Chapter 11

[Brock]

Fuck, she is sexy. She not only let me just kiss her, she gave me that sweet orgasm around midnight and then continued the kissing game when Chicago struck twelve. By then we were both worn out. I’d made up for years’ worth of useless kisses in a matter of hours, but I wanted more time with Pear.

My dick had never had such a workout, but I didn’t want to rush like I’d said. I only wanted to savor every second our mouths connected. Of course, there was nibbling at her neck and feasting on her skin, but my hands didn’t wander much other than outlining her serious curves and teasing the supple underside of her breasts.

There was no denying I wanted more of her, but I wanted to be given the gift, not just take from her.

When we finally agreed to call it a night, I escorted her to her room and went to mine but I didn’t last more than three minutes before I was popping out of bed and knocking on her door.

Her tired groan was my permission to enter. “No more,” she muttered into her pillow, hugging it tight beneath her head. I’d asked a lot of her today, but I still wanted to be close to her.

“Can I sleep with you?” I sounded like a child who’d had a bad dream. In many ways, I was that child deep down inside. A kid who’d given up his youth to help his family. A man who worked hard to provide for his family. A husband who lost his wife and struggled to keep up with his children. A firefighter who has possibly seen more than his share of trauma, and known death.

Without rolling from her side, Pear reached behind her and whipped the layers of blankets back to expose the sheet.

Shoving down my joggers, I slipped in behind her in only my boxer briefs and tugged her to me. The move was dangerous. She wasn’t sleeping in anything more than tiny shorts, exposing her majestic thighs, while something skimpy covered her up top, offering more of her soft arms.

Still, I wrapped an arm over her middle, held her tight to my chest, and fell asleep within seconds.

Happy New Year indeed.

+ + +

When I wake alone, I’m not surprised, but easily hear Pear rustling around in the kitchen.

Sliding from her bed, I notice the wooden snowflake I made her on the nightstand. Smiling to myself, I reach for my sweats and slip into them, shivering from the temperature shift of her warm bed to the cold room. I return to my room for a shirt then wander into the kitchen.

“Good morning,” I say, a little too cheerful, while hesitant. I don’t want any regrets about yesterday.

“Happy New Year,” She quickly glances at me without pausing from what she’s hastily cooking on the stovetop. Corned beef hash sizzles. Eggs fry.

Wrapping my arms around her middle, I tug her back to my chest. She stiffens a second, but I hold on until she settles against me.

I kiss the side of her neck. “You okay today?”

“Yeah,” she whispers, melting even more into me.

“You left the bed.” I hum. The vanilla scent of her skin is intoxicating.

“We need to get going.”

“Oh yeah?” I pull back and slip to her side, leaning my hip into the countertop. “What’s today’s plan?”

I should have asked for today to be my cheat day, but I’d been too excited yesterday morning when she suggested I take out the snowmobile. I haven’t been snowmobiling in forever and sledding through the forest, a girl at my back, zipping along the trails, was amazing. It’s been too long since I’ve been in the woods, and I’d forgotten how peaceful it can be. Living in Chicago, we have forest preserves, designated acres of woods with walking trails, but the space is not the same as the naked forest.

Today, however, is football day, although the championship of college bowl games doesn’t take place for another week.

“Polar Plunge. We need to be there by ten.”

“The what-what?” I blink. We have the tradition in Chicago, but I still don’t think I’ve heard her correctly.

“Polar Plunge. It’s a tradition. A cleansing of sorts. You rush into Lake Michigan, let the cold water cover you.” She waves dramatically down her body. “The lake washes all the toxic negativity of last year out to sea and refreshes you for a new year.”

“Excuse me?” This sounds like a load of modernistic horse crap.

“The Plunge is also a fundraiser for Special Olympics.”

This is something I know, as the fire department is often on hand for the idiots running into the frigid lake in sub-zero temperatures. Even if it is a fundraiser, some people are just stupid about plunging. A minute tops is the recommendation. Fifteen minutes is the maximum before the body will shut down. Some people have to push the limits, sending their bodies into shock or hypothermia.

