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He shoved his hands into the pockets of his open coat and moved away from her. She scowled at his back as he waded into the snow. He glanced over his shoulder. “Go back inside. You have a habit of showing up when I want to be alone.”
“You think you can boss everyone around, don’t you? Even your own mother,” she said, following him to be sure he didn’t miss a word. “The degree of your arrogance is …”
“How about you let me worry about the level of my arrogance, and my mother for that matter? Feel free to start minding your own business.”
“Why you ...” Without much thought, she bent down to scoop up a handful of snow and threw it at him with all her might. She gasped when the snow plastered his face. Damian stood frozen, blinking in shock, his lashes fanning debris of snow out of his eyes. Hand over her mouth and wide-eyed, Abby felt a giggle bubbling in her chest and tried to keep it down.
With a growl he took slow steps toward her. She retreated, palms up in surrender. “Now Damian, I know that was childish of me, but there’s no need to reciprocate such behavior. You’re bigger than this,” she added when he didn’t stop. “Damian.” She turned to sprint back to the house. She squealed when she was hit in the back. “So, that’s how you want to play it.”
Abby retaliated. Damian dodged the snowball flying toward his head and descended on her with a wolfish grin.
Abby’s giggles and screams filled the backyard, with occasional roars of laughter from Damian. She bellied over laughing. “Time out! This is unfair, your snowballs are bigger than mine.”
“It pays to have large hands,” he said, winding an arm around her waist and carrying her to the ground. He spun midair to take the brunt of the fall.
Landing on top of him, breathless, Abby said, “No more. You win.”
“I always win, Querida …”
“Oh, get over yourself,” she said. Her annoyance quickly faded when she lifted herself on her elbows and caught his expression. He was smiling, and the harsh lines of his face relaxed. He looked happy, boyish, and her heart involuntarily turned over.
He lifted a hand to push her cascading mane out of her face. “That was interesting. I’ve never had a snowball fight before. Hell, I don’t think I’ve ever played, even as a kid.”
“That’s so sad.”
“I was an only child, and when Camilla came along, I was too old to have any interest in playing.”
Abby fought the urge to kiss him when he looked up at her. Her emotions were in turmoil again, with her wanting to hate Damian and her heart turning to mush at the sight of him. She didn’t have to suffer long because he laced his fingers through her hair and forced her head down. Their lips met in a slow dance that quickly turned impassioned, and her mental war was shoved aside. Her body was in full command, and it wanted more of Damian, more of his kisses, more everything. Their contact became more heated by the second, and she was sure they’d melt the snow beneath them.
He pulled away. “You’re soaking wet.”
“You’re damn right I am.” She might very well need a change of underwear.
She felt the vibration of the laughter in his chest and frowned. “I mean, your hair and clothes, Abby.” He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. “You’re freezing. We’re going inside. Now.”
The cold was starting to seep through her wet coat and clothes so she pushed herself off of him and stood up. She gasped when she spotted Arlet and Camilla watching them. Both women were wide-eyed. “Oh, my god. Arlet saw me shoving my tongue down her son’s throat. How embarrassing.”
Damian snickered and pressed a hand to her back to urge her forward. “Don’t worry about it. Let’s get you dried off.”
They aimed for the door, and Abby’s face scorched when they neared the two women on the porch. Camilla eyed Damian with disbelief. “Were you just playing?”
The only response she received was a grunt. Arlet gazed at Abby with wonder and amazement.
“Excuse us,” Abby said as they passed.
She was led up the stairs and into an opulent bathroom that she could possibly spend hours luxuriating in. “I would love to soak in that tub,” she said, eyeing the massive marble creation. Since she’d moved away from her family’s mansion, she hadn’t indulged in much luxury during her travels and her apartment’s bathroom was worlds away from such splendor.
“Go ahead,” Damian said.
“What? No way. I’m not going to soak in your mother's tub.”
“She doesn’t use this bathroom.”
She shook her head. “Just hand me a towel and let me dry off so we can leave. I’m so embarrassed. Your mother must think I’m some kind of hussy.” She shrugged out of her coat and accepted a fluffy, gray towel.
Damian laughed and began to run a towel through his own wet hair. “I didn’t take you for a prude, Abby. My mother is well aware that we’ve done more than kiss I’m sure.”
“Why, because she knows you’re a male strumpet?”
