Dropping In (Snow-Crossed Lovers Book 1)

by Carrie Quest

  “Okay?”

  She smiles at me, and I know her well enough to know that it’s a real smile. Her beautiful lips are relaxed, and her eyes are sparkling. Tension leaves my body so fast that I feel dizzy, and my hand shoots over to the nearby wall to steady myself.

  “It’s in the vault,” Nat says.

  I love that she knows what that means. “Really?”

  She mimes zipping her lips and throwing away the key. “Are you hungry? Cause I could murder a slice of pizza right now.”

  I grin and bring my other hand up to the wall, caging her in.

  “I could eat,” I say. “In a minute.” I push my hips forward, and she closes her eyes and sighs. I nudge her back until she’s pressed against the wall and I’m pressed against her, my forearms flat against the brick on either side of her head.

  “There’s one thing I need to do first,” I murmur.

  Her eyes open and the heat in them hits me straight in my dick. I know she feels me getting hard because she licks her lips and grinds against me, just once. I moan, and she grins.

  “What could possibly be more urgent than pizza?” she whispers.

  But I don’t answer, I just kiss her. She opens up for me right away, making a hungry little sound in the back of her throat when our tongues touch. Her noises, man. They slay me. Her hands circle around my back and she pulls me in even closer, pressing her breasts against my chest and grinding her hips in high little circles that have me seeing stars. There isn’t an inch between our bodies now, but I still need to be closer. I need to be touching her everywhere, so I move to cradle the sides of her face with my palms, my fingers tangled in her hair, and angle her head back so I can kiss her even deeper.

  “Get a fucking room, man.”

  I whip my head around and see the busker from earlier.

  He shoots me a wink. “Or at least put a hat out. Show like that? You’ll kill it with tips.” Then he flips one of his swords in the air and catches it neatly before walking away.

  Asshole.

  Nat giggles, then starts laughing for real when her stomach growls loud enough for both of us to hear it.

  “You need fuel,” I say.

  “Fuel?” Her lips tip up in a sultry smile and her eyes go wide. “What exactly do you have in mind, Mr. Easton?”

  I reach out and run one finger over her kiss-swollen lips. “Well, I put off the bed delivery after this morning and the new bed won’t be here until tomorrow now, so I guess we’ll be staging another symphony in yours. All that squeaking and creaking will take a lot of energy.”

  “Squeaking and creaking, huh? You’re really selling this. No wonder you’re so popular with the ladies.”

  I nod. “It’s true. And I haven’t even mentioned the moaning and screaming.”

  She grins up at me. “Wait. Are we still talking about sex or are you taking me to a haunted house?”

  I push her hair behind her ear and lean down until my lips are almost, but not quite touching her. “Boo,” I whisper, then trace the shell of her ear with my tongue.

  She shivers. “Let’s get the pizza to go.”

  “Fuck the pizza.” I grab her hand and pull her away from the building. We bowl through the crowd of people and the busker shakes a sword at us, but we’re moving so fast it doesn’t matter.

  “Where are we going?”

  I break into a run and she matches my pace, laughing and gripping my hand tight.

  “Home,” I say. “I’m going to make your bed squeak all night long. I can’t wait anymore.”

  She stops suddenly, tugging my arm. “We don’t need to sprint.”

  She glances down at my knee, a big awkward question in her eyes, and I squeeze her hand. “I’m good for sex sprints,” I say. “I’ve been training for this. Why do you think Thor gets so many walks?”

  She smiles but doesn’t start moving that gorgeous ass toward our house. “Just wait a second,” she says.

  I pull her up against my chest and lick my way down her neck. “I told you I can’t wait,” I mumble against her skin. “God, you taste good. I need to taste you everywhere.”

  She grabs my face and pulls my head up so I’m staring into her eyes. “Focus, Ben.”

  “I am totally focused,” I protest. “Focused on getting you naked as soon as we hit the front door.” I push my hand under her shirt and run it up the smooth skin of her back. “Maybe sooner,” I say, toying with the snap on her bra. “You can walk home without a bra, right?”

