Page 10 of Possessive Mountain Man

He doesn’t reply, but he scoops up a glove-full of snow and packs it together. My eyes widen and my jaw falls open when I realize what he’s doing.

Which is a second before a snowball hits me in the shoulder.

I gasp in outrage. “How dare you!”

“What?” He leans over to scoop up another ball. “I didn’t take you for a coward.”

“Oh.” My eyes narrow. “It’s on.”

With a laugh, I scoop up my own snowball and launch it at him. He steps aside as it goes flying by.

Lucky jerk.

Undeterred, I duck from his next snowball and mount my next attack.

Snowballs fly through the air, occasionally hitting their mark. We race around, scooping and throwing and dodging. Laughing until our cheeks are red and my sides hurt.

Then I do it. I land one right smack against his face. With a growl, he launches at me, wrapping his arms around me.

We fall into the snow, our chests rising up and down rapidly as we gasp for breath. His hard body presses against me, and a delicious ache settles between my thighs.

My gaze lowers to his lips, and I moisten mine instinctively. Is he going to kiss me again.

Clearing his throat, he pushes himself up and offers me a hand. “Come on. We should go back inside to warm up.”

Funny, I felt plenty warm lying in the snow with his body against mine.

Neither of us speaks on the trek back to the cabin. Once inside, we peel off our outer layers, shaking the snow from our hair.

Despite the sexual tension raging between us, our game in the snow takes a little of the edge off. We’re able to talk more comfortably. He’s no longer keeping the entire length of the cabin between us.

As night falls, the wind picks up again. With a sigh, Hayes turns to me. “Want to play a game?”

I blink. “What kind of game?”

“Never have I ever.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “We used to play that in high school—college,” I correct myself. “It’s more fun when drinks are involved.”

With a smirk, he retrieves a bottle of whiskey from a cabinet. “Will this do?”

I incline my head. “You’re on.”

He pours two fingers each into two glasses and hands me one. We sit cross-legged on the floor in front of the fire, the bottle between us.

“You go first,” he urges.

I grin. “Never have I ever… gone skydiving.”

His eyes narrow as he takes a sip. I know full well that he had paratrooper training. He opens his mouth and I raise the glass to my lips and sip.

His eyes widen. “You have?”

“On a dare.”

“What did you think of it?”

“It was terrifying. Thrilling.” A lot like the feeling of kissing him. “Your turn.”

---