency. I need this with him more than I thought I could ever need anything.
Breaking our mouths apart, he drops to his knees in front of me and pulls off my boots, chucking them out of the way, then hooks his thumbs in the waistband of my pants, peering up at me with the silent request. I lift my hips, an open invitation to slip the leggings down my thighs and calves, which he fulfills in mere seconds, leaving me only in my white silky panties.
He straightens his legs, extending to his full height, as he scoots my body closer to him, my butt cheeks nearly hanging off the edge of the table. With one of his hands cupping the back of my neck, the other falls between my legs and softly strokes my sex over the flimsy piece of material, teasing and tormenting me while he peppers kisses across my jaw.
“You’re fucking soaked for me.” The words are gruff and arrogant, but they send a shot of electricity jetting through my veins, and I want more.
Never before have I felt so vulnerable in front of someone, naked in every sense of the word, and my body quivers from the frenzy of nerves whirling through me. “Crew,” I whimper, squirming against his feather-light touch. “More.”
Triumph blazes in his eyes, and then, with one abrupt movement, my panties are gone from my body and I’m completely exposed to him. His lips never break contact with my skin, floating from kissing my face to licking his way down my throat to sucking on my nipples, all while he pushes first one, then two fingers, inside me. My hips buck up off the table at the unfamiliar feeling, but he’s quick to soothe me with hushed whispers of my name, and as he begins to gradually glide them in and out while his thumb brushes back and forth over my swollen clit, I completely give myself over to him.
“Oh fuck, that feels amazing,” I moan as I lie back, resting on my elbows on the cool metal surface, watching as he steadily increases the pace of his fingers. With each thrust, something inside of me swells, something I have no control over, but I realize if he doesn’t stop, I’m going to explode. And God, the last thing I want is for him to stop.
Gratefully, he doesn’t, and before I can grasp what’s actually happening, I burst into a million tiny euphoric pieces, calling out his name as my inner walls clamp around his fingers. Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit. My eyes squeeze shut and a colorful display of starbursts and sparkling rays play out behind my lids while my entire body quakes with sheer ecstasy.
As he eases his fingers out of me, the emptiness I feel surprises me, but it’s quickly replaced by the tip of his erection nudging against my slick opening. Relieved to see he put a condom on at some point—I have no idea when—he bends down to me, grabbing my ankles and wrapping them around his waist.
“You’re so fucking beautiful when you come, Hudson.” He gazes down at me with adoration in his eyes, his hand skimming up my belly to cup a breast, and I’ve never in my life felt so sublime. My first orgasm at the hands of someone else isn’t a moment I’ll soon forget.
“I need to be inside you now. I’m dying,” he pleads, raw emotion seeping from his voice.
Nervously, I glance down at his cock, which is much bigger and thicker than I remember it being only a few minutes ago, and I inhale a deep breath through my nose, bracing myself. I nod and spread my thighs as far apart as I can, giving him the green light.
Little by little, he slides into me, allowing my body to stretch around him, which is uncomfortable and pinches at times, but not exactly painful. His hands continuously roam my body, helping to keep me aroused, until finally, he’s buried deep inside me.
“So fucking tight,” he mumbles as he slowly pulls nearly all the way out.
When he looks down to watch where our bodies are connected, it’s only then that the understanding flickers across his face. He snaps his chin up, his wide eyes searching mine for answers, for the answer to the one question on his mind.
“Please don’t stop.” I reach out and grab hold of his hips, my fingernails biting into his flesh as I urge him back inside me. “I need this…I need you.”
For a few seconds, he doesn’t say anything or move, but eventually, he wraps his arms around my middle and gathers me against his chest as he fills me up again. We cling to each other’s sweaty body while he plunges inside my wet heat over and over again, and though I don’t come again, I find exceptional pleasure when Crew finds his own release, my name echoing throughout the greenhouse as he trembles against me.
A few minutes later, after we’ve cuddled, kissed, and redressed, I spread out a blanket on the ground and we lie side-by-side on our backs, smoking a much-needed post-sex joint.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he finally asks after taking a drag and passing me the doobie.
I shrug and twist my neck to look over at him. “Would it have made a difference?”
“Maybe. Maybe not,” he retorts with a playful smirk, rolling onto his side as he props up on his elbow. “I just don’t understand if you’ve waited all this time, why me?”
“Why not you?” I thread my fingers through his beanie-free hair, which is more rebellious than messy, and flash him a satisfied smile. “I obviously wasn’t waiting to get married or to find my soul mate, if such thing even exists. Just more or less until the time felt right…I don’t know, until I felt that certain spark.”
Pulling a long hit into his lungs, he leans over and presses his lips to mine, exhaling the smoke in my mouth as he kisses me. “I hope you feel that spark again real soon, snow angel.”
Somehow, I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.
Bartending is more about making people happy than mixing good drinks. Flirt with the female customers like you want to fuck them, talk to the guys like they’re the coolest dude in the place, and let each waitress think she’s your favorite. Those are three key ingredients to making a shitload of money while pouring drinks behind the bar at the Half Pipe, according to Rory, my trainer and fellow bartender. And halfway through my fourth shift on the job, I realize he was spot-fucking-on.
“Two shots of Patron and two Michelob Ultras for you gorgeous ladies.” I wink at the pair of stacked brunette ski bunnies who just inched up to the bar, eliciting a bashful giggle from one while the other licks her lips like she wants to eat me.
Six months ago…shit, even six weeks ago, I definitely would’ve taken her up on that offer, giving her my phone number so we could meet up for a good time after my shift ended, but now, not so much. Things are different with me. My dick only gets hard for a certain little hippie blonde—a girl I wasn’t looking for, but now that I found her, I don’t plan on givin
g her up any time soon.
Without sounding like a complete fucking pussy, Hudson Shavell is my fantasy girl come to life. Naturally fucking beautiful, generous and selfless to the point Gandhi would be impressed, incredibly brilliant and personable, she’s the whole damn package. Sure, her boobs could be a little bigger and her family is a bit quirky, but on a scale of one to ten, my snow angel is a fucking eleven.
Yeah, she gets extra points, ‘cause I know I’m the only guy who’s ever been inside of her. There’s something insanely ego-boosting about that I’d never considered before, always afraid if I took some girl’s virginity, she’d be clingy and whiny and think we’re gonna spend forever together. But surprisingly, Hudson isn’t any of those things, and for some reason, that makes me want to remind her as frequently as possible that she belongs to me. Unfortunately, in the ten days we’ve been back in town, now official citizens of Breckenridge, it hasn’t been nearly as often as I’d like, thanks to her classes and greenhouse work, my new job, Caleb’s doctor appointments, and our families that seem to always be around.
But tonight, when I get off, she’s supposed to be waiting for me in my bed at my apartment. My mom’s out late with Luke and some new friends she’s made at the ski shop she’s managing. She made sure to emphasize that it’s not a date, so much that I’m positive it’s a date. And since I had to work, Hudson agreed to hang out with Caleb. And I’m sure he’s loving every goddamn minute of it.
“Crew, baby, did you hear me?” Tasha’s sugary-sweet voice slices through my thoughts, jolting me back to the here and now as I turn to look at her posing by the service bar. “I need another vodka tonic. That last one got knocked off my tray by some jackass who thinks talking is like playing charades.”