Page 9 of Wrapped in Winter


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“Shall I show you upstairs?”

“No need. I’m going to grab a shower.”

“I’ll bring your case,” I suggest. “Shall I unpack for you?”

“Thank you.”

I smile. “And would you like something to drink?”

“I’ll take a whiskey. Neat.”

Leaving to retrieve his case, first, I tidy away his skis. When I return to the bedroom, the sound of running water greets me from behind the closed bathroom door.

Infringing on guests’ personal space has been hard to get used to. I might’ve got a taster of it whilst doing my degree, but I’m still not comfortable seeing half-naked guests moving around the room, nor unpacking their thongs, boxers, and occasionally, their sex toys.

I’m very curious about what’s inside Luca’s case though.

As I lift it onto the foldable rack by the bathroom door, sinking to my knees to undo the zipper, the bathroom door bursts open. Steam drifts into the room, revealing an almost naked Luca but for the fluffy, white towel clutched against his groin. He’s not bothered to secure it, it’s just held against his crotch as water drips down his leanly muscled chest and abs.

Dragging my eyes up to his is near-on impossible, but somehow I manage to tear my eyes away from his gorgeous body. He looks down at me, on my knees, as I gaze up at him worshipfully.

Luca is the type of man who could make a good woman be very bad. And I’m trying to be good, I really am, but it’s hard to remember that right now.

He takes a step closer, and I swear the towel drops an inch. My eyes fly down to his lower abs and the tantalizing visual. He is divine, with a flawless, tight stomach and a narrow trail of dark hair that leads…

that

leads

nowhere

good

for

me.

I snap my eyes back up again. “Yes?” I ask, my voice thick.

“The lock number is 2123.”

He waits for me to acknowledge him, running a hand through his wet hair. All it does is show off his flexing, hard bicep. Ignoring the way my body hungers for his muscles wrapped around me feels traitorous, but ignore my body I must.

Even so, I think he’s trying to tempt me. Why else would he handpick me out of so many others, even if two of those were guys? He’s attracted to me, and he’s probably already worked out it’s mutual.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

He’s incredibly handsome, wearing a lethal kind of beauty, sinful, dark, and mesmerizing. It leaves me weak-kneed and pliant, waiting for instructions.

With a nod, Luca steps back and slowly closes the door. A few seconds later, the sound of the water changes as he gets in under the stream.

Blowing out afuck me that didn’t really happenbreath, I smooth my side bangs back before I focus on unpacking his clothes. Working quickly, I hang up button-downs and shirts, pants, sweaters, and dangerously thin sweatpants that leave little to the imagination. I stack his underwear in the closet too, in the built-in drawers, and I place his shoes and boots in pairs. Aside from his toiletry bag, and a novel that looks like a psychological thriller, there’s not much else in here but his ski wear.

Nothing to indicate whether he’s married at any rate.

Closing the case, I place that in the closet too, leaving his toiletry bag on the bed where he can see it when he exits the bathroom. And then I put away the bag rack, tucking it out of sight.

In the kitchen, I pour out a double measure of whiskey, wishing I could drown out my nerves by sneaking a drink for myself. With nothing else to do but reprimand myself for my total lack of resolve, I wait for Luca to make an appearance.

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