With the skates on, he’s even taller, looming over my small frame, his molten eyes flared with need. “I’m having fun, Snowflake. But I’ll be having even more fun later when you’re on your knees, when I show you just how much I love when you’re a mouthy brat. I’m still thinking about the dressing room. About how tightly your needy pussy squeezed my fingers. I’m about to pop a damn semi in the middle of an ice rink.” The deep timbre of his voice in my ear has me pressing my thighs together, my clit now throbbing along with the erratic beat of my heart. He brushes his nose along my jaw in a way that has me shivering, and not at all from the cold.
I’m in danger of doing something insane, like dropping to my knees right in this very spot when someone suddenly crashes into the sideboard right next to us.
“Fuck,” Jackson curses and then laughs. “C’mon, let’s get out of here.”
Not that I needed any convincing, but he takes my hand in his, and together, we skate off the ice to turn in our skates.
After putting our shoes back on and grabbing another hot chocolate for the walk back to the hotel we got in the city, we take the path through the busy park. It’s getting dark now, but there are still tons of people out skating, strolling through the park, and some having snowball fights.
I spot a few kids on the ground in the snow-covered grass making snow angels, and I turn to Jackson.
“You know I’ve never made a snow angel? It seems like something so small and inconsequential, but even as a kid, I never made one.”
He stares back at me, blinking, “Never?”
“Nope. I’m an only child, Jackson. I never had anyone to play with on snow days.”
My gaze drifts back out to the kids rolling around in the fluffy snow until I feel a tug at my hand, and Jackson’s taking my hot chocolate and setting it onto a nearby bench alongside his.
“What are you doing?”
“Emma, we’re making a fucking snow angel. Right now. You can’t live your entire life never having made a snow angel.” He’s pulling me toward the grass, but I dig my heels in, stopping him.
I shake my head. “I am not lying down in that cold snow! Are you crazy?”
“Yes, we are. You have to.”
Clearly, the man has way more strength than I do, not to mention weight and height, so he continues to drag me toward the grass until we’re away from everyone else, an undisturbed section of fluffy snowy blanket beneath our feet.
“Jackson, I am not going to get soaking wet—we’ll free—”
I don’t even get the words out before he’s pulling me down with him, both of us tumbling together into the snow. I land with an oomph on top of him, his body cushioning my fall. Our eyes lock as we breathe heavily, neither of us moving as time seems to still. I can feel this moment in the pounding of my heart, in the fluttering of my pulse. The pull between us.
Then he smiles slyly and pushes me off him onto my back on the snow. “Watch and learn, Snowflake. Watch and learn.”
My laugh bubbles out of me as he dramatically moves his arms and legs in a jumping-jack motion, making a snow angel that must be the size of four normal ones.
God, this man.
Emotion creeps its way into my lungs, making it hard for them to expand and even harder for me to control the way my heart thrashes in my chest at the sight of this massive man in the snow, making a snow angel simply because I’ve never done it before.
He didn’t care about the cold or that he would be completely soaked the entire walk back to the hotel because of it. He did it without hesitation, and it makes flurries erupt uncontrollably in my stomach while a realization slams into me full force.
I like Jackson Pearce.
He’s kind and compassionate. I like that I can laugh with him and that even the most simple things feel like more fun than I’ve had in years. He listens to me but also challenges me. Most of all, I feel comfortable around him, and that scares me.
It scares me because it means that these feelings are real, and it’s not just physical between us anymore. It feels like more than one heated moment that we gave in to, more than this one day.
“Emma?”
“Hmm?” I say, my gaze on the stars above us.
His gloved hand reaches for me, and then his fingers lace between mine. For a second, we’re silent, hand in hand on our backs in the snow, staring up at the inky-black sky dotted with bright stars. Just two snow angels, holding hands.
I feel more at peace than I have in a long time.
“Beautiful,” he says, and I nod in agreement.
“Breathtaking.”
Except when I glance over, he’s not looking at the stars at all. He’s looking at me.
Back at the hotel, after a shower and changing into something warm, I’m bundled up in front of the fire with my notebook and pen. I didn’t expect there to be a fireplace in our room, but Jackson upgraded to the executive suite as his way of apologizing for the motel debacle. Even though I told him there was no need to apologize.
We could’ve booked two rooms, but at this point, I think we’ve dropped the pretense that we’d be sleeping apart.
“Are you working this late?” Jackson says as he walks up. He’s freshly showered and shirtless. My gaze rakes over his muscled torso, drinking in every inch of his chest and abs, down to the pajama bottoms hung low on his hips. His hair is damp and brushed back from his face, and for a moment, I forget what it is I was even working on in the first place until I glance back down at my notebook.
“Yeah, I just wanted to go over a few things for the party. I’m feeling anxious about it.”
I honestly haven’t even thought about the party for most of the day. I was having so much fun with Jackson that the only thing I could focus on was him. Even now that reality has crept back in, my to-do list feels not quite as important. And that makes me feel like all of my carefully crafted boxes are beginning to crumble little by little. Having things organized and everything going according to plan is the way I keep control of a situation, and right now, I’m beginning to feel that control slipping away. I’m just not ready to admit that out loud to even myself, let alone Jackson.
13
emma
The most wonderful time of the year
I can’t even believe I’m saying this, but I miss Jackson.
I miss his smile, our constant bickering, and the way that he plays with my hair as I fall asleep. I miss how much fun I have when I’m with him. I just miss… him.
It’s something I never anticipated happening. Lately, I feel like I say that all the time.
It’s barely been twenty-four hours since we returned home from the city, back to real life, since we left behind the bubble we found ourselves in while away from Strawberry Hollow.
We’re back to where he can’t just grab my hand as we walk on the street because the entire town would see. God, I can’t even tell my best friend, Katie, about this because I don’t know what “this” even is.
We got stuck together planning this party, then had incredible sex that led to even more incredible sex.
But the two days we spent together felt like more than just sex.
It feels like he’s slowly sneaking inside my heart, and I’m scared to think about what that could actually mean.