Page 47 of Acting Merry
I keep losing sight of it through the fog of my feelings, and Cole can sense it.
Enough being in my head. Cole’s pulled more than his weight keeping things light and spontaneous. It’s my turn.
I wrap my towel around my waist, folding over the top to keep it in place, then snatch Cole’s before he can.
His hand pauses in midair, and he looks at me like maybe taking his towel was an accident.
Maybe it was, since I’m left watching the warm water from the hot tub snake down his neck, chest, and torso, his upper body literally steaming.
Welp, in for a penny, in for a pound.
I put the towel over my shoulders and smile. “Whaddya know? Chivalry isn’t dead.”
His surprise shifts, his mouth lifting at one edge. “Is that right?” He takes a few slow steps toward me.
I see chase in his eyes, and it gets my heart pumping in a wild, new way. A way that makes me want to run. To be chased.
I spin on my heel and take off, salt chunks from the deck sticking to the soles of my bare feet as I hurry to the stairs. I don’t even consider heading inside. Instead, I poke foot-shaped holes into the snow as I grip the towel around my shoulders for dear life with one hand, the towel at my waist with the other. The crunch of Cole’s footstepspunctuates my own as I feel the sting of glacial air hit my thighs, telling me the towel at my waist is no longer secure. It flutters behind me like a flag as I try in vain to grasp the fabric and cover my frostbitten leg.
Cole’s grip finds the towel, bringing me to a jolting stop. If I was in my right mind, I’d let go of it, but I’m in a panicked state, a giant grin on my face, the cold enhancing the energy in every muscle.
Next thing I know, I’m being spun around, then pulled flush against Cole.
He smiles just as widely as me, and our hearts thud against our chests like two rabid wolves on either side of a fence. My lungs heave for air, but all they get is ice crystals.
“What happened to chivalry?” I say breathlessly.
“Alive and well,” he replies, breathless. “I’m keeping you warm.”
That he is. Every part of me that isn’t touching him aches with cold, and my body pulses with the need for more of the warmth his body promises.
His breath makes a warm cloud in front of his mouth, and my cold lips urge me to let them closer to it, closer to the source. As if I needed one more thing to persuade me to kiss him again.
But I don’t want another fake kiss. I can’tsurviveanother one.
“Fine,” I say. “Keep the towel.”
His brows lift. “Really?”
I nod.
“This towel?” The press of the fabric against my back lets up, and I’m suddenly exposed.
I take a step back, willing myself not to shiver. Maybe I’m past that point now.
“And what if I want that one too?” He nods at the one around my shoulders.
There it is again—the chase in his blue eyes.
This time, I run because I need to. I need to put distance between me and the ever-growing desire for Cole.
I haven’t taken more than two steps when his arm wraps around my waist.
My feet slide against the snow as I try to escape, and then we’re falling.
A thousand microscopic icicles pierce the bare skin of my legs as we roll. I end on my back, eyes clenched tightly shut. When I open them, Cole’s face hovers over me.
“You okay?” he asks.