Personally, I don’t want to dip my big toe into freezing lake water especially when the air temp outside is well below thirty-two degrees Fahrenheit. But here’s what happens when you kiss an orgasm out of a girl, and she looks at you with sky blue eyes and kiss-swollen lips. You find yourself saying: “What should I wear?”

I don’t have a bathing suit with me because there was no promise of pool-time at Cap’s retreat. I don’t even know if the camp has a pool and never considered we’d be dipping into a lake.

The smile that brightens Pear’s face adds to my torture. “Your boxer briefs are fine.”

No way . Everyone’s going to see I have a boner for this woman, not to mention they will then witness my balls shriveling into frozen nuggets thanks to the cold lake.

But an hour later, I’m not the only guy making a fool of himself for someone else, or because of generosity and all that. Pear has already paid the online registration fee, making an additional charitable donation, and she refuses to tell me what she’d spent so I can reimburse her.

People stand around hopping from foot to foot, rubbing hands together and stroking up their arms to keep warm as we await a countdown.

There are two countdowns, actually. One for removing your clothes down to whatever you plan to submerge in and another count for the race to the lake.

When the clock starts ticking, I’m surprised how quickly people remove their winter jackets and I’m equally stunned by what they consider appropriate to wear into the lake. Plungers are in a variety of bikinis and speedos; some in board shorts and one-piece suits, while others are heading for the lake in wet suits and snorkeling gear like they’ll be hanging out for a while. Still others have innertubes around their waists. One guy is wearing a clown outfit.

So I finally understand when Pear repeatedly reassured me no one would be looking at me in my black boxer briefs.

“Other than to maybe check out what you’re packing,” she’d teased when we pulled up and parked in the public lot, which was overflowing with other fools like us.

As for Pear, she’s in a bright red one-piece suit, like a lifeguard might wear and my yank -bank is full to overflowing of fantasies of what I want to do to her.

As the countdown starts for the race to the water, Pear takes my hand, squeezing it tight, and I glance down at our fingers locked together. Gazing back up at her, her eyes gleam and she gives me a teasing grimace.

Fuck, do I like this woman .

When the pop of a confetti gun goes off, Pear starts shrieking and runs toward the lake, tugging at my hand.

“Fuck,” I holler, as others cry out as well at the first connection with the icy lake. The lake is actually warmer than the air, but it makes no difference. Forty-degrees or four, the fresh water is fucking freezing .

Still, I follow Pear thigh deep. We’ve been warned not to submerge our heads. Pear drops my hand, sucks in a large breath and holds, grits her teeth, and drops below the surface up to her shoulders. Like a graceful swan taking off from the water, she shoots upright and lets out a delighted scream before scrubbing at her face. Her pale skin pebbles. That red one-piece is seersuckers to her body, outlining the contours of her curves. Her nipples are erect and poking at the tight material like they could cut through the fabric. She’s as luscious as a ripe pear, and I want to take a huge bite of her.

Instead, I follow suit and drop below the surface to my shoulders before slowly standing to my full height again. Pear is shivering, clutching her arms in front of her chest, and I reach for her wrists and tug her to me. She stumbles in the cold water but when my mouth crashes against hers, I suddenly don’t feel the chill. The heat of her mouth is one thing, but Pear kisses me like she wants to devour me. Like she wants to pull me into her soul and keep me there.

Her eagerness is as refreshing as this frigid bath, cleansing me of the negativity of past relationships and opening my lungs to fresh air. I feel like I can breathe for the first time in a long while. Maybe my heart is open as well, to the potential of a new status.

Taken.

By this pear of a woman, trembling in the cold lake while clinging to me with her warm mouth and hot-as-sin body.

“Done?” I ask, pulling back and tipping my head to hers. Her lips are red, her eyes bright blue.

She nods, tucking her arms tighter to her chest, to cover her breasts and the hard nips protruding against her suit. I duck and clasp her around the back of her legs, hitching her up and over my shoulder in a fireman’s hold.

Pear squeals again, slapping my ass once before tucking her thumbs into the waistband of my boxer briefs as a means to hold onto something.

