The Winter We Collided: A Small Town Single Dad Romance (Ocean Pines Series Book 2)

by Victoria Denault

  “Just when I think you can’t get more perfect,” I say and pull us both to our feet. I swear to God, she may just be my soulmate.

  We don’t make it home until after eleven, but I’m not tired. I’m happy and excited, and the more time we spend together, the deeper those feelings become. There’s been no lull in conversation, no weird vibes, no uncomfortable moments. We share stories about growing up, we talk about our jobs. We laugh so much my belly feels like I’ve been doing sit-ups. It’s so easy and comfortable I don’t even feel guilty or weird avoiding the secret in my past. We have so much else to discuss, it’s easy. It’s the part I like best because I’m suddenly a horny teenager in the way we both, accidentally-on-purpose, touch each other all night. I brush her hair back when it falls in her face, she wipes ketchup off my lip with her thumb, I hold her hand as we walk. It’s all so natural and easy. God, I hate that word, but really, it is. I could stay up all night with her. I don’t want to say good-night.

  When I pull into the driveway I notice the stairs I shoveled earlier need to be shoveled again. I look over at her and cut the engine. “You should head upstairs.”

  As soon as it leaves my mouth, her face falls. I can see it clearly, even in the dim light in my car. She’s disappointed. “Oh. Okay. Well, thanks for everything. I had a really great time.”

  She thinks I’m ending the date. I undo my seatbelt and lean closer and brush my mouth against hers. It’s a struggle to keep it soft and light. “I was hoping the date wasn’t over. I was hoping we could hang out more after I shovel the stairs.”

  “Logan, no. You are not my indentured servant.”

  I don’t answer her. I just jump out of the car and walk around and open her door. When I step out, she opens her mouth to argue again, but I close the door behind her and gently push her back against it, pressing my body into hers. A wave of warmth floods through me, and then I lean forward until our foreheads touch and her eyes close. This intimacy between us is just as arousing as the feel of her hard body or the touch of her lips.

  “Look, I liked sledding with you. I’d like to do it again, with you and River together. If you fall again shoveling these damn stairs, then you won’t be able to toboggin for a while. You’ll be out for the season,” I whisper, and her eyes spring open. “So my intentions are completely selfish here. Also I have to save my shoes from another pukefest.”

  She pushes me away with a cackle of laughter. “Well, in that case, how do I say no?”

  I grab the shovel from beside the garage, and she approaches the snow covered stairs. She clutches the railing. “I have to take Boss and Stevie out before she pees in the house. Her old bladder waits for no one.”

  I watch her climb the stairs very carefully, and she emerges a few minutes later with Boss and Stevie who are both wearing winter coats. I try not to laugh and she gets jokingly defensive. “They’re from Hawaii. They don’t have Chewie’s ability to handle cold.”

  She walks by me and to the side yard where she puts them down. I continue shoveling. I get seven of the ten steps done before she climbs them again with the pups.

  “Come up when you’re done,” she says when she reaches the porch. “Let me warm you up.”

  I stop shoveling and look up at her. She realizes the double entendre at the same time our eyes connect and I watch her skin turn pink, but she doesn’t take it back. She just smiles shyly and my cock stirs in my pants. Somehow, I manage to muster a casual, “Okay.”

  When I was a kid I used to loath shoveling the driveway. I would actually pay Terra or Finn half my allowance to help me to cut the torturous chore in half. I once pretended to have the flu and had to miss one of my hockey games, but it was worth it to not have to shovel. But right this second, I’m gleefully shoveling faster or harder than I ever have. Because I needed to get upstairs before she changed her mind about warming me up. There was a brand new condom in my wallet ready to go tonight. If Chloe wanted to pick up where we left off last night, I was ready.

  When the stairs are finally spotless, I tuck the shovel against the side of the house and go back to my apartment to get Chewie. It’s better he’s with me so that I don’t have a reason to interrupt whatever we’re about to do. Chewie pulls himself off his bed in the corner of the living room and trots over to me, tail wagging wildly. I rub the top of his head. “Hey Chewie, do me a favor and finish your business tonight as quick as you can so daddy can go upstairs and get naked, okay?”

