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“What about it?” She held his gaze as she grazed his neck with her nails.
“If you’re trying to distract me, I think you have it backward. The way to distract a man isn’t to zip up his clothes.” The white V-neck she wore underneath her own unzipped pullover offered a delicious view of her cleavage. “On second thought, maybe you do know a thing or two about distraction.”
She shrugged. “I’m not trying to distract you. But if I was, I’m doing a pretty good job, don’t you think?”
“Agreed.” All day, she’d been playful. The smile that lifted her pink cheeks said she didn’t want this day to end any more than he did. “We also agreed that the loser would buy the grand champion dessert, but since it was close and I’m a gentleman, I’ll do the buying. So what will it be, Snow Angel? Chocolate cake? Chocolate ice cream? Chocolate pancakes for breakfast?”
He held his breath, waiting for her reaction. He didn’t need to be at the hospital until ten tomorrow for a meeting about the upcoming cancer drug trial.
Plenty of time for pancakes.
“All of the above.” She leaned against the fence as she tugged him toward her and lightly brushed her lips against his. “Do you like cherries on top?”
“I fucking love cherries.” He licked the seam of her lips. When she opened for him, red-hot sugar and spice exploded in his mouth. She tasted better than any dessert, more decadent than any chocolate, and more satisfying than anything to ever touch his tongue.
He craved more.
He wound his fingers through the chain-link fence. Threading his other hand into her ponytail, he angled her head with a jerk sharp enough to elicit a gasp and dove into her mouth, deep and hard. Her fingers dug more firmly into hischest as she hooked his belt loop with her other hand and tugged him closer.
God, she smelled like sunshine, even though clouds were rolling in with the rising moon. He only had one shot at a night with this snow angel. If she gave it her all between the sheets like she did when she boarded, it would be an experience he’d never forget.
He sprinkled kisses down her neck. Salt from exertion and the heat that had been building since they’d met tingled under his tongue. He pushed her clothing aside and scraped his teeth along her bare shoulder.
She moaned and arched into him. The throaty, needy sound rumbled through his electrified body. Pushing his hips into hers, he pressed her against the fence, nipping and sucking her soft skin with just enough pressure to leave a mark. He may never see her again after tonight, but he’d make damn sure she’d remember him, at least for a little while.
“Cannon.”
Her breath burst out in short pants as she cupped his face in her hands and feathered her lips across his chin.
The part of his ego that took pride in pleasing a woman rose mightier than Lucifer’s Lair. “You’re coming home with me tonight.”
She arched a dark eyebrow. “Bossy, aren’t you?”
“When I have good reason to be.”
“Please tell me you have a cabin in the woods with a fireplace.”
He snuck his hand under her layers and ran his fingers along her lower back. “We can be naked between my sheets, in front of the fire, in my hot tub, or hell, on my kitchen table, in ten minutes.”
She shivered, and he pressed his body so tightly against her curves that not even the wind blew between them. The coldhadn’t made her shiver all day. Knowing that he did had his cock jerking against her belly. He swallowed her soft gasp and pulled her closer, his fingers gliding along skin so soft, so…
He stilled his fingers on a puckered patch. “Is this a scar?”
She stiffened. “It’s nothing. Just a scratch.”
“That’s more than a scratch.” He traced the circular wound with his fingertips.
“It’s no big deal.”
“It feels like a big deal. Let me see.”
When she didn’t protest, he spun her around, dropped to his knees, and pulled up her shirt.
“Oh my God, Rosalie.” The aftermath of a brutal injury glowed pink in the filtered moonlight. Outrage, the kind that filled his chest when he treated a battered woman or an abused child, halted his breathing.
Even though he spent most of his time in an office these days, he rotated in the ER to keep his skills sharp. Red Snow might not be a big city, but he still treated his share of violent injuries.
He rose and turned her to face him. “That’s a stab wound.” His voice dropped to the tone he used at the hospital when he needed answers. “Who did this to you?”
