Snowed In

by Jenna Bayley-Burke

  Scott beat the hell out of the eggs. He hadn’t been eavesdropping, but the ceiling of the cabin made a voice carry. When the whole family got together it was so loud you could barely carry on a conversation. But now, in the quiet stillness of a snowstorm, every word Marissa said came to him as if she were sitting at the dining table.

  Nothing came as a surprise. He knew she had a job to get back to and wanted to get away from the snow. She didn’t want a relationship and any minute now she would come out here and ask him to take her back to the lodge. Everything in him wanted to keep her right here. If she left now, she’d never be back.

  The eggs sizzled as he poured them in the pan. He made the same breakfast nearly every morning, but he had no idea what she usually ate, how she took her coffee. And he wanted to. Needed to. That way if he couldn’t convince her to stay he wouldn’t be left with so many what-ifs.

  What if he’d tried to convince her she could do better than Chris? What if he’d told her about Chris’s cheating sooner? What if he’d wrapped his arms around her the day he and Matt returned her things from Chris’s place? What if he’d knocked on her door and asked her to coffee the way he’d thought about ever since Matt started dating Tanya?

  None of it would have worked, but the what-ifs stayed with him anyway. He’d always thought she was intelligent and caring, the kind of woman you built your life around. She wasn’t even the girlfriend type. You married a woman like her, one you wanted more the more she gave you. And it wasn’t even about desire, it was a deeper kind of longing.

  He shook his head and realized whom he sounded like. His grandfather spoke of his grandmother like she’d hung the moon and placed the stars and without her he was adrift. He never got over her death, pined away until he joined her forty years later.

  Scott knew he couldn’t do that. There were things he wanted out of life that wouldn’t allow him to wonder forever about the one who got away. He either had a few hours or a few days to show her how sensational they could be together. And if she couldn’t see that, well, she wasn’t as crazy smart as he thought.

  Marissa leaned against the smooth wood column at the entrance to the small kitchen. She’d thought about offering to help, but there wasn’t room for more than one person, and the view from here took her breath away. Scott moved about the kitchen with practiced ease, making toast, scrambling eggs, pouring coffee. And he did it in old jeans, worn and faded and perfectly molded to his ass.

  She wanted to reach out and grab it, the urge shocking her because she didn’t do things like that. She respected a man for his character, not the way his toned ass would feel in her hands as he pushed his cock in deep.

  She gasped and pressed her hand to her throat. She needed to stop thinking about sex. So what if he’d given her more orgasms in one night than she’d managed for herself all year. She’d been caught up in it last night and they’d wound up arguing this morning. If she had to be here for the better part of a week, she’d rather not be battling him.

  Especially when she could be enjoying everything he had on offer. She crossed one leg in front of the other and squeezed her thighs together. She’d done it again, let her libido lead her straight into temptation.

  He turned around with two plates in his hands, his brows rising in surprise. “I thought you were still on the phone.”

  “Tanya said the highway is closed in both directions. When do you think it will open back up?”

  “Right after it stops snowing.” He walked past her and set the plates on the table. “Coffee, juice, or milk?”

  “Coffee. I don’t suppose you have cream?”

  He grinned, his smile growing wider as his gaze dripped down her body and then he licked his lips.

  Her breath caught, as if he were devouring her right here without even touching her.

  He gave her a wink, then headed back into the kitchen, returning with the pot of coffee and a carton of cream.

  “What was that just now?” She squeezed her inner muscles, willing herself to focus on important things like breathing and eating and the ability to speak.

  “You mean with the cream?” He sat on the bench at the long side of the table.

  She nodded. How she could possibly eat when he’d gotten her so flustered?

  “It’s dirty.” He braced his hands on his thighs and leaned toward where she stood. “You don’t want to know.”

  “I think I do.” Her voice seemed lower, smoother. She didn’t know how he could possibly think she could eat when he focused on her like he was starving and she was his next meal.

