by Abby Knox
She follows me, chattering about how everything looks piled up with feet of snow. “This is amazing. Can we stay out here for a while? Have a snowball fight? Make snow angels? Oh! I’ve always wanted to make snow cream.”
I grunt. “That’s a Southern thing. We don’t do that up here. It’s weird.”
She laughs. “I know! Let’s build a snow cave and make out.”
I continue to trudge on, checking behind me to make sure she’s not getting too cold. Good thing I made her put on some of my wool socks and wear my extra set of snow boots. Those high heels are useless here. “So the street crew can find us dead and locked in a frozen embrace when they come to clear the roads? How fun.”
Avery swoons. “I’ve always wished for a romantic kind of death like that. I mean, eventually. Do you know what I mean?”
Her enthusiasm might not rub off on me—let’s face it, snow does not produce romantic feelings in me—but I can’t help but smile at her.
Together, we haul the door back to the doorway and prop it up as best we can.
“I can’t believe Reese isn’t calling everyone in to cover the snowstorm,” she says. “In any weather event that closes down the roads, it should be all hands on deck. We should have photographers out shooting the trucks that are clearing the snow.”
I put my hands on my hips. “Well, maybe you should be in charge.”
“Maybe I should,” she says.
And then she gets a glint in her eye that half scares me and half thrills me.
“What?” I ask.
She whips out her phone and starts to walk down the middle of the street, in the ruts that have already been carved through the three-foot-tall drifts.
“Get on the phone and call in the reporters. You’re second in command under Reese, right? Call his ass in and tell him we’ve got work to do. I have some other calls to make. First on the list: my acquisitions lawyer.”
“Why?”
“You’ll see.”
Chapter Seventeen
Beast
I’m shocked to find everyone already working away, as if it’s a normal day at the office and as if nobody had to drive through snow drifts to get here. All the reporters, Reese, and the entire office staff are busy. I didn’t even have to call anybody to come in.
Who knows, maybe Avery’s spark lit a fire under Reese.
Perry is here also, looking put out. It’s odd; Avery must have called him.
Avery, seemingly on a mission, marches through the newsroom as I get settled. Reese tries to speak but Avery ignores him; she’s got her lawyer dialed in on FaceTime as she heads to a meeting in the bookkeeper’s office.
While the closed door meeting is taking place, Perry paces up and down the hall, looking like he might start climbing the drab vertical blinds if someone doesn’t hand him a clue soon.
When Avery emerges with the bookkeeper, who looks like she’s been crying, Perry demands, “What is the meaning of this? I’m supposed to be at the hunting lodge in two hours’ time, now that the storm is over. What was so important that you had to meet with me on your”—he looks at his watch, as if it has the information he’s looking for—“second day of work?”
“Perry,” Avery says. “You know you’ve never handled a rifle a day in your life. You have your chef bring imported game to your cabin. I know all about it. Gramps was at one of your elaborate dinner parties years ago, and now he’s probably telling Saint Peter all about it.”
Perry hitches up the waistband of his pants. “Gramps?”
“Jake Weatherington was my grandfather.”
Perry’s face falls. “Well, why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you didn’t ask.”
“Suppose you tell me what this is all about?” he says, gesturing around the place.
Avery smiles. “I asked you here today to let you know I’m buying the newspaper, Perry.”
Perry scoffs. “You don’t know a thing about running a newspaper.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. If you’d even bothered to ask me about myself when you met me at the awards dinner, you would know that not only am I a damn good writer, but I also inherited the business from Gramps. I now own seven newspapers all over the Southeast. And,” she says, glancing around the room like she’s already taking measurements in her head for new carpeting and paint, “I’m thinking of expanding.”
“Well, you know nothing about running a newspaper in this part of the country. Middle America is a different thing entirely.”
I watch her closely, my chest swelling with pride. If she’s the least bit intimidated she doesn’t show it. “Well, that’s why Mr. Chapman”—she glances in my direction and shoots me a brief look that has just enough heat behind it for me to see—“is invited to stay on as managing editor. He’s going to run the newsroom, if he’ll take the job.”
“Hey,” protests Reese. I have to admit, I feel a little sorry for the little guy. Just a little.
But because my girl has thought everything out, she turns her gaze to Reese. “And you, sir, can be sports editor. Or reporter. Hell, take your pick. Want to work in sales? Fine by me. What have you always wanted to do? What would make you a happy person in your career? Make it happen and I’ll help you.”
I watch Reese. It looks like he’s thinking it over.
God, it’s fun to watch Avery in action.
Reese eventually replies, “I’m not sure I want to work here at all if I won’t be working for Perry. He gave me my first job out of college.”
Avery examines her nails. “Mmhm. And how long has it been since Perry gave you a raise?”
“Now listen to me. I added a 401k last year; that qualifies as a raise for everyone,” Perry interjects.
Avery shakes her head and shoots him a look. “Actually, it doesn’t qualify as a raise. And as a matter of fact, I’m glad you brought up the 401k thing. I looked at that particular set of books with your accountant. It’s even less of a raise than you have convinced everyone it is.”
