“Deadly.”
He scrubs a hand over his face. “You are a menace.”
“Is that a yes?”
“You’re going to do it even if I say no, aren’t you?”
I lift a shoulder. “Possibly.”
Nate sighs. “Fine,” he mutters. “But ground rules.”
“You’re really going to make rules for naked snow time?”
“Fuckin’ A I am. One, we do this fast. Two, we have warm towels ready inside. Three, hot shower immediately after. Four, if I see you turning blue, experiment over.”
“Deal,” I say, grinning so hard my face hurts.
We limp back up to the porch, grab towels and drape them on the radiator just inside the door, propped open so we can tumble in fast. The air knifes at my cheeks.
“You first,” he says, folding his arms. “You’re the lunatic who suggested this.”
I kick off my boots, hopping from foot to foot. Then, heart pounding, I strip off my coat, flannel, thermal, leggings, and underwear, until the cold hits my bare skin like a slap.
“Holy—” I suck in a gasp, everything goose pimpling at once. “OK. Wow. That’s -”
Nate swears softly, eyes wide, and for a second I forget to be cold.
“Jesus, Ally.” His gaze sweeps me, hungry and incredulous, lingering on my diamond hard nipples. “You’re… incredible.”
“Less staring, more stripping,” I manage through chattering teeth. “We’re on a timer.”
He groans and undresses quickly, driven by self-preservation and, apparently, hormones. Shirt off, sweats down, briefs gone, until he’s as naked and goosebumps as I am, every hard line and warm muscle exposed to the merciless, glorious air. Even the cold doesn’t prevent the twitch of his cock in my direction.
The cold steals my breath. So does he.
We look at each other once, eyes wide, and then we both start laughing, half hysteria, half joy.
“This is insane,” he says.
“Three,” I say, backing toward the snow. “Two. One—”
We fling ourselves backward like kids, bodies hitting the powder with a whoomp that knocks the air out of my lungs. It’s so cold it burns, every nerve singing with shock.
“Move your arms!” I gasp. “Angel, angel…”
We scrape out wobbly wings, legs kicking, snow flying. I can’t stop laughing, laughter scraped raw by the air, turning to shrieks as the cold reaches every possible part of me.
“OK, abort mission!” Nate yells, teeth chattering. “I can’t feel my soul!”
We scramble up, slipping, grabbing at each other, and sprint as fast as we can back to the porch, into the cabin, slamming the door behind us. Stumbling, laughing breathlessly and swearing,snow melting in streaks down our skin, we are both damp and shivering and ridiculously alive.
“Shower,” Nate pants. “Nownownow.”
“Can’t argue,” I say, grabbing the towels, tossing one at him and wrapping the other around my shoulders. “Come on.”
We half-run, half-hop to the bathroom, not bothering with modesty now. Not after we just made anatomically detailed snow angels together.
He twists the hot tap full blast, steam billowing fast. Our shoulders bump, feet slipping on the tiles, still laughing as water needles our frozen skin.