  The dog tilts his head as if he’s actually pondering my words, and then runs past me into the yard. I shut the door to my place and watch him sniff around the yard. Thankfully he chose to humor me and relieves himself super quickly so that we’re climbing the stairs and opening the door to Chloe’s house just a few short minutes later.

  “Chloe?” I call.

  “Kitchen!” she calls back and I try not to feel disappointment. I was really hoping she’d say bedroom. As soon as I step into the front hall, I smell melted chocolate. I toe out of my boots and watch Chewie rush over to Boss who is by the couch.

  He growls at Chewie but both their tails are wagging as they sniff each other’s butts. “You two are dysfunctional.”

  I make my way to the kitchen. She’s standing at the island pouring creamy, chocolatey milk from a saucepan into mugs. I start to pull off my gloves. “Hot chocolate?” I ask. “This is what you meant by warming me up?”

  She walks around the island and hands me a mug. Her gray eyes focus on mine but I can tell it’s hard. She’s embarrassed. “No. That’s not what I meant, but I’ve never been bold or forward until last night. And as you know by my disappearing act in the middle of the night, that freaked me out. So even though I totally want to be that way with you again… because it suddenly feels insane that I’ve spent five years keeping my hormones on a shelf, the neurotic, shy side of me is winning the battle tonight. So I thought, might as well offer you some more hot chocolate in case I’m too damn shy to let my hormones win tonight.”

  I watch the tip of her tongue slip out and wet her bottom lip, then she pulls that lip between her teeth, nervously. I reach up, place my hand under her chin and my thumb gently on that bottom lip and pull it out from her teeth. “If someone is going to bite those lips, I would like it to be me.”

  I can see the hesitation melt off her gorgeous features so I lean in and kiss her. Her lips are still cool from being outside, and they open almost upon contact, and her mouth and tongue are warm and inviting. I sweep through her mouth softly, slowly. I almost forget the mugs of piping hot liquid in her hands when I tangle one hand in her hair, but then she starts to break the kiss. Every fiber of my being doesn’t want to stop, but I do and take a step back. I take one of the mugs from her and walk back toward the front hall. “I should get out of this jacket and at least try the hot chocolate before I go back to trying to kiss you senseless.”

  We pass Chewie, Stevie, and Boss who are all lying together by her fireplace. Boss is almost on top of Chewie.

  “I think your Boss has a bit of a crush on Chewie.”

  “As long as he’s happy I don’t care who he loves,” she says with a smile. I laugh and take a sip of hot chocolate.

  She watches me intently. I feel her gaze like a warm caress. She’s focusing on my mouth and I can tell she likes it – and what I’ve done with it so far. I want to do so much more with it. I want it on every part of her body. I swallow the thought and the warm beverage in my mouth. “It’s good, but the kiss was better.”

  “I agree,” she replies quickly. I turn so we’re face-to-face again and without a word, she takes my mug. When our fingers brush, heat ripples through me.. Chloe places both mugs on the sideboard in the hall next to the bowl she keeps her keys in. By the time she turns back to face me, I’m directly behind her, so close that our bodies brush just about everywhere. I am definitely not complaining.

  She reaches up and cups my face and brings it to hers as my arms snake around her waist. I start to get that addictive elixir of n
eed and excitement I felt last night. The one that almost, but not quite, feels the way I would feel when I slipped vodka in my orange juice at the restaurant when I worked shifts as a teen. Back then, alcohol was the only thing that made me feel fully alive. Now, apparently, it’s Chloe Hale.

  My hands twist the fabric of her sweater at the base of her back, and I tighten my arms, pulling her so tightly against me I’m worried for a second I might crush her, but she doesn’t seem to mind.

  She slips her hands underneath the thick parka I’m still wearing. Her hands move to my shoulders, and she pushes the coat off them. I let go of her only long enough for me to get out of the coat.