  “Okay, I’ll answer your question if you answer mine.” He waited for her to nod before continuing. “You asked if I had cream and I thought, Yeah, I got plenty of cream from you this morning.”

  She drew in a sharp breath, her eyes widening. She shouldn’t like it when he talked like that. But she did, and his brilliant smile said he knew it.

  “Told you it was dirty.” He gripped the front of her shirt and pulled her forward, her steps faltering as he brought her between his spread legs. With two fingers he traced a line from her chin, down her neck, and over her chest until they caught on a button of the flannel. “Now I want to know why you didn’t button your shirt. Because ever since you put it on I can’t stop thinking how if I just do this.” He pushed apart the halves on the shirt, exposing her breasts. “Then I can do this.” He leaned forward and gave one of her nipples a long, slow lick.

  “What are you doing to me?” she whispered, desire swirling deep within. He flicked his tongue against her nipple and her knees threatened to buckle, so she grabbed his shoulders and held on. He cupped a breast in each hand and squeezed, a heaviness swirling deep inside.

  “That’s not an answer.” He rubbed his thumbs over the tips of her breasts.

  “I forgot the question.”

  “Why didn’t you button your shirt? Did you want me to play with you like this?”

  “Yes,” she hissed, pressing into his hands. “Wait, no, it just happened. I didn’t want this.”

  “You don’t want this?” He leaned closer, scratching his stubble across one nipple and then the other.

  Her sex clenched and she caught his gaze, the heat in his green eyes stealing the air from her lungs. She’d never seen such passion focused on her. The want in his gaze was more than she could take. Her breath was as shaky as her legs as she gazed down at him and admitted what she’d been trying to hide.

  “I want you inside me. Here. Now.”

  His only response was a tilt of his head and that sly grin.

  Maybe he hadn’t heard her. She needed to show him. Ride him right here on the bench. She reached for his jeans. He released her breasts and grabbed her hands, holding them out and away from his body.

  “Hey, not like this. Breakfast, shower, talk, and then if you want to spend the rest of your time here in my bed making love with me, I’m game.”

  She blinked, almost too shocked to speak. “You don’t want—”

  “Oh, I want. More than you know. You’ve wanted me for six minutes, but I’ve wanted you for six years, so we’re going to wait. The first time I’m inside you isn’t going to be bending you over my dining table.” He lifted his coffee mug and took a slow sip. “Your breakfast is getting cold.”

  She shook her head, her pussy starting to ache in frustration. Her entire body prickled with the heat of a blush. “I can’t eat like this. I don’t even think I could sit down right now.”

  “You want me to make you come so you can eat?” His eyes darkened with passion, drawing her closer.

  “I don’t think the two go together.”

  “You need to keep your energy up. Come here.”

  He gripped her hips, then helped her straddle his lap, her legs outside his and hanging off the back of the bench. She tried to inch closer to ride the ridge of his erection, straining against his jeans, but he slipped his hand between them and cupped her mound.

  “You’re too sensitive right now. The deni
m might hurt you and I have plans for you later.” He slid his fingers along her slick folds, that evil grin playing on his lips again. “You feel so good like this, so wet and ready.”

  She gripped his shoulders as he found her clit, his thumb rubbing back and forth, back and forth. He slipped a finger inside her and she moaned, her hips starting to move in time with his hand. He added another finger and she let her head fall back as the pleasure spiraled closer and closer. He pressed in a third finger and her breath caught, her pussy clamping down tight. She rocked against him and she could hear it, the sound of his fingers on her, in her.

  “Come on, sugar, you’re almost there.”

  “It’s just so thick.” She lifted her head to watch his face as the world blurred around the edges.

  That grin, it would be her undoing. “So am I.”

  He pressed harder, deeper. Her legs straightened, her tummy tensing as he drew the orgasm from her. Her walls spasmed around him, pleasure pulsing with each shudder. She wrapped her arms around him and held on as she gave in to the release.

