A Summer With Snow (Frosted Seasons #1)

by Hallie Swanson

  I lean my arm past her and turn off the light, then once more hold her in my arms.

  Sunlight filters through the kitchen window. Taking sips of tea from my mug, I sit at the table peering into her eyes. She smiles and looks away, playing with the spoon in her cup. My eyes tell me how much morning suits her; she looks kinda cute dressed in her ladybird pyjamas and a pink towel wrapped around her head. I glance down at my plate and stretch out, grabbing two pieces of toast from the toast rack. Our fingers collide as she does the same, and I hear a giggle as she jumps back in her seat.

  “Er, you can have it.”

  “No, honestly you, Snow,” she says, passing me both slices.

  Sweet, but kind of awkward, like the morning after the night before; it’s just the sex thing never happened. Words elude me after what she told me last night; what do I say to her? Do I touch her, kiss her, leave her alone? She’s not just a woman; in the last few hours she’s become a predicament, though it’s one I’m sure I can handle.

  “Do you want it or not?” She giggles, holding the toast up in front of my face.

  My fingers wrap themselves around the crust, at the same time holding onto her fingers. Her glance catches mine mid-table, and this time it isn’t one to be broken, but one to be savoured.

  The table vibrates, and her eyes dip towards her phone.

  “Oh God, it’s Sebastian.”

  “Who?”

  “Sam’s uncle.”

  I frown. Losing her smile, she pulls her hand from mine and whips the towel from around her head, letting her damp hair fall free. I can see a hesitance, the way her face draws in as she takes the call.

  “Hooper, how is he?”

  The chair legs screech beneath her as she gets to her feet; she turns round with her back towards me and then with slow steps makes her way towards the chrome sink. I can hear running water and see her arm move as she turns the tap first on, then off.

  “Is there nothing else you can do?” I hear her ask, followed by a silence.

  She half turns towards me; her dark brows sit high, her eyes wide.

  “I’ve got money, Darc,” I say. “It may be worth us getting a second opinion.”

  She rubs the palm of her hand across her forehead, and then with a rather blank expression she shakes her head. She holds her hands out as if I have all the answers, a crystal ball beneath the table that can solve everything.

  I sit looking up at her, running my fingers down the length of my un-shaven face.

  “In that case, this is a decision only you can make.”

  She stands holding the phone, but says nothing. Seeing the pain on her face, it feels as though I’m intruding somehow, so I take a last sip of tea from my mug, stand, straighten my suit and leave the decision and the kitchen to her.

  I bend down to pick up a newspaper from the hall floor, then go and sit in the lounge and flick through the pages. I reach page thirty-two and hear the front door slam; I imagine that the force she used must have wrenched the hinges from the frame. I know the decision she has made.

  I slip my wallet from my trouser pocket, locate the dog-eared corner and pull out the photo of Darcy and Hooper.

  “Looks like it’s farewell then, old boy. Shame I didn’t get to know you a little better.”

  I glance down into his dark brown eyes, and can’t help wondering if he knew.

  “Damn you, Hooper, you never brought the ball back; only that once, only for me.”

  I think back to the funeral, the one day he did bring it back to me; had it been a sign, his way of saying goodbye?

  I sit for a while, allowing Darcy the time I know she needs. Popping the photo back in my wallet, I fold the newspaper and place it on the coffee table.

  Later, I head through the gardens and on down towards the stream. With the thick rope held in her hands and her legs through the black worn tyre Darcy swings from the horse chestnut. The large branch creaks as it takes her weight and she swings to and fro.

  “Darcy!” I call out as I near.

  Looking straight into my eyes, she calls back, “Don’t ask if I’m okay; don’t ask me anything.”

  I grab on to the rope above her head, slowing her down.

  “I mean it, Snow, I can’t talk about him, Mum and Dad or anything. I can’t possibly hurt any more. It hasn’t sunk in, none of it … I don’t think it ever will. Just talk about something else, or go away.”

  It’s in the back of my mind, but do I tell her? Is this the right time to mention the hospice? After Hooper it might do her good to get out of the house.