“Careful there. Don’t want everyone to see the good side of me.”

“And your backside is the good side?” she grunts as I carry her over my shoulder .

“Had enough people tell me to kiss their ass.”

“That would mean their ass was good, not yours.” Pear huffs.

“Semantics. My ass. Their ass.” I turn my head and nip at her leg, just below her ass.

Her retaliation is pinching mine.

I set Pear down on a blanket covering the cool sand. We both do an awkward dance of rubbing off the water with towels and trying to redress with shaky limbs. The recommendation is to immediately change out of the wet clothing and the public bathroom is open for such a thing. There is a celebration for all who took the plunge, but Pear suggests we return to my truck.

“I just wanted to do the Plunge. Support Special Olympics.” She shrugs, glancing down at her lap once we are inside the cab. A towel covers her lower body. She’s wearing her winter jacket zipped up to her neck and her boots, minus pants. The seat warmers are on; the heat is set to full blast.

“I wanted to symbolically wash away any lingering negative aura.”

I’m curious what toxins she feels still waffle around her. “Like what?”

Lifting her head, she absentmindedly stares out the windshield at the beach dotted with people in various states of changing their clothes and toasting to one another.

“Reggie, mainly. The financial mess. I guess I just saw this moment as closure.” She finally looks at me. “Or a baptism.”

“That’s rather deep,” I tease but instantly regret the joke. Swallowing hard, I add, “I get it, though. That did feel good.” I nod toward the lake. “I feel different.”

However, a seven-minute dip in the lake isn’t the only thing that’s made a change. It’s been seven days with this woman. One full week has made me feel better about myself.

She didn’t judge me when I worked on the dressers but encouraged me to fix them. Hell, she even had me building owl boxes, which was a good start to constructing furniture. And she appreciated the wooden snowflake I made her .

She didn’t scold me for making a mess when I canned pears, but simply helped me clean up, like she helped me with the fence posts, at first.

She let me have my fun with the snowmobile, going along for the ride even when she was nervous, and she wasn’t upset when I couldn’t complete a project, like sanding the runners on that old sleigh.

She’d been easy going at every turn and obstacle, and then good-natured and open-minded on the straight run, like kissing her all afternoon and night yesterday.

Like skiing down a black diamond, there’d been a risk, a vulnerability, but the rush had been worth every second our mouths connected.

When Pear remains silent, I reverse the truck out of the parking lot.

She shivers beside me, and she should have taken off her wet suit instead of wrapping up in a towel and tugging on her winter coat. With her feet in her boots and her bare legs trembling, she looks ridiculous but adorable.

Once we return to the house, she enters the front door but stops to open a closet just inside the small entryway. I hear the distinct flip of a switch.

“Shower.” I’m not taking no for an answer. She needs to get out of that suit and into warm clothes but first she needs to heat up her entire body.

“I have a better idea.” Turning toward me, she drops her winter coat and the wet towel at her waist. “Let’s hot tub.”

+ + +

I don’t know how I missed the tub other than it is tucked against the house in a corner and not easily seen from the back window which was shielded by the Christmas tree until only a day ago. Yesterday, we’d been busy during the wintery storm and before that I hadn’t had any need to circle around to the back of the house. The entire orchard was their backyard .

Shoved up against the house with a privacy screen on one side, the hot tub is bubbling and steaming in the cold January First air when Pear and I gingerly step into the liquid heaven and lower to our shoulders. She brought fresh towels outside with us, along with two lightweight blankets for added warmth once we are done.

For now, I only want to concentrate on the bubbles boiling around me and the jet stream pulsing against my lower back.

I sigh, closing my eyes and tipping back my head on the edge of the tub. “How did I not know about this?”

Pear laughs, but I don’t open my eyes, too entranced by how amazing the water feels.

“Dad added it a few years back. I imagine he likes to come out here at night and watch the stars light the sky.”

My eyes open. Another gloomy sky hangs overhead this morning and yet a day has never looked so bright, so promising. My gaze falls to Pear. She’s my promise.

