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“Better now,” I inform him, noticing he doesn’t mind kissing me any time of the day or night with equal tenderness.
“Good,” he whispers. “Because we’re going home.”
I try to sit up but my chest meets his, and his hands cup my face again, kissing me for a second time.
“It’s all arranged, you just need to lay here and be adorable, remember?” he asks, making me flush hard as one of his hands strays to my chest and works its way down between my legs, making me moan loudly.
“I didn’t-” Carter asks suddenly, worried about my ankle.
But I grip his wrist, holding his hand between my legs once I tell him he’s far from hurting me.
“How long?” I ask, hoping he has time to pleasure me some more. And I can see the same formula working in his own mind as his eyes scan my reclining body.
“Fifteen miles…” he says absently, which makes me crease my brow, pouting again once I realize I’m gonna have to wait for my next dose of Carter.
No matter how bad I need it.
“I mean, we’re going home. I got us a ride and he’s fifteen miles out so I have to pack,” he explains.
“But how?” I stammer. Feeling only his lips on mine before he urges me to relax and just wait and see.
Watching Carter’s fine ass and huge body as he effortlessly packs and picks up our supplies is no chore.
I remember what he’s said and do exactly as I’m told, although I have to fight the urge to rub my legs together.
Helped by my nagging ankle pain, but gee whizz… the man is freaking sex on legs.
Hearing Carter tell me we’re both going home gives me a quiet thrill too. If only it could just be the two of us.
Us and our home.
He packs up the last of our breakfast gear, putting everything into one of dad’s storage tubs, telling me to remind him not to forget to do those dishes once we get back.
“Your dad would kill me if he knew I was leaving without washing up,” he quips and we both share an awkward stare for a moment.
“It’ll work out, Serena, I promise,” he reassures me and cocks his head as if he can hear something I know I sure can’t.
“Perfect timing, they’ll be here soon.”
“They?” I ask, feeling suddenly uneasy again, trusting Carter but still hating surprises.
Then I hear it.
It sounds like thunder for a bit, until I can make out the sounds of heavy machinery.
Vehicles.
“We’ll have Mike, a friend of mine tow your dad’s truck on his and we can ride up front,” he smiles, leaning over to peck my cheek.
“Need the bathroom before we go?” he asks, but I shake my head, watching as he double-checks he has everything and sets the screen in front of the dying fire he’s deliberately let dwindle.
It’s not long before the deep blast of a big rig’s air horn echoes through the cabins and Carter says I should sit tight until we’re ready to go, tucking me back under the comforter to keep warm while he goes and arranges our escape from the shortest and weirdest holiday I’ve ever had.
After more loud noise and what I figure must be a snowplow in front of the rig, I can hear Carter shouting back to his friend as they arrange my dad’s SUV.
But not long after, I crane my neck, trying to see out the snow-filled windows.
There are other voices.
Angry voices.
Against Carter’s orders, I can’t help but get up and hobble over to the door, opening it a little to see and hear what’s going on.
I can see Carter, a snowplow truck in front of a big rig that has what looks like a load of logs on its back.
Both drivers have their heads out their windows, with the angry voices coming from two familiar shapes as they huff across the snow in snowshoes to stop from sinking into the drift.
From what I can tell, the lodge owners aren’t happy that they’re being plowed.
They think they’re going to be charged for it. Plus, another figure emerges from the white landscape of the snow.
I’d know her figure anywhere now, even dressed in that stupid pink ski suit. She’s waving to Carter, carrying some tiny luggage.
I can almost hear Carter’s deep growl cut through everything, but he carries on taking instructions from the rig driver, who jumps out and both ignoring the others, they set to work loading dad’s SUV onto the space at the back of the rig’s trailer.
Once the trucks secure, Carter jumps down and the Lodge owners get close enough to put themselves between him and our cabin.
As soon as Carter spots me peeking through the doorway, I know I’m done for.
He brushes past the others and scoops me up, rolling his eyes a little as he pretends to tell me off.