  “I’ve made plans; I’m off to London tomorrow evening.”

  “Oh, are you…” she mumbles as she looks out onto the dark water.

  “I was hoping you’d come with me?”

  “I’m on compassionate leave and haven’t got much longer left; I’ve got to go back to work.”

  “With all the money I’ve got? You don’t need to work another day in your life.”

  “But I love my job, the people.”

  I can see it’s a struggle, but she manages a weak smile.

  “And anyway, London? No thanks, I’m not in the mood for fancy hotels and bullshit.”

  She prises my hand from the swing, and spinning slightly she puts her feet onto the muddied floor and gets off, leaving the tyre to swing alone. She doesn’t speak, but starts to walk away from me, heading back in the direction of the house.

  “It’s my mum, Darc, they’ve taken her to a hospice,” I say, strolling up behind her. “She’s having palliative care; I’m going to London because this is probably the last chance I’ll get to see her.”

  She stops in her tracks. Flicking her wavy hair over her shoulder, she turns and looks at me.

  “You told me your mother was dead,” she says sharply.

  I gasp. “I’ve never said that.”

  “Yes you did, the first time I met you, you mentioned then your mother had died.”

  “Oh, right… Well, er, she always has been dead in my eyes.”

  I can see from her expression that she’s prompting me for answers, but the truth about my past is something I will take with me to the grave.

  “It would be nice if you came along … I could do with the company. Going to London to say my goodbyes is more of a duty; trust me, there’s no love lost between us. She’s really little more to me than a stranger.”

  “How can you say that about your own mother? Even with all my mum’s flaws, I’d have given anything to get to know her and have some kind of relationship.”

  She kicks the front of her shoes into the dirt.

  “You’ve got a chance with your mum. No matter how little time you have left, don’t blow it.”

  Not wanting her to think I’m totally heartless, I stand and ponder, though just for effect. My mind is on the sightseeing and the fun we will have when I get her there. I reach towards her, taking her hands in mine. I allow my eyebrows to lower, my face falling straight, knowing she will see.

  “Please, Darc, I need you with me.” I make sure my voice cracks. “And it would be nice to introduce her to my girlfriend.”

  I draw in a quick breath, shocking myself. The G word is not in my vocabulary, yet as it slips from my lips and I gaze at her it settles so easily in my mind. I have to force a half smile as I continue.

  “I know how happy it would make Mum to know I’m settled,” I tell her, though I know the truth is that she wouldn’t give a shit.

  I look down into Darcy’s eyes. Her fingers squeeze mine and she steps a little closer, then releasing me, she wraps her arms around my waist.

  “I’ve still got a couple of days before work expects me back. If it’s a problem I could always ring Chelsea, I’m sure she’ll cover for me. So yes, of course I’ll come with you, Snow; it’ll be lovely to meet your mum.”

  I rest my chin on the top of her head and roll my eyes, though my face sets itself into a victorious smile. I can’t help but wonder how the visit will pan out. Whatever, I
’m Snow, and there’s not a lot I can’t blag.

  I feel my arms tighten around Darcy; this feels so God damn perfect I’d risk anything for this woman. I feel her relax against my chest. How my lies win her over, and how easily they fall from my tongue. My mother, or should I say that woman, is nothing to me and can rot in hell for all I care; the day she dies can’t come too soon, and all the ties I have in London will finally be cut. Then Snow can finally begin to live his life… Just a few more loose ends. A smirk takes to my face. All in good time.

  After laying my red suitcase on the bed I undo the zipper. My eyes flash around the suite; bullshit or not, it looks great.

  Hearing running water, I call through to the bathroom.

  “Snow, I could fit my complete house in here.”

  The room is immense; I’ve never seen let alone slept in a bed this large or this high off the ground. A plush white towel has been shaped into a beautiful long-necked swan and sits on top of the duvet cover.

