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“I know. I don’t think I’ve seen anything this spectacular in my entire life.”
“I meant you,” he said, and I caught a glimpse of his casual grin, before he pushed off and dropped over the lip of the Bowl.
I couldn’t help but follow him down, and for a few terrifying seconds I was airborne. After a wobbly landing, I righted myself and fell into the groove he’d carved ahead of me. He expertly weaved through the glades, glancing back every once in a while to make sure I was keeping up. After a hard right turn at an unmarked path, we soon joined a cluster of skiers beating dusk to the cozy village, now twinkling yellow and pink in the fading sun.
At the base we skied up to each other, and he held up a hand for a high-five.
“Brave girl!” he said.
“What was so brave?” I asked as our gloved hands made contact. I felt flushed and giddy from the fast trip down.
“The first mile of that last run was a black diamond run and you just did it. Without even thinking!”
I felt something like pride mingled with glee.
“A drink to celebrate?” I asked.
We made our way to Chateau Whistler, where I was staying, and crossed the Great Hall, where everyone seemed to know Theo. He introduced me to the waiter, Marcel, an old friend also from Québec, who brought us fondue and two hot rum toddies, followed by steaming bowls of mussels and frites. I was so hungry I began devouring handfuls of fries, then caught myself.
“Oh my God,” I said, mortified. “I’m eating like an animal. Look at me,” I said, unable to resist popping another handful into my mouth.
“That’s what I’ve been doing all day,” he said, reaching across the table and pulling me towards him for a kiss. His hands were strong and callused from gripping ski poles all day. His hair was tousled and I knew mine was too, though probably not so adorably. But it didn’t matter. This guy was into me, I could tell. I flashed back to Pauline and her man in Café Rose, and their intense connection. Now I was having the same sort of experience. I shyly glanced around the chalet to see if anyone was noticing this … me … us. No. We were in our own private world, even in public.
We talked for a long time after that, mostly about skiing and the feeling it gave us, reliving for each other our finest moments from that day. I wasn’t avoiding any personal questions. They just didn’t seem as important as the way he was touching my wrist or looking into my eyes. After dinner, when he snatched the bill off the table and stood looking down at me, holding out his hand, I knew we weren’t going to say good-night anytime soon.
I hadn’t even realized how bone-chilled I was until Theo peeled my clothes off in the bathroom of my hotel room, one layer after the other.
“Is there some flesh underneath all of this?” he joked as he pulled off my leggings.
“Yes.” I laughed.
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
After he’d flung my clothes in a pile just outside the bathroom, I was completely naked except for a few impressive bruises blooming on my calves and arms. Those elicited a long slow whistle from Theo.
“Wow, war wounds.” He turned on the shower and steam started to fill the room. “Time to warm you up.”
“You’re not making me go in there on my own, are you?” I asked, more shocked by my boldness than he seemed to be.
He laughed, ripping off his clothes. His body was fit and athletic. Yes, this man skied all day. All year, probably. I stepped into the shower and he joined me, and seconds later our mouths met under the gushing water. He trailed his hands down my arms, guiding my hands up over my head and pushing them against the wet wall behind us. He used his knees to coax mine open, lifting my body slightly so my legs were on either side of him. He was firm but not forceful. I felt like a starfish pressed against the wall. He licked down t
he side of my neck, his hardness against my stomach. Then he gathered one of my breasts in his wide hand and sucked the droplets of water off my nipple. The fingers of his other hand began an aching descent down my body, until he slipped one, then another, inside. I could feel my own wetness while the water pummeled us. He locked eyes with me, and I brought my arms down and entwined my hands in his wet hair. The water was making my feet slip, so he gently placed one hand behind my buttocks, anchoring me there.
“You like this?”
“I’ve never done this before,” I said.
“Want to try something new, then?”
The steam in the shower was building around us. I could feel all the pores of my skin opening to him, all of me opening to him.
“I’d try anything with you,” I said.
He lifted my naked body around his hips, and before I knew it he was carrying me, dripping, out of the bathroom and across the tile and then the carpet to the king-size bed, where he laid me down. He returned to the bathroom to shut the shower off and to find his pants, digging into his pockets, I assumed, for a condom. Then he stood at the edge of the bed, glistening.
I crawled towards him, taking him into my mouth while he watched. Seconds later, he ripped open the package and handed me the condom. I unfurled it over him, and then he gently pushed me down onto my back and licked me expertly, eagerly, my knees splayed open, an arm flung across my eyes. Before I could even catch my breath, he turned me over in his strong arms, so my back was to his front, and I could feel his erection harder than it had been even a few minutes before.