We smile at one another, keeping silent with our thoughts, and relishing in the relaxation of the tub, but as I naturally run hot, it doesn’t take long before the bubbling pool is too much for me.

I slip up to the edge of the tub, dangling my feet in the water.

“Hot?” Pear questions.

The corner of my mouth curls upward as she knows the answer.

“Yes, you are.” Her eyes trail down my body and I laugh. Her gaze certainly makes a man feel wanted.

While we haven’t seen one another naked, Pear in that suit has left little to the imagination.

Her gaze stalls on my abs. A trail of hair runs below my belly button and vanishes into my boxer briefs. I’m not into making it all disappear down there but I do keep it well-groomed.

Pear crosses the small pool in one easy stroke before popping up between my spread knees. I lean back on my arms and watch as her hands cover my thighs, spreading my legs wider apart.

“It’s so unfair,” she whispers appreciatively, swiping one finger down my midsection, starting at my chest and bumping down my belly like a skier on moguls. When she reaches my waistband, she teasingly drags her fingertip back and forth against the thick band. “I was selfish last night.”

“Yeah, you were,” I tease, causing her head to shoot upright. “And I want you to be selfish with me again.”

Her fingers wrap around the waist of my underwear, and she tugs. Instantly, I catch her wrist with one of my hands.

“What are you doing?” My voice is rough, my mouth suddenly dry.

“Being selfish,” she hums as her gaze lowers to the stiffness growing in my boxer briefs.

“How is that being selfish?”

“I want to taste you.”

Fuuuck! “I—” Admitting that’s it has been a while since someone went down on me would be embarrassing. I just haven’t had the same desire I once had to meet a random woman in a bar and hook up for one night only. The guys at the firehouse would crudely joke lack of sex has been my problem lately. They have no idea how close they are to the truth.

“I’m clean,” I tell her, wanting her to know to some extent my sexual history. “Went to the doctor in November. Go every year around my birthday.” And it’s been eight months since I’ve had sex.

“I don’t think I’ll last very long,” I add.

She’s looking up at me with wide eyes and pouty lips. She isn’t even intentionally playing sex kitten and that makes me want to purr.

Releasing her wrist, I lean back again and hitch up my hips so she can lower my boxer briefs to my ankles before she tosses them behind her, letting them float away in the tub. The cool edge of the tub is a shock at first but when she tenderly kisses my tip, all thoughts of the temperature are gone. My focus is solely on the woman between my knees, looking up at me with hesitant eyes while pressing her lips to my lower head.

“Snowflake,” I groan. I’m as stiff as an icicle but as hot as a flame when she wraps her hand around my dick and tugs upward while dropping her mouth around the head .

“You’re so big.”

Words every man wants to hear.

“Jesus.” Mary and Joseph, and all the holy saints . My eyes roll back, and my hips jolt as Pear smooths her mouth down my length, slowly drawing me to the back of her throat.

“Oh baby,” I whimper like a lost child. I lift a hand and stroke over her head, combing my fingers through her damp hair.

Pear drags back up my shaft, swirls her tongue around the crown, and then opens wide and takes me in again.

“Ffff—” I can’t even form a complete word as she hollows her cheeks and slips up and down, gliding me in and out of her wet mouth. Her hand pumps the base, working what she can’t take deep between her sexy lips. And I’m a mess when she cups my balls with her other palm.

My hips jut upward, and Pear chokes. “Sorry. Sorry . But please don’t stop.”

She shakes her head while keeping her concentration on the task in her hand, and in her mouth.

I’m totally going to blow too quick because she’s too good. Her mouth is too warm. Her hand the right pressure. Her tongue doing that thing and—

“Paradise.” Cupping her cheeks and attempting to tug her free is the only warning I can give her, but she clamps down harder, sucking stronger, and I go off like the fireworks last night celebrating a new year. Little stars dance before my eyes, as I pet her hair, and she swallows down the raining explosion before dragging up my length and pressing a final kiss to the tip.

Her head slowly lifts. Her lips still cherry-red but damp. Her eyes are bright and wide when she says, “You called me Paradise.”

“Because you are fucking heaven, baby.”