He hums in affirmation, rinsing the suds from my shoulders. “Every inch.”
His hands never stray far. He’s not groping. He’s not rushing. He’s…bathing me.Like a ritual. A reset. Something ancient and religious.
And I let him.
When he’s done, when every inch of me has been touched with reverence and rinsed clean with warmth, he exhales like he’s just come back from a place deep in his soul.
Only then does he look around.
“Shit,” he mutters under his breath.
“What?” I ask, blinking through the steam.
He scratches the back of his head, a sheepish look tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I forgot to bring towels. There usually aren't any guests out here.”
I raise an eyebrow. “It’s freezing. What do you normally do?”
“I usually just walk back to the house naked,” he shrugs, like that’s the most reasonable answer known to man.
“Well, itisyour place,” I say, biting back a grin.
He reaches for the same flannel I’ve claimed and wraps it gently around me, securing it like a protective layer against the breeze. “Still,” he murmurs, “I won’t subject you to that. And this afternoon, we’ll take you into town to get you some real clothes. You will freeze to death if I let you wear the crap you brought.”
He snatches up his pants and boots, cramming them under one arm as he moves to my side, his other arm hovering behind my back like he already knows I’m one icy patch away from wiping out.
But when the cold hits us both again, any thought of decorum dies instantly.
I don’t walk.
I bolt.
However, before I can protest, he bends, hooks an arm under my legs, and lifts me clean off the ground.
“Hey—!” I yelp, grabbing onto his shoulders as the world suddenly tilts.
“I’ve got you,” he mutters, striding toward the house.
The cold air bites at everything exposed, and I burrow closer into him on instinct while he jogs up the path, boots crunching through the snow. My laughter fogs the air between us as he carries me like I weigh nothing, dodging icy patches I absolutely would’ve fallen on.
But even though it’s freezing and my nipples are at a permanent stand-still, it’s stupidly beautiful out here. And afteryears of tiny, overpriced apartments and traffic noise, I am going to say something that I don’t believe anyone from my sorority would ever believe.
I could live here.
I couldwantthis.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Eli says, panicked, slicing through my daydream.
My head snaps toward him. “What?”
“Fuck. Shit. Fucking fuck, fuck.”
“Eli!” I hiss. “You’re just stacking cuss words. I need arealanswer!”
He grips his pants tighter and holds them in front of him like a loincloth.
And that’s when I hear her voice. Warm, amused, and definitely too close for what we’renotwearing.
“Well, this is new.”
