Max pulls back, his breath ragged, his eyes dark with that same fire I saw yesterday.
“Billie,” he murmurs, his voice rough. “You’re gonna be the death of me, Little One.”
But he’s smiling, and I giggle, my heart soaring.
“Better get used to it, Daddy,” I tease, climbing onto my ski with a playful wink. “Race you back?”
I rev the engine, the rumble vibrating through me, and he shakes his head, laughing as he mounts his own ski.
“You’re on,” Max says, and we take off, powering back toward the cabin, the wind in my hair and Max by my side, my heart full of him and the promise of us and what our future together could look like.
Chapter 18
Max
The snow-ski’s engine roars beneath me as Billie and I tear up the mountain, the crisp morning air biting my face as we race back to the cabin.
Billie’s on his own ski, the one he handled like a pro yesterday and today down the mountain, and I’m damn impressed by how he’s keeping pace, weaving through the snowy path with a focus that’s all grit and fire.
The boy’s wooly hat bobs as he leans into a turn, his body low, his eyes locked on the trail ahead.
“Come on, Daddy, you’re slow!” he calls over the wind, his voice teasing but fierce, and I can’t help but grin.
This boy’s got determination, a drive to win that’s not just about the race—it’s why he’s Billie B, pop star legend, selling out stadiums at twenty-two.
That edge, that spark, it’s what makes the boy so damned special.
And it’s all pulling me in deeper every second.
I’ve known Littles before, back in the clubs I’d hit between missions—sweet boys with bangs and stuffies, looking for a Daddy to make them feel safe or naughty.
They were nice, perky, but none had this fire, this blend of vulnerability and steel that Billie’s got. Those Littles were content to play, to follow.
But Billie?
Hell no.
He’s a force, pushing himself to beat me, his laughter wild as he guns his ski, trying to edge me out.
It’s not just his skill on the snow-ski—though he’s handling it like he was born for it—it’s his heart, his refusal to back down.
I see it in the way he leans into the curves, his knuckles white on the handlebars, his eyes blazing with the thrill of the chase. It’s clear why he’s been so successful, why he’s clawed his way from child actor to global star. He’s got that rare edge, and it’s making me want him more—my Little, my fighter, my perfect boy.
“You’ll never beat me,” I roar, my voice lost to the wind.
“Ah-ha!” Billie cries back, showing off his skills with another daring weave in and out, up and down, and then jack-knifing the ski like a professional stuntman. “Eat it!”
We’re neck and neck as the cabin comes into view, the snowy path narrowing as we climb higher.
I could push harder, overtake him… but I ease off just a hair, letting the boy pull ahead.
That’s it.
You take the win.
You deserve it, baby boy…
I watch as Billie crosses the invisible finish line first, skidding to a stop with a triumphant whoop, his cheeks flushed, his breath puffing out in the cold.
