A laugh bursts out of me before I can stop it.
We trudge through the snow together, the ranch muted under a blanket of white. I can barely see ten feet in front of me, but Sam knows exactly where he’s going.
Once the main house comes into view, its windows glowing like a beacon, he says, “Once everything settles down, we’ll use the satellite phone to call into town. Get everything squared away with your car. Your stuff.”
“Thanks,” I say, glancing up at him.
He looks down at me, snowflakes caught in his lashes, his cheeks pink from the cold.
“No need to thank me, darlin’.”
And the way he says darlin’—soft, certain, like it’s not just a nickname but a promise—warms me from the inside out.
Phern rushes past us up the steps, muttering something about hot tea and frozen toes as she disappears into the house.
Sam waits until the door clicks shut behind her before leaning in, his body blocking the wind, his hand still wrapped around mine. Then, without warning, he dips his head and brushes his lips against mine. The kiss barely lasts a heartbeat, but it leaves me breathless.
“One more question?” he murmurs, voice warm despite the chill.
I nod, my breath catching in my throat.
Sam’s mouth curls into that slow, sinful smile I’m beginning to crave.
“Alright,” he says, brushing a snowflake from my cheek with his thumb. “What’s your favorite position?”
My eyebrows shoot up. “Seriously?”
He shrugs, all easy charm and devilish innocence. “You said one more question.”
I try to glare at him, but my grin betrays me. “That’s private.”
“Oh, now you’re shy?”
I lean up on my toes, close enough for my lips to just barely graze his. “I like being on top.”
His breath hitches, and that playful glint in his eyes turns downright wicked.
“Careful, Charlie,” he murmurs. “Keep talkin’ like that, and I can’t promise to be a gentleman.”
I press one more kiss to the corner of his mouth, then tug the door open and step into the warmth of the house with a smug little smile.
“Maybe I don’t want you to be a gentleman,” I toss over my shoulder.
The blast of heat from the fireplace greets me the second I step inside, the scent of wood smoke curling around the air. My cheeks are flushed and not just from the cold, but from the look Sam gave me just before I walked in.
He follows a beat later, brushing snow from his shoulders, that wrecked groan still echoing in my ears.
“You’re gonna be hell on my self-control,” he mutters, just loud enough for me to hear.
I toss him a look over my shoulder. “That’s the idea.”
From the living room, Phern calls out, “If you two are done flirting in the snow, I made cocoa.”
Sam leans closer, voice low. “You’re lucky she walked in when she did.”
I grin, pulling off my coat. “Am I?”
His eyes darken again, but this time there’s something else mixed in. And it hits me low and deep. This isn’t just playful. It’s building. It’s real.