  He gripped the hair at the nape of her neck and pulled her head off his shoulder to look at him. “You’re beautiful, but you are absolutely stunning when you come.”

  He kissed her then, hard and demanding. As his tongue tangled with hers she knew he’d changed his mind and would take her right here, right now. But too soon he pulled away, and reached for his coffee.

  “Do you want cream in yours?”

  “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to hear you say ‘cream’ again without thinking of sex.” She smoothed her hair and tucked it behind her ears. “How can you go back to your breakfast like nothing happened?”

  “I’m so hungry I’m about to eat cold eggs. If you really don’t want to eat, you should take the first shower.” He helped her off him and into the chair at the end of the table. She carefully sat on the flannel because if the dampness on his jeans was any indication, her pussy was sloppy with her juices.

  “I thought we’d shower together.” She leaned closer, running her hand up his hard thigh.

  “I don’t trust myself if we’re both naked.” He turned his eggs and toast into a sandwich and took a bite.

  “That’s kind of the point.”

  “It will be worth the wait, sugar.” He crossed his ankle over his opposite thigh, blocking her access.

  “You want me to shower by myself?”

  He nodded, then swallowed before turning to her. “Shower and get dressed. I’d appreciate if you covered up as much as possible because your body is just . . .” He grunted like a caveman.

  “See, that makes me want to come down here naked.”

  “Any other time, I’d be game for that.” He finished his sandwich and then stood.

  “Now you’re making me not want to have this conversation.”

  “To be honest I don’t want to have it either, but we need to.” He tilted her chin to look at him. “I’ll shower in my room and you shower upstairs since that’s where your things are. And then we’ll meet back here. Okay?”

  Marissa nodded and smiled as she watched his tight ass walk away, though she had no intention of letting him run whatever conversation he wanted to have. The last thing she wanted to do was talk, especially after their exchange this morning. It had upset them both and solved nothing. They really ought to stick to what they were good at. Making jokes and having sex. Except they hadn’t had sex, technically.

  They needed to take the leap and hold on tight. At least until the snow melted.

  6

  Scott stomped his snow-covered boots on the mat before he carried the logs inside and set them on the hearth. The falling snow was wetter now, a heavier type better for snowball fights than anything else. The kind that had to be cleared off paths and could freeze into a hard, icy crust. Dry snow didn’t cause many problems, but wet snow could be dangerous.

  He kept glancing at the staircase, anxious for Marissa to make her way down. Right now he wanted, no needed, to find out if she felt this strange sense of belonging, a foreign feeling of . . . well, he didn’t know what the hell it was. Being with her felt different. He shook his head. If he couldn’t explain it to himself, how could he explain it to her?

  Instead he busied himself with the things he did know how to do. Like bringing in extra supplies from the storage shed behind the house. He had enough firewood chopped and stacked to last all winter, along with the generator currently whining away. He hated the sound of the thing, so out of place at times like this. He usually only ran it for a few hours to charge up the backup batteries for the house, but that was when it was only him. He didn’t know how long the batteries would last with more of a drain on them.

  He added more logs to those burning in the fireplace and wondered if she was making him wait on purpose, or if he was just impatient. The wind gusted, spitting snow at the windows. The storm showed no signs of easing up, though when he’d called the shop to check in, they’d said it would all be gone by Wednesday. But those were the same weather geniuses who’d thought this mess would be rain. He needed more time with Marissa, and he prayed Mother Nature was a romantic.

  Some day very soon Marissa would make Christa pay for forgetting to put the blow-dryer and flat iron in her bag. She truly doubted Scott had either styling tool, so she’d settled for towel drying and hoping she didn’t resemble Shirley Temple. She never left the house without straightening her hair—hell, she never left her bathroom with her hair like this.

  The curls had settled over time, but were still impossible to control. The last time she’d been caught in the rain, she’d gone home to find half her head had dried in loose waves while the other had tightened into ringlets. Curly hair obeyed no one.

