“Thanks for helping me face my fears,” she says.
“That was all you.” Then, having some fun with her, I scoop up a handful of snow, my grin taunting as I pack it between my gloved hands. “Ever had a snowball fight?”
“Chaz!” she shrieks, trying to dodge the icy projectile. It hits her with a soft splat on the arm.
“All right,” she says, giving me her camera to put in my bag, and warns, “It’s on now.”
“Give it your best, Blue.”
And she does, surprising me with her competitive spirit and damn good aim.
We run around like kids, laughing as we duck behind benches and hurl snowballs at each other. Lexie is carefree, and I totally dig this side of her—breathless, gorgeous, and covered in snow. We call a truce after she lands a final shot to my shoulder and make a mad dash to the café.
Inside, I flick on the lights, and we stomp off our boots.
“This feels so much better,” she says of the warm interior, shrugging out of her coat.
Whatever I was going to say flees from my mind. She stands there in a sage-green turtleneck tucked into fitted jeans with athick black belt riding on her hips. Her long legs seem to go on forever, and her stiff nipples make two distinct points against the snug fabric.
My throat tightens, and I deliberately move my gaze from those beckoning tips to the relative safety of her hair. It falls in mink waves, glinting beneath the Edison bulbs.
She rubs her hands together. “I could really use that drink.”
I could really use a taste of her, and just like that, my head takes a trip to fantasyland—Lexie’s shirt and bra already on the floor, her on the counter, my mouth sucking on those tight little nipples, teeth grazing the tips—fuck!I can’t let my thoughts veer off and face her with a hard-on. Moving behind the counter, I grab the Kahlúa, Baileys, and chocolate from the fridge, hoping that working with my hands will help me keep them off her.
I blend ganache, steamed milk, and a shot of decaf espresso in a serving cup.
“I’m excited to try this.” She smiles, pressing the curves of her ass against the counter, her nipples still peaked despite the warmth of the room. Killing me.
I whip the cream and liqueurs together until they’re silky smooth. The designs can be tricky. They require precision, technique, and the foam to cooperate. With her watching, I’ve got to nail this on the first try. Holding the pitcher at a slight angle, I pour it slowly into the center of the drink, letting the foam rise to the surface. As it does, I twist my wrist and turn the cup in my other hand, coaxing the pattern I’m after.
Lexie pushes off the counter to get a closer look; her scent tickling my senses isn’t helping with the hard-on situation at all.
“Where did you learn to do this?”
“YouTube videos and trial and error.” I set the pitcher and mug down, revealing the moon and stars I’ve created, the foam rippling like the lake.
“Wow!” Her eyes widen. “I can’t believe you made this.”
“I was inspired by our night.”
“You truly say the best things.” She places her palm on top of my hand. Her skin is soft, and her long and elegant fingers sport short, rounded nails. “Thank you for everything you do to make me feel special.”
Emotion and desire beat wildly in my chest. “You are special, Lex.”
Her lashes flutter, her throat working on a swallow. “So are you.”
I cup her flushed cheek. The boundary she’s drawn is like a fragile thread stretched taut between us. “Will you let me kiss you?”
“I . . . we shouldn’t.” Her breath quickens.
“Why?”
“Because once we cross that line, we won’t be able to go back to how it was.”
“You mean wanting each other and pretending we don’t?”
Her hand tightens on my wrist as if searching for her control. “Yes.”