  The decor is pristine, and there are three sofas, each with loose cushions embroidered in gold and white thread. The domed ceiling is a soft cream, with sculptured patterns that seem to change shape when caught by the nightly shadows. I admire how the windows sweep around the room.

  As I start to unpack I don’t have to step away from the edge of the bed to see the view; I can see all I need to from here. I haven’t seen London by daylight, but how beautiful it looks through the darkness. As I gaze out across the city the lights look in at me like shimmering catseyes that stare through the night from the high-rise buildings and the boats in the distance, swaying on the Thames.

  “Only the best for my lady,” Snow’s voice echoes from the bathroom.

  I giggle to myself; I’m still so unsure. It would be easy to fall into his arms, but I know I should fight this, play hard to get; God, when he’s close, the way he makes me feel… I am trembling at the thought. My heart almost stopped when he called me his girlfriend. Somehow that small word changes so much and makes us feel so right. The door to the en suite swings open. My eyes widen as he strides towards me wearing only a smile and the smallest white towel I think I’ve ever seen draped around his shoulders. He doesn’t seem fazed by his nakedness. I can feel myself reddening from my neck up, but that doesn’t stop me from taking a peek. I quickly look up at the grin on his face. Snow dips his head and starts to rub at his wet hair, at the same time edging closer. The breaths that seep between my lips are loud, and I hold them back for fear that he might hear.

  “Darcy, lift your arms above your head,” he says, standing directly before me.

  His tanned physique is to die for. Steam wafts up from his broad chest. There’s a slight gap between us, yet he feels so warm. Standing here like this is everything I’ve ever pictured in my dreams; every sensation, every ounce of feeling rushes through the core of my body. The tips of his fingers take the edge of my T-shirt, and holding onto the cotton material they slowly glide up past my waist, past my breasts, and with my arms raised, past my fingers. I glance down as he drops my top onto the bed. Encased by his arms, he unclips the fastenings of my bra. I sense his chest has cooled as he leans his bare flesh against my breasts. I lower my eyes, expecting him to lift me onto the bed, and I’ve no desire to fight him. He rests his cheek against mine, and I flinch as his stubble rubs against my face. His lips part as they press against my ear, and I tilt my head ever so slightly so that they can move down to my neck.

  “You shower, Darcy; I left the water running.”

  His fingers, his lips slip away and he walks to the far side of the bed, still rubbing at his hair. Is he acting like the perfect gentleman or, after the way I’ve acted, is he just too scared to make the first move? As I look over his body the thought of him inside me is making me wet. I blush, feeling embarrassed at my own thoughts. What’s happening to you, Darcy?

  Filled with frustration, I saunter into a bathroom of wall-to-wall mirrors. I step out of my trousers and my black lace panties, and from the cold tiled floor into the shower. Blinded by steam, I lean my head back against the striking white wall tiles. I blink, screwing up my eyes as they are hit by jets of hot water. Taking the lathered soap from its porcelain dish, I rub it between my palms, touching my face, my arms. I begin circling my hands over my skin, trying to wash my frustration away; on reaching my breasts I circle my nipples … they are hard against my fingers. Still covered in soap and water, my hands dip down to my waist and on between my legs; slowly I begin to rub myself. I take his advice and pretend that’s it’s not me here, but someone else. Losing myself in my head, I feel I’m also losing my inhibitions.

  “Snow!” I cry out. “Can you come here?”

  Closing my eyes, my fingers move faster, and I groan at this pleasurable excitement. I hear the shower door open and close; then I feel his damp lips as they press and encase mine. My sex throbs for his fingers to explore, and I don’t have to wait for long, as he moves my hand and his take up their own sensual rhythm.

  His rough nails graze my skin as he opens my legs a little wider. I slide my palm down between us, down the muscular waves of his stomach, and clenching my hand I take hold of the head of his cock. It stiffens as I begin to move my hand up and down. This feels nothing like our first time, but so natural, so right, like I’m experiencing a sexual awakening; I want to explore his every damn inch. With warm water beating against my face, I kiss my way down, forging a line between his nipples and towards his muscular torso. I lap my tongue around the head of his cock, and he pulls my hair tight at the back of my head, manoeuvring my head up and down. He slides in with care, my mouth tightening around him. His strokes aren’t rough, but constant. I grip his hips, squeezing his flesh and pulling him harder into my mouth.