  I am rock hard inside my jeans, desire getting stronger with every touch. Every kiss sends a sense of urgency coursing through my veins. I know she’s been through a lot with her divorce and her car accident, and I don’t want to fuck this up but…

  Oh God it feels so good.

  “Should we slow down?” I force myself to ask as my pulse hammers under the graze of her lips skimming the scruff on the side of my neck, just under my jaw. “I really don’t want to freak you out again.”

  “I bought condoms today,” she replies and I pull back to take in her expression with my wide eyes. She looks calm and relaxed and there’s definitely desire in those smokey eyes. “I would really hate to waste money by not using them.”

  “I appreciate a frugal woman,” I tell her with a cheeky grin. “Let me show you how much.”

  I lift her, and she wraps her legs around my waist.

  Our mouths find each other again as I walk us backward, out of the front entryway and toward the staircase.

  17

  Chloe

  Our lips stay locked the entire way up to my bedroom. I keep my legs hooked around his waist as he gently lays me back on my bed because I am obsessed with the feel of him rutted up, hard and thick, against the long-neglected spot between my legs.

  We stay like this, just grinding and kissing, touching, pushing and pulling our bodies against each other, shirts lifting, jeans dipping, for a long time. It’s amazing and perfect like last night, but it’s not enough. I need more.

  I drop my legs from his waist and my arms from around his shoulders. He thinks that’s a sign of hesitation and breaks the kiss, and his fingers that had been pressed between us undoing the button on my jeans stills. Our eyes connect. His mouth is pink and plump from the kissing. His eyes heavy with lust. He takes a deep but ragged breath. “We can slow down.”

  “I know,” I say and start to sit up. He moves backward, off of me, and sits facing me on the bed.

  “I mean it, Chloe. I’m not that guy who needs to go straight for the bedroom,” he promises me, and he leans forward and ghosts my lips with his. “Something about you makes me want to lose control, but I have spent the last five years controlling every aspect of my life. I am willing to try and control this—my need for you—if it’s what you need.”

  His need for me. Oh my God, no man has ever told me he needed me. That I was a desire he could barely control. That gives me more confidence than I’ve had in…well, forever.

  “You can follow all the made-up rules about waiting and still end up losing,” I say in a murmur, running my fingertips along the back of his neck and into his hair. My eyes find his again. “You make me feel alive for the first time in half a decade. I don’t want to stop.”

  No more words are spoken. He uses his mouth to communicate in a different way. He kisses me again, deep, hard, and long as we start peeling off each other’s clothes.

  The light in the hall is on, the bedroom door open. Between that and the moonlight and streetlight tumbling in from my open bedroom window, the room is way more lit than his apartment was last night. He will see me, really see me, for the first time. I’m naked, scars and all, in front of this beautiful, sexy, equally naked man, but my heart is racing for all the right reasons. I’m exposed but not vulnerable, excited but not nervous. My body is turned on but my brain is blissfully turned off.

  As his fingers find their way inside me, I let out a sound, a soft wavering moan which he captures in a kiss. When the kiss breaks, he murmurs. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

  I touch him, wrap my hand around his length, and he melts into me. He needs this and wants this just as much as I do. Desperation chokes his confession, and it takes away all my inhibitions.

  “Where are those condoms?”

  I sit up, reach for the drawer on my night table, and pull it open. Inside is the newly purchased, unopened box. Logan stands up beside the bed as he grabs the box and opens it, pulling out a condom. I swing my feet over the side of the bed and watch. I know watching him slide that on is going to be the hottest thing ever. He’s so confident in his body, in himself. It’s sexy beyond words.

  He starts to tear it open, but he stops and leans over me, and I hold his face and kiss him again. But then he slowly drops to his knees, and his hands gently hold my hips. Suddenly a flicker of insecurity starts to battle with my lust. He’s so close to my torso, eye-level with all the scars and rolls that have happened due to skin puckering and the fact that I can’t exercise like I used to before the crash. But he doesn’t even glance at any of that. He kisses my left knee and looks up at me through lashes much more lush than any man should be allowed to have.

