“My first snow slash hay slash water fight was quite fun.”
His smile stretched ear to ear. “Agreed. A snowball fight might actually be boring after this.”
“I’d like to try it. And snow cones. I’ve never had one of those.”
His smile turned quizzical. “Never?”
She wrinkled her nose. “My childhood pretty much ended at nine, and I never went back after to try some of the smaller pleasures.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Someday, perhaps you could tell me more about your life with your father.”
Her fingers curled into his chest. Her people-pleasing personality urged her to please him, but talking about her fathertoomuch made her want to throw up. It was a testament to how good her therapist was that she was able to listen to her body instead of her instant desire to make someone else happy. “I can try,” was the best she could do.
“Whatever you feel comfortable with. In the meantime, next month, we could attempt a trip to Big Bear or Tahoe. Have some actual snow-related activities.”
Her heart caught, then accelerated at the thought of a romantic couple’s getaway. She didn’t know where she’d be in a month mentally, but the thought of making even a small long-term plan with Jas was comforting. “I don’t think I want to learn to ski.” Strapping sticks on her feet and flinging herself down a hill held no appeal for her.
Jas’s hand slid down her back, to her butt. He flexed his fingers. He wasn’t demanding or coarse, just there, his touch light. “Skiing wouldn’t be my priority.”
Katrina was supremely conscious of his body under hers,long and strong. “I’d like that,” she said, and rubbed her nose over his chest. He smelled vaguely of musty hay. She’d never found the scent seductive before. She probably never would, on anyone else. “Or I’d like to try.”
“If not, no big deal.”
A surge of emotion rose inside her at his compassion, and it swamped her sense of self-preservation. She lifted her head to look him in the eyes. “I like you.”
His lips curved up. “I like you too.”
She inclined her head, and their lips met.
Oh the zings! The zings were different than they’d been the day before. Sweeter, familiar, more intense. What if the zings grew exponentially every day? Would she short-circuit at some point?
The kiss was closemouthed, but that didn’t make it any less hot. Katrina didn’t know how long it lasted, but when she lifted her head, they were both panting, and her heart was pumping in glorious time to his.
Her romantic little brain ran away with the implications of how dazed his gaze was. Even when he said, so romantically, “My entire back is wet and cold.”
“I’m going to get a complex if you always complain about how uncomfortable you are when I’m on top of you,” she teased, and shifted off of him to kneel on the ground.
His perfect eyebrows met as he rose to his feet. “It’s not you.”
“I’m teasing.” She accepted his help to stand and dusted off her bottom. He recaptured her hand, holding it securely in his.
She’d never held hands with anyone. It was a singularly intimate experience. A different kind of intimacy from sex, the kind that came from showing off affection to the world.
Though there was no world here, only her and him.
“You’ll probably want a hot shower,” he said, and stroked his thumb over her palm.
Her stomach tightened. How was she not supposed to think of his long, hot body in the shower with her? Slick with soap, the steam rising off both of them.
“I’ll want one too,” he added. “But the water heater here isn’t really big enough to withstand two people showering at the same time.”
Oh. Katrina slid him a sideways glance, perfectly timed to catchhissideways glance. She cleared her throat. “Um. Well.” She gestured as they walked closer to the house. “Why don’t—what are you doing?”
He dragged her back, falling to his knees behind a hay bale and forcing her down as well. He checked his pockets and cursed. “I must have dropped my phone back in the trees. The cameras should have alerted me. Or the guards should have.”
His face had gone hard and blank, like he’d flipped a switch. Her unease quadrupled. “Alerted you to what?” she asked, automatically matching his whisper, if not his flat affect.
“Someone’s in the house.”