“What do you mean?” Reese and I, along with all the other schlubs in the newsroom, look at her with big question marks on our faces.
She tsks. “I’ve seen this kind of thing before. It never ends well. Oh, good, here he comes now,” she says when a new presence enters the newsroom.
“Buddy?” Perry says, his face turning jovial at the sight of the company’s retirement account administrator who works next door at the financial advisory office. “I see you’ve managed to dig yourself out of the snow.”
But Buddy is not having it. “Perry. Can I talk to you in your office?”
Perry, the consummate performer, agrees, playing off the scene as two old friends about to go shoot the bull in his office. He offers Buddy a coffee, which he refuses. When the door to Perry’s office closes behind them, everyone turns to Avery.
She looks sincerely apologetic. “I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news. I had my suspicions, and I confirmed it this morning when I checked the books. Every paycheck, Perry was skimming off the top of your contributions before putting any money into your retirement accounts.”
The stunned silence is followed by indignant shouts. “Reese, did you know about this?”
“Seriously,” Avery says. “It’s amazing the bunch of you never started a union.”
Chapter Eighteen
Avery
I glance at Beast’s face, who is looking back at me with immense pride. The last time someone showed me myself in their eyes, it was Gramps.
I feel a tightening in my stomach. It feels so good to have him on my side. As far as everyone knows, I’m large and in charge, but in all honesty, I feel like I’ve been in free fall for months. I miss Gramps. I miss having his experience, his trust, his presence backing me up.
I inhale slowly in an attempt to control my nerves. “I don’t want any of you to worry. I’m not buying the paper today. And when I do, none of you will be let go.”
Chapter Nineteen
Beast
Reese, in full meltdown mode, freaked out and went home, leaving me in charge.
All the reporters look to me.
Avery too, and words fail to describe what it feels like to have this woman look at me with all the confidence in the world.
With that confidence, I hand out assignments to everyone, directing some to get on the horn, some to hit the streets, and others to jump in their cars to track down the best snowstorm stories.
“The best five stories along with art will go into a special edition,” I say.
Avery gets to work along with everyone else, and within a few hours, we send our special edition to the printers.
“Nice work, Coach,” Avery says, sidling up to me at my desk.
With those words, we have only one choice for our next move. “All right. Good job, everyone. Go home. Make a snowman, or whatever the hell you like. We’ll see you back here tomorrow morning.”
Without another word, Avery and I head out the door to the back parking lot with my ice scraper that I keep at my desk in case of these situations.
She watches me de-ice my car. “See, why didn’t anyone tell me to buy an ice scraper to keep with me indoors?”
I shrug and pull her in for a kiss. “Just one of those things you have to pick up by living here, I suppose.”
“Mmm, kiss me again; your lips are warm,” she says. I slip my tongue into her mouth and she purrs.
Eventually we get the car started, both of us elated as if we’ve just discovered fire for the first time. “Take me wherever I can get clothes, undies, a toothbrush and junk food,” she says, hopping into the passenger seat as I hold open the door for her.
“Don’t forget the condoms,” I mutter.
Back at the apartment, I go slow with Avery. I want to remember every single touch, movement, ache, kiss and moan. And we have hours of daylight left to enjoy the sight of each other before the sun sets.
Avery undresses for me and tells me to leave my clothes on while she lies down on the bed. My kisses explore every inch of her body slowly, tantalizingly, until both of us are panting with need. The soft skin of her breasts. Her rosy nipples. The curve of her hips. The line of her collarbone. The sweet folds between her legs, which I pull back with my thumb to suck her clit into my mouth, before tasting her cunt with my tongue.
She moans. “It was fun on the stairs but I think I like it better in your warm bed.”
Her scent has me so aroused, and her taste is so strong that all I can do is grunt.
When it’s time, I stand and drop my pants, boxers and the shirt she wore last night that still has her scent on it.
When I push into her for the first time, the rush of pink to her chest spreads up to her cheeks, reminding me of time lapse photography of a red rose opening to the sun.
“You’re so damn beautiful. I feel like I’ve been underground and seeing the sun for the first time in my life.”
Her walls clench around my sheathed cock. “Rory. Are you trying to make me swoon? Because it’s working.”
I chuckle and push all the way to the hilt. She hisses in pleasure and lifts her hips. I hug her body close to me and keep her there, enjoying the sweet friction, reveling in her warmth and wetness that surrounds me. Her goodness radiates from her and makes me want to never lose sight of her.
“I’m not trying to make you swoon, baby. I’m telling you I’ve been dreaming about being inside you since I first laid eyes on you. You give me the dirtiest thoughts and the purest at the same time. I want you. I need you.”
She grips my face and kisses my cheek, my forehead, my lips. The fusion of our bodies is so tight I can feel her clit rubbing against my skin. But it’s more than physical; it’s like I found my true home.
“You have me,” she says. “You’ll always have me, Rory.”
“I have so much I want to say to you,” I rumble, peppering my words with grunts as I thrust into her. I slide out a bit and then drive home again, enjoying the sweet slide and the welcoming pull of her.
