"Brent," I gasped, my hands in his hair. "You don't have to—"
He pulled off long enough to meet my eyes. "I want to. Want to taste you, make you fall apart."
And then his mouth was on me again and I couldn't think anymore. Could only feel the heat and pressure building, his hands on my hips holding me steady, the wet sounds and my own broken moans filling the room. The room was warm and golden, and outside the snow kept falling, and I'd never felt so undone.
I came with a cry, my whole body shaking, and he worked me through it before kissing his way back up my body.
"Your turn," I managed when I could speak again.
I returned the favor, taking my time learning what made him moan, what made his hips buck, what made him curse and pull at my hair. He was gorgeous like this—all his careful control shattered. His taste was salt and musk and uniquely him, and the sounds he made—low groans and gasped curses—were better than any praise he could give my writing.
When he came, he whispered my name, broken and reverent, and I felt it in my chest—sharp and sweet and terrifying.
After, we lay tangled together, both of us boneless and sated. The room smelled like sex and his soap, and the snow outside made everything feel muffled and safe.
"I don't think that was in the workshop materials," I said eventually.
"No?" His chest vibrated with quiet laughter against my cheek. "Must have missed that handout."
"Definitely an oversight."
He pressed a kiss to my hair. For a while we just lay there, listening to each other breathe.
"Brent?"
"Yeah?"
"I don't want this to be just a retreat thing." The words came out quiet but sure. "I know it's complicated and scary and probably impractical. But I don't want this to end when we leave here."
He pulled me closer, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "Neither do I."
"We'll figure it out?"
"We'll figure it out." He tilted my face up to look at him. "I promise."
I believed him. Maybe I was naive, maybe I was setting myself up for heartbreak. But in that moment, wrapped in his arms while snow fell outside and Christmas lights twinkled somewhere in the lodge below, I chose to believe we could make this work.
We fell asleep like that, the world outside our room temporarily forgotten.
Tomorrow was the last full day together. Then we would have to figure everything out. But tonight, we had this. We had each other.
And for now, that was everything.
Chapter 7
Brent
I woke to Jason's alarm and his sleepy grumble as he fumbled to silence it. "No. Too early."
"What time is it?" My voice came out rough with sleep.
"Six." He rolled over to face me, hair mussed and eyes still heavy-lidded. "We have to be out by noon and workshop is at nine."
Six hours. Six hours left in this room, this bed, this snow-globe world where we'd built something too good to be temporary.
"Come here." I pulled him closer, threading my fingers through his sleep-warm hair.
He came without hesitation, pressing the length of his body against mine. Already half-hard against my thigh. "Brent, we don't have time—"