  He’s kissing his way up my thigh, and his hands are slipping down the outside of my legs while his lips ghost up the inside. Longing wins the war with insecurity because the idea of his mouth, his tongue, exploring me intimately is suddenly as essential to my existence as air or food. My legs fall open and my head falls back before he even presses his lips to my core. And then he does and oh my God. My hands slip into is hair, and with zero shame, I hold him to my pussy as he takes long, slow licks. I come seconds later, hard and fast. My hands drop from his hair, but it doesn’t matter, his pressure doesn’t decrease. I wasn’t holding him to me, he was leaning in, as ravenous to give me pleasure as I was to take it.

  He kisses my thighs again, and as I lay panting on the bed, I can hear him tear open the condom wrapper, but then he seems to hesitate, so I open my eyes. “Don’t stop.”

  He smiles. “I wasn’t going to, trust me. I was just enjoying the view. You are so fucking hot, Chloe, all wet, quivering and panting.”

  Butterflies swirl in my belly. And then, when he slides into me, I’m lighter and freer and happier than I have been in half a decade. I find myself running from a new, impending orgasm rather than chasing it. I want this feeling, his skin against mine, his body inside mine, his lips over mine, to last forever. But it’s a battle I can’t win, and with a crushing, blinding force, I’m overcome by another incredible orgasm. I’m heavy and light, tingling and numb, happy and euphoric all in one long, blissful, pulsing instant.

  “Chloe…” my name rasps out of him and he pushes hard and fast, over and over. I tilt my hips and palm his perfect ass. He suddenly shudders and comes with a deep guttural grunt of satisfaction.

  My hands move to wrap around his back. I want to keep him against me. I’m not ready to let go. His lips tickle my collarbone as he whispers words I can’t hear against my skin. I know they’re beautiful, I can feel them even if I can’t hear them.

  18

  Logan

  In her bathroom the next morning, I catch a glimpse of my face in the mirror. I look happy. I am happy. Sex does that, but this—the feeling in my chest of contentment bordering on euphoria—comes from more than just coming for the first time in a long time with another human being. This feeling comes from all the stuff that makes up this particular other human being. Chloe’s vulnerability, her sensuality, her spirit, and more than anything, her complete and unwavering trust in me. She trusted me to help her when she needed it, she trusted me with her affection, and now with her body, and hopefully soon her heart. Because as crazy and insane as it seems, I think I’m already trusting her with mine.

  I run my hands through my hair and turn to find her standing in
the doorway. She’s got my t-shirt on and a pair of baby pink, or blush as she would call it, underwear. She looks ridiculously sexy. I’m still butt naked, which I remember when her smoky eyes sweep over me. She walks over and kisses me, wrapping her arms around my neck. “Do you have time for breakfast before work?”

  I nod. “My shift isn’t until seven tonight.”

  “I always eat before work because I get so busy when I have a design project that I usually forget lunch,” she says. “Which is actually very cost efficient when you’re on a tight budget, trying to keep the house and paying down medical debt.”

  I can’t even imagine what it must have cost for all the operations she’s had. Our eyes connect and she shakes her head. “Don’t look at me like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like you feel sorry for me. I hate that look. I’m doing fine,” Chloe says and smiles. “Just tell me if you like French toast.”

  “Love it.”

  “Throw something on and meet me downstairs,” she says and leaves the bathroom.

  “You’re wearing my shirt,” I call out.

  “Lucky for you, no shirt, no shoes, and I’ll still give you service,” she calls back, and I hear her feet on the stairs. I smile to myself. This girl feels so easy.

  I wander back into the bedroom and grab my underwear and jeans off the floor. I pull them both on, leaving the button on my jeans undone because I’m lazy. I head downstairs. She’s standing with the fridge door open, blocking her from my view for a second, so I’m confused and concerned when she says, “I’m okay, I promise. I’m just angry and completely fed up. I need you to talk to him. I don’t have the money to hire another lawyer and fight him, but this is harassment.”