  His breaths come in gasps.

  “Darcy, do you want to taste Snow?” he pants.

  There’s no time to reply. His body trembles as warm creamy fluid pumps into my mouth, which I hold for a second and then swallow down. Trembling, he pulls away. I look up at him with a smile as my tongue licks my lips. He smiles open-mouthed, regaining his breath. I glimpse up at his heaving chest, which glistens.

  Sliding against his hot flesh I get to my feet; blinking towards him he pushes my wet hair away from my face. Pressed between his arms, he turns me around, pushing my breasts and flattening me against the cold tiles. I jump as his knee jerks up between my legs, opening them wide. I groan again, feeling his hard length as it brushes against the cheeks of my ass. In an instant he is pounding inside my wet folds, thrusting deeper into me. His rough nails dig their way into my shoulders blades as my body rocks back and forth against the tiles.

  “Snow…” I cry out as he sucks at my neck.

  “Darcy, I’m coming… No, not here.”

  His thrusts slow and he pulls out, leaving me gagging for more. Grabbing me between his arms, he walks from the shower, leaving the water to run, our glistening bodies dripping on the floor as we make our way back into the bedroom. He growls, throwing me onto the bed. I giggle as I bounce up and down on the mattress, and roll around in the soft cotton covers.

  “That’s the swan fucked!” He laughs as I kick the towelling bird onto the floor.

  With a cock-sure grin he stands at the base of the bed with his muscular thighs slightly apart. He gazes down. I chew on my lip; from where I lie, his cock looks immense.

  “Make love to me, Snow,” I whisper as I sit up, lean forward and tease his glistening end with my tongue.

  I feel his shudders.

  “Fucking hell, Darc! Don’t, or I’ll come.”

  With a playful grin he pushes my shoulders and I fall back into the soft pillows behind. Straddling me, his forearm slips under my back and he arches me up off the bed. I writhe beneath him as he coaxes his length inside, relaxing in the moment. As our hips move in sync, I turn my head, allowing his warm breaths to wash across my face. Feverously hot, I enjoy his invading hardness. My swollen sex takes his fingers, which he presses and rubs until I can take n
o more. Pleasurable groans explode from my lips as my body quakes and spasms in orgasm. My breaths subside, while his grow louder. I feel his whole body stiffen as he pulsates and spurts; I lie fulfilled, with a fountain of warm liquid inside me.

  I gaze up at him and he smothers my mouth with hot kisses, our breaths mingling. He pulls himself from me, and lying in one another’s arms we close our eyes.

  The moment I open my eyes there is a wide grin sitting on my face; last night was amazing and it wasn’t a dream. I turn to snuggle closer to him, but the covers have been thrown back on his side. I stretch, then toss my legs over the bedside and sit up. I can hear running water from the bathroom, and the door stands ajar.

  “Fancy some company?” I call.

  Round two, I surmise, trembling at the thought. I stare towards the door, excepting his face to peek round at any moment. I’m not a little girl any more, I’m a woman. Tingling inside, I await his presence. I roll my eyes as the door closes without even a good morning or hello. I can’t help but think his name is so apt, since he changes like the weather.

  Hearing a knock at the door, I grab a white towelling robe from a hanger in the wardrobe.

  I unlatch the door.

  “Room service, madam,” a deep voice calls out.

  I look up at a middle-aged man dressed in navy trousers and a white shirt, who passes me a silver tray. I smile, taking it out of his hands, thank him and ask him to wait. Hurrying back into the room, I place the breakfast down on an oval table near the window. I grab a couple of pounds from my purse, which is buried at the bottom of my grey duffel bag.

  “Here, thank you,” I say, placing the money in his upturned palm.

  He peers down and it’s as though his eyebrows meet; then, without so much as a thank you, he turns and walks towards the lift.