Page 572 of Sinfully Savage Mafia

Seeing her again, breathing her in, holding her in my arms, hearing her voice…

No. I don’t think I can.

CHAPTER3

CHLOE

Gusts of cold air blast my skin, the tiny hairs in my nose morphing into icicles. But my insides are warm, gooey, and tingly with Bruno’s arms wrapped tight around me.

I keep my eyes on the snowy bank in front of us because I know if I look at him, it’ll shatter me. And since I’ve already been broken by him and haphazardly glued myself back together over time, I’m definitely prone to cracks. And even the intense pain in my ankle can’t battle the ache in my chest.

I let out a shuddery sigh. Damn Lily and Zeno for running off without me. They’re probably back at the lodge by now, maybe just realizing that I’m not with them because they never bothered to look back to make sure I was following them.

Then again, they could have decided to give me and Bruno a chance to talk. We are the best man and maid of honor. I’m sure they’d like us to be somewhat amicable on their big day.

I squint in the bright sunlight at the bridesmaids’ chalet in the distance. Ours is tucked against the side of the mountain which made me nervous at first, considering the peaks of snow at the top. But Lily convinced me that it wasn’t enough to bury us in an avalanche.

A few tense minutes later, we stop in front of the door.

“You have your key?” Bruno asks.

I dig it out of the pocket on the side of my leg and hand it to him. He balances me in one arm, slides the key into the lock, and twists the knob. He stomps his boots on the mat in front of the door before walking inside and I smile to myself.

I bet most guys would barrel inside with their snow-covered boots and not remember to clean them off first, especially if they were carrying a person in their arms.

He steps into the foyer and stomps on another mat before carrying me over to the couch and setting me on the plush cushions. Then he takes off his boots and coat and puts them by the door. He comes back and does the same with mine.

“Ice?” he asks.

“Freezer,” I say, pointing toward the kitchen.

He comes right back with ice wrapped in a dish towel and stops in front of me, his eyebrows furrowed.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“I can’t ice your ankle through those snow pants. I have to get them off you.” His deep-set eyes tangle with mine. “Okay?”

I nod. “I, ah, have on thermals anyway so…”

He hands me the dish towel, leans over, and loops his fingers into the waistband of my snow pants before sliding them down my legs. Slowly. Tormentingly.

He’s gentle when he pulls them off. I only wince the slightest bit.

“Sorry, I’m trying to be careful.”

“You are.” I force a smile. “I’m just being a baby.”

He slides the leg of my thermal to my knee and all I have to say is thank God I shaved this morning. My belly clenches, pulse hammering as his fingertips slide over my prickled skin. Oh God, I remember those fingers so well…

I take a deep breath, forcing my mind to focus on anything other than what he is currently doing to my body and mind. It shouldn’t be so hard considering I have a bum ankle right now. “What does it look like? Is it bad?”

“Pretty bruised already. And swollen.” He takes the ice and presses it to my skin.

I clench my teeth and fists. “Shoot, that hurts. And it’s cold.”

“The cold will help with the swelling.”

My back tenses from the pain. “This is definitely not how I saw my day going at all. All I wanted to do was drink some hot chocolate and read one of my smutty romance novels in front of the fireplace.”

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