  Of all the times to have a bad hair day. She gave up on even trying to turn the deep auburn curls into something resembling order. Looking put together made her feel more in control. She even wore coordinating outfits to the gym. The gym! She stood straighter, relieved that she kept her gym bag ready to go in the trunk of her car. Down the mountain, under the snow.

  For a girl who prepared for every contingency, being caught without what she needed unnerved her. She grudgingly put on the only clean thing she had left. She’d planned to wear her favorite navy blue dress to the brunch this morning. She felt great in it; the side-gathered waist made her seem curvy while the scoop neck showed off her collarbones without even hinting at cleavage. Work appropriate, but not what she’d choose to wear to a seduction. Or a snowbound cabin.

  Efficiency had failed her. She’d packed a small case with only what she needed. Christa’s mammoth bag had enough options for a trans-Atlantic cruise.

  She zipped up the dress, glancing toward the flannel she’d changed out of. As soon as they had this talk he insisted on, she’d layer herself in his flannels and beg for drawstring shorts. She’d tried to wear his sweats this morning, but she couldn’t get the damned things to stay up. Hopefully he had a thing for bag ladies because she’d have to look like one until they got off the mountain.

  The only thing more ridiculously out of place than her outfit was her shoe options. Strappy sandals from the wedding, peep-toe pumps from the rehearsal, and her ruby-red heels for brunch. She’d be lucky if Scott didn’t start laughing when he caught sight of her in a dress and stilettos. She stared longingly at the wool socks she’d worn all morning, but she couldn’t bring herself to put them on. Barefoot felt ridiculous, but given her options she didn’t have a choice.

  Feeling awkward and out of place was her usual state. She’d just do what she always did. Paste on a smile, stand tall, and look forward. She huffed a breath and headed downstairs, only to find Scott starting up the steps.

  “Did you think I’d get lost?” She brightened her smile as he looked her up and down without so much as a smirk.

  “This is what you wear when I ask you to cover up?”

  And apparently he hated her dress, or her hair or her bare feet. She kept up the smile and started down
the stairs. He stayed at the bottom, blocking her way. One stair up she could look right into those amazing green eyes of his. “This is the only thing I have left. Perfect for a post-wedding brunch.”

  He winced and stepped aside. “Right, sorry. I thought you’d put on a tight dress and curled your hair so we wouldn’t have to talk.”

  If he liked her hair curly, he’d be the first. “My dress is fitted, not tight. It’s a dress I wear to work, not out on a date. And this is what happens to my hair when the worst roommate ever forgets to put my flat iron in my bag when she’s packing up my things. I don’t suppose you have one somewhere?”

  “An iron? It’s in the laundry room.”

  She shook her head. “Not even close to the same thing.” In the living room she sat on one of the couches but he kept going, walking back and forth in front of the fireplace. She studied him for a moment, trying to figure out what he was up to. Whatever he wanted to talk about must be pretty heavy, though she’d deal with it as long as he didn’t confess to vampire tendencies or howling at the full moon, or propose a Victorian courtship complete with chaperones and corsets.

  “Scott, you wanted to talk, so you should probably stop pacing the floor like a caged animal.”

  “You’re right. I’m not used to feeling like this. I can ski black diamonds and base jump and kayak down class-fives, but this is just . . .” He looked at her like she had some clue what he meant. “I want you to hear me out.”

  “I don’t think anything good has ever followed I want you to hear me out. It’s like saying I don’t mean to be rude or Don’t get mad.”

  He chuckled, his cheeks lifting in a grin. “Fair enough. I want you to know that I’ve always wondered how you were, what you were doing, if you moved past what had happened.”

  “I know you’ve asked Tanya about me. Whatever it is you want to say, spit it out so I can know how the rest of the day is going to go.” She put her hands on her bare knees and tilted her head to the side, letting her hair spill over her shoulder. “Are we going to have some fun while we wait for the highway to open, or am I going to spend the time here working and plotting ways to make Christa wish she’d never tossed me out of my own hotel room?”