Page 44 of If I Stopped Haunting You

Pen straightened and patted the snowball proudly. It was large, nearly the size of her head, and Storm gulped as he stared at it. Smiling, she tossed it at his chest. When it splattered against his front, his brow furrowed.

“Truce?” she asked, tilting her head.

He frowned as she took another step toward him. Stormshifted back, hands between them as if he could ward her off. “Why does this feel like a trap?”

“It’s not.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Crying out, she launched herself at him. They fell back in the snow, and she laughed as she straddled him and held her arms up in victory. Sputtering, Storm squirmed beneath her, and one of his hands wrapped around her thigh, squeezing as he struggled up in the snow.

With sharp, undeniable certainty, she knew the dream had been about him. It had beenhishand that squeezed her thigh, his mouth against hers as he’d pressed her back into a bookcase. Pen had woken this morning from a sex dream about Neil Storm, and there was no way to unknow it.

She froze as Daniela whistled and Laszlo coughed somewhere behind them. Hands planted on Storm’s chest, Pen looked down at him, at his lopsided smile and snow-soaked curls. She couldn’t look away. Impossibly, and against all odds, Pen had the terrifying urge to sink down and kiss him.

Face heating, Pen was reminded of the library, of the way he’d surrounded her, taking up what little space there was between them. And despite the cold of the snow, he was so warm beneath her.Beneath her.

Oh god, she wasstraddlinghim.

Suddenly, she wanted to tell him about the night before, about his book. How, despite everything telling her it was a terrible idea, she was having strange thoughts and feelings, and she wanted to act on them.

Like kissing.

Shereallywanted to kiss him.

“Why don’t we all head in and dry off before we start the next activity?” Laszlo called from up the steps.

Clearing her throat, Pen struggled off Storm, his hand slidingleisurely from her thigh. His nails scraped over her leg, trailing a path of fire all the way to her knee as she stood and offered a hand to him. His hand was cold in hers, his fingers red from the snow as he stood and breathed warmth into them.

Her gaze locked on his lips, her thoughts heading in a direction that frightened her.

“Better head in,” she mumbled, turning to go as she brushed off her pants, hiding the blush creeping up her neck and into her cheeks.

“Skinner?”

She paused, heart in her throat. “Yeah?”

He hesitated. “Nothing.”

Blinking, she let out a deep sigh and jogged up the steps to the castle. In the foyer, she kicked off her boots and tossed her soaked jacket onto one of the hooks, clasping her fingers for warmth. She was already up the stairs and crossing to her bedroom when she heard the front doors open.

Puffing out her cheeks, Pen leaned back against her door and closed her eyes. No one could have predicted this in a million years. They were enemies or had been enemies. But talking to him, bickering with him, and finally, understanding Neil Storm had opened something in her closed-off heart.

Pen pressed her hands to her chest, shivering as the cold set in. She yanked off her sweater and slipped off her pants, tossing them carelessly to the side as she banged her head against the door.

Fuck, she hated to admit it, but Penelope Skinnerlikedhim.

As more than enemies.

As more than friends.

As more than anything she’d ever allowed him to be.

Pen sank to the floor, head in her hands as she tried and failed desperately to banish her thoughts.

“I’m so screwed,” she groaned.

Chapter 14