  She closes her eyes and sways into me, groaning.

  “You’re making this really hard,” she says.

  “No,” I say, pushing my hips forward so my hardness presses up against her belly. “You’re making this really hard.”

  Her eyes fly open and she takes a step back. “I’ve never had sex in my own bed,” she blurts out. “I’ve never been with anyone for longer than a semester and none of them are still in my phone. You’re Piper’s brother, and I haven’t even talked to her about this yet. Plus, we live together, and I need to know…”

  She trails off and looks away. Her hands are still on my cheeks, and I cover them with my own, then lean in closer, waiting for her to look at me.

  “What do you need to know?” I ask.

  Her eyes meet mine. I see her desire and her fear, and I want to crush her to me, to cover her with my body and protect her from everything. Even me. Especially me.

  “I need to know this is real,” she whispers. “I feel out of control, like I’m falling, and I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to. Neither one of us is exactly a relationship expert and I’m scared. I need to know you’re falling with me.”

  I pull one of her hands down to my chest and hold it over my heart, so she can feel it pounding for her.

  “I’m right there with you,” I say. I press my lips gently to hers and pull her close. Her arms come up around my neck, holding tight. We stay that way for a few minutes and when I close my eyes, it does feel exactly like falling. Like I’m tumbling through the air ass over heels, everything completely out of control, just giving into gravity and hoping the landing doesn’t kill me.

  But then I open my eyes, and Natalie’s smiling up at me, and it doesn’t matter how squeaky her bed is, it will still be the softest, safest landing I can imagine.

  “Okay?” I ask.

  “Yes,” she says. Then she grabs my hand and takes off at a sprint, pulling me home.

  19

  Natalie

  The last time I voluntarily ran anywhere was two years ago, when my mom signed us all up for a family “fun run” benefit at her hospital. My parents and Allie each won their division. I blew off the training program they gave me and crossed the finish line begging for oxygen, which the hundreds of doctors present refused to administer. Bastards.

  The way I’m moving tonight, though, I could probably knock out a four-minute mile. Running is all about motivation, and hot sex with Ben Easton would make an Olympic sprinter out of the most dedicated couch potato.

  We blow past drunk people stumbling home from the bars and plow through groups of giggling friends taking selfies under streetlights. Neither one of us says a word, but whenever our eyes meet, I can feel my face stretching into a dopey grin that he mirrors back to me.

  I’m right there with you.

  He’s letting me take the lead, and it’s tempting to pull him into every dark corner we pass because I don’t want to wait another second. I want his tongue in my mouth and his hands on my skin. I want him to rip off my clothes and fling my bra into Mrs. Delaney’s lilac bushes before he fucks me under the stars on her perfectly manicured lawn.

  She’s old. She’d sleep right through it.

  But I resist, because the thought of Ben in my bed, holding himself over me and staring into my eyes as he pushes inside me, is somehow hotter and more forbidden than any of my previous friends-with-benefits sexcapades. And I want that with him more than I’ve ever wanted anything.

  I’m panting when we hit the fr
ont porch, but it’s not from the running. It’s the anticipation.

  He pushes me up against the door and kisses me hard, his tongue sweeping into my mouth. He tastes like mint and coffee, and I suck on his tongue, desperate to get at least part of him inside me.

  “My keys are in my back pocket,” he says, breaking away to pepper kisses down my neck. “You’d better get them, because I’m not taking my hands off you for the rest of the night.” He bites the place where my neck meets my shoulder, then swirls his tongue over the tiny ache to soothe it.

  “Mad tongue skills,” I murmur, and he lifts his head and grins.

  Damn. I’m pretty sure every time that dimple pops out an orgasm fairy gets her wings.

  His hands are everywhere, cupping my ass to press me against him, then dipping under my shirt. One flick and my bra is history, the straps sliding down my shoulders as his greedy hands pull down the cups and palm my breasts. He closes his eyes and moans, letting his forehead fall forward to rest against mine as his thumbs circle my nipples, slowly now, teasing them to rock-hard points. A tremor vibrates through me and I delve for the keys, but instead end up groping his perfect ass through the thin cotton of his pocket lining, feeling the muscles bunch as he grinds himself into me.

