“Don’t worry,” he says, dropping his voice, almost too soft for the wind to carry. “I’ve got you.”
Sterling pulls his goggles back over his eyes and steps behind me, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off him even through all the layers.
“Okay,” he says, low and steady, “your shoulders are stiff. You’ve got to let them turn with your hips.” His hands come down on my waist, firmly, guiding me through the motion.
The contact nearly short-circuits my brain. His palms are exactly where they used to be—where I used towantthem—and it’s all I can think about.
“Like this,” he murmurs, twisting me gently.
I swallow hard, trying to pay attention, but my knees feel weak, my heart pounding like I’m back in one of those moments where his touch meant everything. The distraction is enough that when I try to shift my weight, my balance tips.
“Shit—”
I start to go down, but Sterling reacts instantly, wrapping his arms around me in an attempt to keep me upright. It doesn’t work, and we tumble into the snow, with him taking most of the fall.
When the world stops spinning, I realize he’s braced over me, one arm sunk into the snow beside my head. His chest presses into mine, his face only inches away, and my breath catches.
And then—God help me—I realize his thigh is wedged firmly between my legs, pressing exactly where I don’t want to remember how good he used to make me feel.
The silence stretches, thick and charged. I can feel his breath fogging against my cheek. I may not be able to see his eyes through the goggles, but I know his gaze is locked on mine.
No. Absolutely not.
I shove at his chest, hard enough to topple him sideways into the snow.
“Smooth,” I snap, sitting up and brushing snow from my jacket before shoving my goggles up. “Real professional. I bet all your students get this level of hands-on service?”
He smirks, propping himself up on an elbow and pushing his goggles up too. “Only the difficult ones.”
“Difficult?” My eyes narrow.
“Yeah.” His grin widens. “The ones who fight me every step of the way, but secretly love it.”
I let out a fake laugh, reaching down to unclip from the board before pushing myself to my feet and brushing snow off my pants. “If you’re waiting for me to start loving it, you’ll be waiting longer than three years.”
“Oh, yeah? How long, Hart?”
“A lifetime,” I growl. “Eternity.”
I grab the board, deliberately turning my back on him before he can fire back, but even with my back to him, I can feel his eyes on me. Heated and dangerous.
FIVE
STERLING
Late afternoon sunlightspills across the slopes, painting the snow gold and pink as the sun begins its slow decline behind the mountain.
It’s quieter now that the big crowds have thinned out. Perfect conditions to glide down the mountain a couple times. Too bad I can’t enjoy any of it—not with Maisy strapped to her snowboard in front of me, swaying like she’s about to eat snow at any second.
“Alright,” I call, closing the small gap between us. “Keep your shoulders angled downhill, and your knees soft. Stop fighting the board.”
“I am soft,” she snaps back, her nose scrunching under her goggles.
I bite back a laugh. “No, you’re not. You’re stiff as a board.”
“I’m not stiff!” She bends her knees dramatically, overcompensating, and instantly wobbles back and forth.
I dart forward, my hands grabbing her elbows to steady her. Warmth floods through my gloves and I force myself to let go, stepping back like she burned me. Too close.
