Page 63 of Love Under Snowfall

Goddammit, Francesca.

You’re ruining me.

She shivered despite the sweat that trickled down between her shoulder blades.

“It’s complicated,” he huffed, brushing past her—trying to at least—to continue down the trail.

“So use little words, and maybe I’ll be able to keepup.” She bounded past him like a ridiculous golden retriever puppy because, surprise, surprise, it was impossible to march purposefully in knee-deep snow. Taking the lead, she stopped ahead of him again.

“It doesn’t matter. What happened happened. It’s over. Done.”

“I still don’t get it.” Impulsively she raised a hand and settled it on his chest. “Last night was incredible. And just so you know, I’m not one to stroke a man’s ego. The key is to let them go home thinking they need to work just alittlebit harder the next time—”

His deepening scowl cut off her words.

Focus, Frankie.

“My point is,” she continued, “we were amazing together, and that’s not only my self-inflicted-fall-quarter-vow-of-celibacy talking.”

“Francesca,” he said, exasperated. She was wearing him down. Just a little more. She needed to know what went wrong and why he didn’t want an encore of last night.

Why he didn’t want her.

“Look,” she pushed. “I’m not looking for anything serious, but it would be foolish to ignore the chemistry we have. Why not relinquish control and see what happens?”

He trained his especially icy eyes on her face, scanning for answers like he was some artificially intelligent robot trying to solve a riddle. Then he pinched the bridge of his nose, looked to his feet, and puffed out a ragged breath. Frankie waited for him to look back up at her, allowed him the time to organize his thoughts, to come to the same conclusion that she had. But all the heat fled her body as he leveled a frigid expression on her.

“Last night was a mistake, Francesca,” he stated coolly with his Professor Clark mask secured in place. “I take full responsibility for my actions. It shouldnot have happened and it will not happen again. Period. Out of respect I will keep our interaction to myself. I hope that you will extend me a similar courtesy and do the same.”

Chapter thirty-five

Benjamin

Benjamin longed for a fissure to crack open below his feet. Cowardly, sure, but it would be a quick escape so he could stop hurling cruel lies at Francesca. Unfortunately, he was stuck there. Forced to face this woman who he’d touched and worshiped and brought with him to the brink of bliss. They’d shared something deeply passionate last night, and he would have given his law degree to live in that rosy world of passion forever. But he knew the truth.

What he was capable of doing to her.

And so he decided to do her a favor and shield her from a potentially hazardous fate.

Notpotentially. Inevitably.

So why didn’t he feel any relief from shooting her down? Protecting her from a miserable future? Was he making a mistake? He ached to reach for her. Apologize for being so weak and beg to keep her with him. Maybe he could be careful. Intentional. Remain diligent through the nights and weeks and longer. Should he even be considering this? He began to lean forward but halted as a smile sprang to her lips but didn’t reach her eyes.

“Ok,” she said with a suit-yourself tone.

“Ok?” What was happening?

“Yes. O. K.,” Francesca said pointedly and shrugged. “It was a one-time thing, and we can both go our merry ways.”

She turned and continued the laborious trek through thesnowy terrain.

“You’re over it? Just like that?” Benjamin was taken aback by her easy acceptance. Was she really all right with things ending on this note? “Francesca—”

“You act like I haven’t had a one-night stand before. I’ve had plenty.” She paused and looked over her shoulder with casual concern. “But you might want to consider being a tad more upfront about your game plan with your next sexual partner. Chicks can get pretty pissed when they think there will be more than one round only to be left hanging with massive lady-wood the next morning.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered, frustration simmering just below the surface.

“I’m not,” she continued as if he’d been talking to her, lowering her tone to mimic his. “A quick ‘You’d better enjoy this fuck, sweetheart, cuz it’s the only one you’re gonna get’ would have been nice.”

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