  “I want my tongue on you,” he whispers against my mouth. “First here…” He twirls my left nipple and I feel his smile when I gasp. “Then here,” he says, giving the right one the same treatment.

  I yank my hand out of his back pocket and snake it between our bodies, and he hisses out a breath when I find his cock and stroke up and down the hard length a few times. I move to undo his zipper, but he shakes his head and takes a step back.

  “You do that, and this will be over before we even hit the couch,” he says. “Keys.”

  I nod, but then his hands are back, fingers trailing down my stomach. All thoughts of keys and everything else except how good this feels fly out of my head, and by the time he reaches the waistband of my jeans, I’m holding my breath. He stops there, playing with the button for several long, aching seconds before he flicks it open and dips his fingers into my panties, groaning when he feels how wet I am.

  “And here,” he rasps, rubbing a little circle over my clit. “My tongue is going to be right”— rub — “here”— rub —“for a long time. Until you scream my name and beg me to stop.”

  My breath escapes in a sigh. “That might take hours.”

  “Fuck, I hope so,” he says. “Keys, Nat.”

  I shake my head, trying to clear the sex haze, but there’s no way I’m going to be able to grab anything except his dick when his hands are on me like this. So I pull his fingers out of my pants and spin us around so he’s facing the door.

  “You going to frisk me, officer?” he asks.

  I press my breasts against his back. “Maybe later, if you’re lucky.”

  He laughs. “I’m feeling pretty fucking lucky right about now,” he says.

  “Me too,” I whisper. I press a kiss on his shoulder as I reach into his pocket for the keys, feeling triumph as the metal edges bite into my hand.

  “Here you go.” He’s standing right in front of the doorknob, so I hand the keys off to him, but he makes no move to open the door. Instead, he goes completely still, cocking his head to the side like he’s listening for something.

  “You hear that?”

  I shake my head. My hands are on his back, and I feel all his muscles get tense. “There’s someone in there,” he says.

  “I’m sure it’s just Thor and Chuckles.”

  He shakes his head, reaching around to grab my arm and squeeze it. “I didn’t leave the lights on,” he whispers, and for the first time I notice the glow behind the curtains of the living room.

  “Did Pipes say she was coming home tonight?” he asks.

  “Nope.” It’s completely fucked up that I’m hoping our house has been invaded by a burglar (unarmed and nonviolent of course) instead of my best friend, but I am so hot and turned on that even the thought of stopping this now makes me want to weep. Chasing some high school kid after weed money out the back door and then calling the cops will take what, an hour?

  We’ll still have plenty of time for tongue games after that.

  “Stay behind me, okay?”

  I step back to give him space to open the door and he fits the key into the lock silently and slowly pushes it open, grabbing an empty wine bottle out of the recycling bin and raising it up over his shoulder as he takes a careful step into the house.

  I linger in the shadow of the porch, ready to run or scream, but Ben doesn’t swing the bottle. He drops it so it’s in front of his dick and holds it there awkwardly, like some kind of shield.

  “Pipes?” His voice is soft and concerned, and when I hear Piper sob out an answer, I don’t hesitate. I push past Ben and his bottle and run to my friend, who’s cuddled up on the couch with Chuckles lounging on her lap, poking his head out of an ocean of tissues like a bad-tempered seal.

  “What’s wrong?” I drop down next to her, ignoring Chuckles’s warning growl, and push her hair out of her face.

  She’s not crying anymore, but her eyes are red and swollen, and I can see the streaks of dried tears on her cheeks.

  “Did something happen?” I ask. My heart is thumping erratically, I can feel it in my chest and hear it in my head, and I swallow hard as I reach out to grip Piper’s hand. She’s not a crier. I’ve never seen her like this before, and it’s scary enough to send my mind straight to worst-case scenarios.

  I wish I’d never seen Silence of the Lambs. Fucking Netflix.

