Page 56 of Mistletoe and Mayday
My breathing slowly returns to normal as I hold her against my chest, her hair tickling my chin. She fits perfectly in my arms, all soft curves and warm skin. The fire crackles, casting dancing shadows across her face.
“Sebastian?” Her voice is quiet, thoughtful.
“Hmm?” I trace patterns on her shoulder, memorizing the feel of her skin.
“When we said ‘once’...” She props herself up on an elbow,looking at me with those impossibly bright eyes. “Did you mean just one time, or one night?”
A chuckle escapes me before I can stop it. “I think we meant night.”
“Yes.” She nods, but there’s a glint in her eye that makes my pulse quicken. “I think so, too.”
She pauses, studying my face with that direct gaze that always sees too much. Then her lips curve into a wicked smile. “Or maybe we meant once for every position? Because, God, I need more of that.”
Seventeen
BAILEY
Adrop hits my nose, startling me awake. I blink, taking in the cabin’s dim morning light. Sebastian’s already up, because of course he is. He’s wearing just his sweatpants, moving around the cabin like some Greek statue come to life, all smooth muscle and perfect lines. The memory of those muscles under my hands last night makes my face burn.
Three times. We did it three times, and each time was...perfect. The way he touched me, like I was precious. The way he listened to my body, found every spot that made me gasp. The way he held me after, not minding my endless sleepy rambling about constellations and snow globes.
I stretch, sore and more relaxed than I’ve felt in...maybe ever. Last night was everything. He was everything. And that’s terrifying. Because I want more. So much more. I want mornings and evenings and all the moments in between. I want his laugh and his eye rolls and his secret kindness.
But I need to be careful. We agreed. One night. Once. He just had his heart broken. Found his girlfriend cheating. Came here to propose, for God’s sake. I’m just...convenient. A warm body in a cold place. A distraction from his pain. The “just once” we both agreed to in the dark. I need to remember that.
Another drip of water hits my nose. Sebastian’s looking up at the ceiling, CEO mode activated.
“There’s a hole in the roof,” he says, like he’s discussing quarterly earnings. “If we don’t fix it fast, we’ll lose our shelter.”
I follow his gaze to where the melting snow seeps through. “Please tell me you also took roof repair classes during your wilderness survival training.” My eyes drift down his bare chest, tracing the path my tongue took last night.Focus, Bailey. Eyes up.
“Actually...” He has the audacity to look smug.
“No, you didn’t.” I try to stand, wincing at my stiff muscles, which are sore for reasons that have nothing to do with the crash and everything to do with how thoroughly he explored every inch of me.
He’s there instantly, strong hands steadying me. His touch lingers, thumb brushing over my hip where last night he gripped so hard I might have bruises.
“I didn’t. But we still need to reinforce the roof,” he says, his eyes on my lips. I pretend not to notice, just like I pretend not to notice how his breath catches when I lean against him for support. Just like I pretend last night didn’t change everything.
I try not to stare as Sebastian pulls his sweater back on. Was he always this hot? How did I miss this before?
I didn’t.
“There’s spare lumber in the storage shed,” he says, alreadyheading for the door. I follow him out, definitely not watching the way his shoulders move under his shirt. The cold hits like a slap, but the sun’s bright, making the snow sparkle.
Wait.
The sun’s visible. The clouds that have imprisoned us for days are breaking apart, revealing patches of blue. Rescue weather. Going-home weather. Back-to-real-life weather.
My stomach twists into a complicated knot.
He emerges from the shed carrying wooden beams like they weigh nothing. Show off. But then he climbs the rickety ladder to the roof, and my mouth goes dry. The muscles in his arms flex as he pulls himself up. God, those are the same arms that pinned my wrists above my head last night.
“Be careful!”
He pauses, looking down at me with that half-smile that makes my stomach flip. “Worried about me, Monroe?”
“Worried about me having to haul your broken body through three feet of snow when you fall,” I shoot back, but my voice betrays me with a slight crack.
