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“What’s that?” His arm tightens around me, drawing me closer to his side.
I prop up on one hand, gazing down into his warm blue eyes. “I’ve never had a one-night stand in the afternoon. It feels weird to send you on your way with the sun still setting.” I cock my head. “I think you should stay until it gets fully dark.”
He grins. “I planned on it. I mean, you offered me a gourmet dinner of caramel corn and weird leftovers. How am I supposed to resist that?”
“You aren’t,” I say, shifting on top of him and straddling his hips. “And then we’ll probably have to have sex again to stay fit for ski season. Caramel corn is shockingly high in fat and calories.”
“Good,” he says, his hands settling on my hips. “We’re going to need fat and calories to keep up our strength. With the roads as slick as they are, you shouldn’t drive me back to my car in the dark. Best if we wait until morning.”
“And best if you bang me all night,” I agree, a sly smile curving my lips as I feel him starting to get hard again against my thigh. “This sounds like an excellent plan.”
“So fucking excellent,” he agrees, his hand wrapping around the back of my neck as he pulls me down for another slow, deep, lingering kiss.
We kiss for a long time, until it’s dark and our stomachs are growling so loudly, we’re forced to take a break and raid the fridge.
And I swear, caramel corn has never tasted better than it does sitting cross-legged in front of my fire with Bran making wicked promises with his eyes at me over the bowl.
Promises he makes clear he intends to keep as we finish eating and roll onto the fluffy black rug by the fire…
ChapterThree
BRAN
I wake up with a nasty crick in my neck from sleeping on the floor by the fire and one leg frozen from escaping the blanket in the night but make no move to shift positions.
I don’t want to do anything to disturb the sex goddess asleep on my chest.
Jesus. This woman…
She’s incredible. I can hardly believe last night was real. But it was, and I have the warm, sleepy redhead drooling on my chest to prove it.
Luckily, even her drool is fucking adorable.
I lie still, grinning like an idiot at the timber roof overheard as my neck throbs and the voice of doom insists this isn’t going to end well. If I’m willing to endure physical agony in the name of a few more minutes of snuggle time after one night, God only knows what I’ll do if I’m lucky enough to land another date.
But you can bet your ass I’m going after that second date.
And a third and a fourth and fifth. I want as much of Kay’s time as I can get and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to win her over—including temporarily relocating to Jingle Bell Junction. I wasn’t planning to start construction on the recreation area until spring and I’d planned to hire someone to oversee the job, but I can shift gears and manage the site myself.
Surely, there are things I can work on now before the snow melts.
Or things I canpretendto work on…
I’m not above taking some time off to explore what could be a dream relationship. And if everything works out, I can relocate permanently. I build ski resorts for a living. There’s no reason I need to be based in New York, and I honestly prefer a slower pace and a room with a mountain view. The only reason I haven’t moved sooner is that, until recently, most of my friends and family were in the city. But with both my big brothers in Vermont full time and my little sister considering a move in a year or two, there’s no real reason for me to stay.
Especially not if I have a compelling reason to make a change…
But of course, I’m not going to lead with an offer to move to Jingle Bell Junction and devote myself to wooing Kay full time. I might be a romantic, but I’m not an idiot.
I know when and how to play it cool.
When Kay wakes with a soft snort and lifts her head from my chest, mumbling, “Wassa time? Humma gotta summa be a nine,” I shoot her an easy grin and reply, “Yeah, I have somewhere to be at nine, too. We’re good. It’s only seven thirty.”
She pushes her fuzzy red curls from her face with a husky laugh. “You speak my morning language.”
“I do,” I say, trying not to wince as I nod toward the kitchen. My neck needs a change of position—STAT. “And I make a mean coffee. I can brew a pot while you get dressed.”
She sits up, wrapping her arms around herself with a little shiver. She slept in nothing but her undershirt and those intoxicating pink panties—the ones I’d like to rip off her again this morning if I didn’t have a thirty-minute commute to my meeting.