  “Is it something bad?” I whisper, low enough that Ben can’t hear me. Two minutes ago I felt closer to him than I’ve ever felt to another guy, but that’s nothing compared to my relationship with Piper, and if something really horrible is going on, she might not want her big brother involved.

  I squeeze her fingers. “Do you want me to call someone? Did someone hurt you?”

  She shakes her head and I blow out a slow breath, closing my eyes as the crazy jig of my heart evens out.

  “It’s nothing like that,” she says. She looks up at Ben, who’s still standing at the door with the bottle in front of his dick. His fists are clenched, and he looks pissed, like whoever is making his sister cry is about to get a few inches of green glass shoved in a very awkward place.

  It’s fucking hot.

  I sigh and turn back to Piper. “Is there someone I need to kill? Because I’ve seen The Sopranos all the way through, like, seven times, and I’ve been scouting places to bury bodies ever since I moved here.”

  The Easton siblings let out nearly identical snorts of laughter.

  “Good to know,” Ben says.

  I pull Piper into a hug, and he takes the opportunity to grab his crotch and adjust himself, then reaches out to drop the bottle in the bin and pulls the door shut.

  “Anything I can do?” he asks Piper.

  She shakes her head, and he rocks back and forth on his feet a few times, then clears his throat.

  “Guess I’ll head downstairs then,” he says, arching an eyebrow at me. “Hit the shower.”

  “I used most of the hot water when I got here,” Piper says. “Sorry.”

  One side of his mouth quirks up. “Not going to be a problem,” he says. He shoots me a look and makes a quick motion like he’s buttoning a jacket. I’m confused until his gaze drops and I remember that the girls are hanging free and my bra is lurking down around my bellybutton.

  When he looks back up, his gaze is heated and hungry, and I grab a blanket off the back of the sofa before Piper notices that my nipples are so freaking hard they’re practically weapons. Chuckles better not attack me at the moment. He might get impaled.

  “I’ll go upstairs in a minute,” Piper says. She starts gathering handfuls of tissues and heaping them on the coffee table. “I know I’m on your bed.”

  “Take your time,” he says. “I’m going to be in the shower for a while.”
/>
  He leans over and drops a kiss on top of Piper’s head, using my shoulder to balance himself. He rubs a little circle on my skin and everything below my waist melts as I remember where his fingers were five minutes ago.

  “Good night,” he says. He’s talking to both of us, but his eyes are on me, so dark they’re almost black. “Come get me if you need anything.”

  I bite back a groan, because there are plenty of things I need from him, but I’m not going to get them tonight.

  “Leave some water for me,” I call after him as he disappears toward the kitchen. A cold shower is going to be necessary if I want to get any sleep tonight.

  He waves, and I wait until his door clicks shut before I turn to Piper.

  “Is this a chocolate problem, or do we need to go straight to the booze?”

  She gives me a watery smile and waves her glass of juice under my nose. I jerk my head back at the smell. She’s not just drinking juice.

  “Vodka it is,” I say. “Need a refill?”

  She throws back the drink and holds out the empty glass. “Absolutely.”

  I slop orange juice into glasses and grab the bottle of vodka from the freezer and put it all on a tray. At the last minute I add a bag of chips because I never ate dinner, and the alcohol is going to hit hard if I don’t get something in my stomach. Maybe I should’ve insisted on that pizza.

  Fuck the pizza. Remembering the way Ben grabbed my hand and yanked me out of that alley makes my knees go weak, and I have to put the tray down and hold onto the counter for a minute. Maybe this is why Victorian ladies were always swooning: interrupted orgasms.

  Piper is looking slightly better when I get myself together and make it back to the couch. She’s pulled her hair back and cleared up her sea of soaked tissues.

  “How was your night? Did you run into Ben after your poetry meeting?”

  “Yes,” I say. I am totally, definitely, 100 percent going to tell Piper about knocking boots with her brother, but maybe not tonight. “He walked me home.”

  She raises one eyebrow. “He called me three times asking where you were.”