Page 25 of The Christmas Playbook
Behind us, a new wave of skiers and snowboarders comes down the mountain. Their shouts float over us, and Mira’s muscles clamp around my fingers.
“A little exhibitionist, hmm?” I lean down before she can answer, pressing my lips to hers. I increase my hand movement, my brain warring between leaving her hanging until later and wanting to feel her orgasm right this minute.
Her grip on my arm tenses. I keep the pressure up while my lips drift against hers. Her face is cold, but her mouth opens up for me. And when she sucks my tongue into her mouth, my dick pulses.
Fucking hell, she’s not even touching me, andI’mready to burst.
I shift my weight, seeking relief. When her palm comes down over my groin, I pause.
Hold it together.
We’re in public.
And yet, thinking of my grandma or something embarrassing that happened when I was a kid doesn’t hold a candle to how Mira occupies my mind. And my hand. We probably appearobscene, and maybe I have an exhibitionist kink, too, because only a few over-the-pants strokes of her hand has me coming in my pants.
I kiss her harder, the pleasure rushing from my balls, tingling up my spine. Hopefully she didn’t realize…Must distract. I increase pressure, tempo, and her hand falls away from my pants as she comes.
I swallow her cries, and only when she goes limp do I ease back.
My gaze drops to my lap, and thankfuckI’m wearing black snow pants, plus athletic shorts, plus my briefs. The layers will hopefully hold my cover until I can get back to the cabin and change.
“Good girl,” I say, just to see if it’ll piss her off.
Her face flushes, and she hurriedly pulls her goggles back down.
I laugh and shake my head then push myself to my feet. I hold out my hands, which Mira takes after a split second of hesitation. She steps away from me and straightens her jacket and pants and finds where her board ended up.
I lower my goggles and pick up my forgotten gloves, sparing a moment to lick my fingers before sliding them back into the warmth.
Not therightwarmth, but it’ll do.
“Let’s get down this mountain.” I smirk. “And we’ll see if you continue humping me.”
“There you are!” Briar’s voice rings out, stopping me in my tracks.
Oops.
I pivot, my arms laden with snowboarding gear. Thorne and Briar make their way up toward my cabin. They’re wearing matching knit hats with ridiculous, oversized pom-poms on top. Thorne’s is mainly red with threads of green, while Briar’s is the opposite.
God, Mira better not make me wear something like that.
“You two are ridiculous.”
Briar scowls at me. She’s been happier with Thorne—versus the prickly version of herself sheusedto be—but she still knows how to send a classic withering look.
“You’ve been MIA,” Thorne says. He hops up the porch steps and gestures for my key.
I freeze.
“What?”
“It’s a mess in there,” I blurt out. I set my stuff down on the porch. “You guys hungry?”
“You’re not even going to put your gear inside?” Thorne narrows his eyes. “What on earth is wrong with you?”
Oh, just the fact that there’s an extra suitcase andgirl shitspread across the cabin. We’ve been here one night—one night—and it’s like a bomb went off. I literally saw her unpack her stuff into the dresser, but it doesn’t matter. Overnight, someone must’ve come to terrorize us by sprinkling her items around every surface.
Something tells me it’s only going to get worse.