“Say it,” she says, clenching down harder and making me growl.
I pull out all the way to the tip and wait, watching her writhe beneath me. “I love you, Avery.”
Her brows knit together and she sucks in a breath, suddenly now not so focused on my cock.
Her heaving chest slows, and tears form in the corners of her eyes. “I love you too, Rory.”
My cock slides back into her pussy, and her thighs clamp around my waist. “Deeper,” she whispers.
I grip one of her legs and drape it over my shoulder.
“Deeper, harder,” she whimpers.
I slide her other leg over my other shoulder and, coming up to my knees, grip her hips.
“Bite me. Please.”
“Since you asked nicely.”
I turn my face slightly and graze my teeth against the soft skin on the inside of her leg.
Avery jerks her body closer to me. As if it’s possible to get any closer.
“Harder. Really bite it.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t hurt me, just—Ow! Yes! Harder. I want you to leave a mark.”
My nipping is met with more commands. If I go any harder, I’ll definitely leave a mark.
I continue to drill deeply, opening my mouth wide to suck her skin into my mouth. Avery whimpers and moans my name, encouraging me to keep going.
With my thumb I swipe her clit, with my cock I slide in and out of her hot, wet pussy, and with my mouth I suck, lick and bite every inch of her I’m able to reach in this position. The biting seems to turn her on so much, she’s soon unraveling, screaming my name as her entire body seizes with her release.
Watching her lose control of herself pushes me into the sky, and my explosion inside her warmth has me seeing a million shooting stars when I close my eyes.
Her arms reach for me and I gently slide her legs back down onto the mattress. Scooping her up in my arms, I hold her close. I murmur softly into her ear while she rides out her aftershocks.
“Baby. You are the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen. The sweetest and best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
I whisper to her until we’re both asleep.
Epilogue
One year later
Avery
“Babe, the crew is waiting. Time to put the paper to bed.”
Even after a year, him calling me babe at work still sends a tingle down to my lady bits. But I’m working, so I don’t look up from my computer screen, where I’m editing a story written by one of our newest hires.
“Yes, Mr. Chapman,” I say. To everyone else in the room, it sounds like I’m mollifying the tense managing editor who also happens to be my live-in boyfriend.
But Rory and I both know it’s a signal for what’s to come later if he doesn’t back off and let me do my work. A good spanking, that’s what.
“It’s time,” he urges.
“Almost finished,” I say as I run through spellcheck’s suggestions at breakneck speed. I’ve read this new hire’s portfolio and I trust her completely. She’s got all the right quotes from all the right people, and we’ve fact-checked everything. I’m just enjoying reading her stuff. And enjoying this little game with my boyfriend.
It usually makes for fun stuff later on.
“…and…it’s in the hopper.” As our copy editor has already gone home for the night, I drag the story onto the digital page on the screen. I hit “send,” and almost immediately receive a text from the crew at the printing press across the alley that they received the last file and the paper should be printed any minute.
“Cutting it close, Avery,” my boyfriend scolds me.
I stand up and peek out the window, the one I had installed shortly after buying the newspaper from Perry’s wife last year. Perry needed the money to pay fines, restitutions, and legal fees for all the laws he broke by skimming off everyone’s 401k plans.
“Perfect timing—look!” I exclaim, pointing out the windo
w to the first flakes of falling snow of the season.
A year ago, my Rory would have simply grunted about how snow isn’t all that impressive when you live here every day.
But, since I’ve made him into a sort of floating managing editor all over the Southeast, he’s come to appreciate the weather up here.
“Well, how about that,” he says with a smile. “You’re magic. I was hoping you’d be back before the first snow, and you are. Care to go for a walk?”
I slide my arm through his when we reach the sidewalk outside, the downtown glittering with twinkle lights and the snow already starting to form blankets over the park benches.
“You’re quiet,” he says as we make our way down the street toward the bar.
I puff out a breath and smile. “I’m just happy to be outside at midnight. No cars around. It’s perfect. Let’s walk to the fountain.”
When we arrive, I’m a little disappointed. “It’s not frozen over yet,” I say.
I turn to my Rory, who reaches into his pocket and pulls out a penny. “Make a wish.”
“Did you plan that?” I say.
“No,” he says, but I somehow don’t believe him.
Playing along, I take the penny, turn, close my eyes, make a wish, and flick the coin off my thumb, opening my eyes as it plonks through the surface of the water.
“What’d you wish for?” he asks me.
“A cheeseburger. I’m starving.”
“Oh. Well, you don’t need to wish for one. I mean, we can just go get one.”
“But I’m hungry now,” I say in a mock bratty tone.
I turn to my man and his face looks a little bit disappointed. “Well, I don’t have a cheeseburger, but I do need to empty my pockets. Hang on.”
“What?” I ask, still totally clueless.
I don’t stay clueless for long, though, as he pulls out a small, square box. He gets down on one knee and opens it. My knees go weak and I have to reach out and steady myself on the hard concrete of the fountain basin.
