It shakes out to be a great plan, but will she go for it? Would I, if the tables were turned? I don’t know.
The only thing I can sell her on is the fact that we share a past together – albeit brief – and the chemistry is still strong between us. I feel it building like the intensity of an avalanche as it erupts and zigzags out of control down a mountainside.
Hollis raises her eyes to mine as we sway and shift side-to-side to the music. “I didn’t get a chance to ask you how your recovery is going. You look good out there on the slopes again.”
I waggle my brows and give her a sly grin. “So, you’ve been watching me perform in the competitions?”
She responds with a roll of her eyes. “I have to keep tabs on everyone – client or potential client. It’s part of my job, dumbass.”
I snicker at the forcefulness of her response. I know the truth. I can see it in her expression. She likes watching me ski. And I like knowing she does.
My hands naturally gravitate lower to the dip of her back, just above the perfect swell of her ass, which I remember all too well. The way it fit in my hands, as I squeezed and plumped the firm globes.
I can feel my cock growing hard inside my trousers and know the instant she recognizes it too. But I’m not a teen boy, embarrassed by my response to her. I’m a man who has plenty of experience with this woman and wants to see where the night will lead. She flutters in my hold and I just pull her in again.
My palm slowly rolls over the cushiony curve, and I clamp my hand down, squeezing the cheek and hauling her flush to my body. She inhales a sharp breath and for a moment, my dick nestles happily between the sweet juncture of her thighs, straining to experience more of this connection.
Perhaps it’s the song change to a more upbeat tempo or the loud party cry from a very drunk contestant across the room, but Hollis seems to spook at how close our bodies have gravitated. She jerks back in my arms, as if we were tapped on the shoulders by a Catholic school dance chaperone, reminding us to keep a respectable distance.
“Thanks for the dance, but I think I’m done. I have to go check on what’s happening over there” – she bobs her head toward the contestant now dancing on the table – “and then I’ll meet up with you later.”
She steps out of my arms, leaving me bereft as I drop them to my side, already missing her touch. Hollis takes two steps back toward the crowd before she turns around.
“Kellan, don’t fuck around with me tonight. I need to know you’re serious about this contract otherwise, there’s no sense in meeting.”
I’m surprised by her statement. For some reason she believes I’m not truly interested in working with her and becoming her client.
If only she knew that I’m more interested in becoming something much more than that to her and wanting a very different type of agreement.
“I’m not fucking with you, Hollis. I promise. I do want to work with you. I just need us to both agree on this one other condition.”
She scans my face to assess my veracity with her bullshit meter. Seemingly satisfied, her shoulders relax, and the crease between her brows disappears.
“Okay then. Let me go get a handle on this mess over here and I’ll meet you at the…”
“My chalet,” I interrupt. “Meet me at my chalet. Number ten. I’ll be there waiting for you.”
And before she can protest, I wave a hand in the air, turning on my heels to leave and holler over my shoulder, “Auf Wiedersehen, Hollis.”
If she says no, I’m fucked. I’m out of alternatives to remain in the U.S. after this year’s season ends, and I’ll have to return to Switzerland.
It’s not that I hate my homeland, but there are so few options over there for a guy with my skills and situation. I have no family left. My parents are both gone, and I am an only child. The only living relative I have left is my aunt Elena who doesn’t even live most of the time in Switzerland. She’s a renowned yogi who lives in India where she meditates, practices her yoga skills at a retreat center for crazy Americans and Europeans who flock there for spiritual enlightenment.
While I’ve learned to practice yoga myself for the benefits it provides me in strength and flexibility, especially after my injury, I don’t find myself using it on the reg to open up my mind and all that crazy shit. But to each his or her own.
Needless to say, I’m happy and content in Colorado and want to stay here to work as a coach for the foreseeable future. But it all hangs in the balance based on Hollis’s response.
I struggle to get my nerves under control, which is crazy stupid, since I’ve skied down the toughest and steepest slopes in the world. But asking her this impossible favor is almost more than I can bare. I toss back a shot of Jägermeister and cough, my eyes watering from the strong liquor. But I need the liquid courage that only a boost of alcohol can do.
The knock on my door has me bolting upright in my chair, and I jump to my feet, rushing toward the front door. As my hand settles over the handle, I take a large gulp of air and swing open the door to find a wide-eyed Hollis, shivering in her down parka.
I usher her in with a sweep of my hand. She’s trembling from the cold, even though she has on her white parka, hat, and gloves. The bare legs and high heels don’t help matters, nor does the slinky party dress she has on.
“Come here, let’s get you warm.” I tug at her hands, guiding her in front of my fireplace that’s been blazing since I returned to my room.
I motion for her to move her hands, which are clenched tight under her chin as she shivers uncontrollably.
She drops her hands to her sides, and I unzip her jacket, tugging at the puffball on the top of her hat and removing it from her head. I slip the sleeves down her arms, depositing all the outerwear on the chair next to us.
