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Our kiss lasts for several days, erasing everything about our regular lives save for each other. Except when Reece pulls back, it’s only been minutes and we’re still very much ourselves. Disoriented at the realization, I sway on my feet, but he’s quick to steady me.
“Tell me something honest,” I beg. This moment is too raw to only have deceit between us.
“The first time I saw you, I thought you were soft, just like the Snow—”
“You mean cold like the snow?”
He rubs his kiss-swollen lips together.
“That night you were running hot.”
My gaze flutters to his chin. Night sweats. I’ve been getting them more and more recently.
He dips his head to catch my eye again.
“Sheets all tangled around you, one milky thigh sticking out, begging to be kissed.”
“Yet it wasn’t.”
“It wasn’t.” He pauses, his features darkening for a split second.
It’s not hard to guess what he’s thinking. Kordin could’ve kissed my thigh.
He didn’t, sits restless on the tip of my tongue. Instead of unleashing the words of comfort and confusing him further, I lift my jaw, swallowing them down. I only wanted a kiss. I can’t be what he said—only his. I can’t promise not to let another man touch me…I’m married. Kordin can and will touch me whenever it suits him.
“But I did kiss something on you.”
Sly fox.“What?”
“Your eye mask.”
My eyes yearn to break from Reece’s again, to hide. Despite being in remission, the prospect of developing Graves’ ophthalmopathy weighs heavily on me. It all weighs heavily on me.
“Even with part of your face hidden, I could tell you were…”
“Beautiful?” That’s what he said was the reason for the nickname originally, that I’m beautiful and cold. If anything, tonight should’ve given him a better understanding as to why I’m deliberately both.
“Beautiful… No, Snow, you were fucking breathtaking. I thought you should be cherished.”
I shouldn’t though. I’ve lied, stolen, killed, and now, cheated, and I’ve never felt bad about any of it, not once. Reece does, I can tell, not just by the soccer-mom comment earlier, but in general. He’s a good person, better than I’ve ever been or could hope to be. He commits crimes, but ruefully.
Some people have a motto or an affirmation they repeat to themselves to get them through a hard time. My life is my hard time and the only thing I repeat to myself is po trupach do celu, a Polish term for when you’ll do anything, regardless how awful, to achieve something. Reece’s moral compass has been temporarily skewed for the sake of his family. I permanently smashed mine for my mom. There isnothingI won’t do for her and I make zero apologies for it.
“Now you,” Reece demands, and I have to think for a minute.
“When I first saw you at The Playground, I thought you were hard.”
“That’s because I was,” he says, referencing an entirely different meaning for the word.
Clearly remembering our meeting in Lost and Found better than him, I shake my head, and throw back at him, “That night you were running soft.”
“Fuck.” He thrusts his bottom half against mine, his noticeable erection between us. “The feel of your pussy fixed that.”
“Liar.” He was grinding into me for an entire song only half-cocked and we both know it.
“You’re right. It was your fight. I fucking loved it. Still do. The more you fight, the harder I get. I’d take your worst over anyone else’s best.”
I give Reece an obligatory eye roll, making him groan as his already stiff cock expands against my thigh.
