When he reaches it, he throws it open and steps outside. I’m slapped by a gust of frigid wind that gives me a full-body shiver.
There was another snowstorm last night. Today there’s at least another foot of fresh snow on the ground. He stomps straight into it, barefoot.
“What are you doing?” I shriek.
“There’s a drift of snow on the side of the house that should be big enough to cool you off.”
“Becks, no!” I all but scream, but the sting is lost because I’m still laughing.
Becks halts, but I can’t see much except his back from my upside-down position. He tries to drag me off his shoulder so he can toss me into the snow, but I’m not having it. I’m all arms and legs and latch on to him like a spider monkey, grabbing on to whatever part of him that I can.
I’m sure under normal circumstances he’d be able to easily pluck me from his body, but he’s laughing so hard he’s sloppy and uncoordinated. Which is how I somehow end up pressed against his bare chest, clinging to him with my arms looping his neck and my legs locked around his waist.
When I look up and realize my face is only inches from his, the laughter dies in my chest.
Becks sobers as well, and we stand like that, him barefoot in the snow, me plastered against him. We’re both breathing hard from the ordeal. Becks’ cheeks are ruddy from the cold and exertion. With every inhale, Becks’ chest brushes up against mine.
The moon is bright tonight, and with my enhanced eyesight I can see every angle and curve of his face.
“Your feet have to be freezing,” I say, my voice whisper-soft.
“I told you, I run hot,” he says again, his gaze traveling across my face slowly before stopping on my lips.
I lick them, and from behind wet strands of hair, his green eyes flash.
As my breathing slows, my heartbeat picks up.
“You did,” I agree.
I don’t realize that one of his arms is wrapped around me, helping support me, until he tightens his grip, anchoring me more fully against him and bringing my upper body almost flush with his.
The tousled hair falling over his brow partly hides his striking green eyes. I slide one arm from around his neck and gently brush it back from his forehead. I can’t stop myself from threading my fingers through his hair, trailing them over his head and down to the nape of his neck.
His eyes heat, but a shiver runs through him.
“Getting cold?” I ask, breathless.
He gives a slow shake of his head as he raises a hand to my face. He traces my top and then bottom lip with his thumb, and that simple touch sends heat rushing through me, quick and consuming.
“Not even close,” he answers. “You?”
I murmur a soft no, even as the wind whips around us again, biting and cold. But I barely feel it. I don’t think I’ve ever known warmth like this.
Time feels suspended, the world holding its breath around us. Then it breathes a sigh of relief as Becks’ lips brush against mine.
I’m not even sure who moved first.
Maybe it was him.
Maybe it was me.
Maybe we both just stopped pretending we didn’t want this.
The kiss is soft, almost hesitant, like we’re afraid to break whatever fragile thing has just sparked to life between us.
I vaguely notice another gust of wind that sends my hair flying around us. Becks twists, putting his body between me and the frigid gale, then my back is pressed into the cabin.
The kiss deepens, and I’m swept up in a maelstrom of sensation—warmth, breath, heartbeat—all colliding in perfect, reckless sync as our mouths find each other again and again.
