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The last two nights have been torture, watching her parade around her bedroom in nothing but a tank top and shorts, revealing her long legs and generous curves. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was tempting me as payback. This morning, I woke up with a raging hard-on and resorted to taking a cold shower in an effort to control my reaction to having to sleep next to the woman who stars in my fantasies without being able to touch her.
Since we got to Aspen Grove, I’ve had to remind myself countless times that Presley Stafford is strictly off-limits, and even if she wasn’t, she can’t stand me.
It doesn’t help that her family hasn’t hesitated to vocalize how much they hate her boss. Thankfully, aside from dinner last night, I’ve avoided them for the most part, but now that Presley’s in full holiday mode, something tells me that’s about to change. I can’t say I’m looking forward to meeting her other brothers, especially because I doubt they’ll be any more welcoming than Dylan was.
“Jack, watch out,” Presley squeals from behind.
I spin around to find her barreling toward me, her face filled with panic. I open my arms to catch her, but the force of the collision sends me sprawling backward. The impact knocks the wind out of me, and I grunt when I make contact with the ice.
“Oh shit,” Presley cries out as she tumbles after me, landing awkwardly on my chest with a thud.
Once I’ve regained control of my breathing, I prop myself up on my elbow to make sure she’s okay. Her head is nestled in my shoulder, and I start to worry something’s wrong when she doesn’t move.
“Presley, are you all right?” My voice is laced with concern.
I wrap my arm around her back, keeping her in place while I give her a once-over. Relief washes over me when she finally lifts her head.
“I’m fine,” she says softly. “Thanks for breaking my fall.”
“You’re welcome.”
The idea of her getting hurt sends a sharp pain through my chest. I instinctively draw her closer, comforted by the steady rhythm of her breathing.
Our faces are mere inches apart, and I’m captivated by how incredibly gorgeous she is. My pulse speeds up as I absentmindedly trace my finger along her jawline, silently counting the freckles scattered across her cheeks. She shivers at my touch but doesn’t pull away. She shouldn’t have this profound effect on me, but after years of denying it, being this close to her sends me over the edge.
There’s a smudge of lipstick on the side of her mouth, and I gently wipe it off with the pad of my thumb. Her breath hitches in response, her plump lips practically begging to be kissed.
“Your hand is cold,” she murmurs.
“Shit, sorry.” I start to withdraw, but she surprises me by resting her palm against my hand, keeping it pressed firmly against her cheek.
“You should have worn gloves like I told you to,” she chides.
“Since when do I ever listen?” I retort.
She tosses her head back, releasing a throaty laugh that’s absolutely intoxicating. The world fades around us until my only focus is on the feel of having Presley in my arms. The tension is thick in the air as I’m met with her intense blue gaze. The desire to take things further is all-consuming.
“You have a thing for staring at me, don’t you?” she says softly.
“Can you blame me when you’re so goddamn beautiful?”
“You really shouldn’t say things like that to me.”
“Why the hell not?” I challenge.
“Because you’re my boss,” she reminds me with a hint of that sass I love so much.
Aside from our age difference, it’s the only other reason I’ve kept my distance. She’s always been off-limits, but in this moment, the fact that we work together doesn’t seem to matter so much.
One kiss can’t hurt, right?
I’m sure that thought will come back to haunt me later, but I couldn’t care less right now.
I’m not thinking straight when I lean in to slant my mouth across hers, and our intermingled panting is music to my ears. I brush my lips against hers in a teasing stroke, and I am both shocked and pleased when she moans softly. I’m seconds away from giving this woman a proper kiss when a piercing voice from across the rink catches my attention.
“Presley, Jack, are you okay?”
I jerk my head up to find Johanna waving at us with a concerned expression.Fuck. I forgot Presley’s family was meeting us, but now, I see the rest of them standing nearby. Her dad is glaring at me, Dylan’s hands are clenched at his sides, and the two men who I assume are her other brothers, Harrison and Cash, look ready to beat me to a pulp.
