6. Kayla

Chapter 6

Kayla

Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I shove Ryan hard against his chest. With his jeans still around his knees, he topples backwards and lands on his ass.

“What’s wrong?”

“Three years, Ryan! You skip two winters and not so much as a phone call?”

“Who makes phone calls?” he laughs, and I want to scream.

“A text, an email, a DM. A fucking postcard would have been nice, but nothing? Nothing is…”

Agony. It’s been agony.

“It’s insulting,” I settle on, then storm off to the bathroom. After cleaning myself up, I take a long hard look in the mirror. I don't know whether I'm mad at him or myself. I thought I was doing a stellar job of getting over him, and all it took was one second in his presence to fall right back in.

Now he’s scrambling my brain with orgasms - multiple, the bastard - and I don’t know what to think. My heart is still racing, every nerve alive and humming. If he led me to bed, I’m not sure we’d ever get out of it.

Nobody does it like Ryan Richmond, because nobody’s ever stuck around long enough to learn what I really like .

Except, that’s not entirely accurate. I don’t let anyone stick around, don’t let people in. I put someone over him once, and it was the most miserable winter and a total waste of time. After that, I kept men at arm's length, until I gave up waiting. Ryan had clearly given up on me, or so I thought.

In my bedroom, I strip out of the clothes he’s made a mess of, and curse my stupid, horny, touch-starved brain for bringing him back here. Memories of him are everywhere on this mountain, but this apartment has been a place just for me. It will be impossible to ignore thoughts of him now I’ve watched him eat me out in the exact spot where I make my morning coffee.

“Are you not happy to see me?” he smirks, leaning against my door frame, still topless and gorgeous. God he looks good with a tan. “Because you looked pretty happy coming on my tongue five minutes ago.”

His gaze heats my skin as it travels from my legs to my hips and settles there. I’d slam the door in his face, but it’s nothing he hasn’t seen before. I pull on soft sleep shorts and a worn t-shirt from a ski racing contest I volunteered at during my first season here.

“I saw your parents in the boulangerie three days ago, and they said you weren’t coming home.” He doesn’t need to know I came home and cried myself to sleep, thinking he’d forgotten all about me. My pillow is probably still stained with tears.

“I didn’t know I was coming until right before our flight. It was a totally last minute decision.”

Ryan spins me some story about him and Cameron getting drunk and booking tickets on a whim, which does nothing to reassure me he genuinely wants to be here. He didn’t come here for me. He hasn’t ached the way I’ve ached for him.

“I haven't heard from you. In years.”

“Doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about you every day.”

My head almost spins off my shoulders. I could actually throttle him. “Have you? Because that would have been nice to know.”

His face sinks, and it’s in this moment I see him understand this is no joke to me.

“But we agreed, didn’t we? Not to get involved with each other’s lives while we were apart. You do your thing, I do mine, and then it’s, you know… ‘see you next winter’ .”

That pact was the stupidest mess I’ve ever gotten myself into.

“Our agreement didn’t include disappearing off the face of the earth.”

“I didn’t disappear! I was in L.A.”

Tugging the ends of my braids free, I loosen them and brush them out with less of the delicate care I usually give my hair.

“Oh, don’t worry, I know all about your fancy Hollywood life and what you’ve been up to because I still see your parents every year. I get to sit there with a smile on my face, pretending I don’t miss you while they tell me what show you’re working on and all about your beautiful new girlfriend.”

“What girlfriend?”

“The redhead!”

He laughs and shakes his head. “She’s not my girlfriend anymore.”

“Since when? And don't you dare say you just broke up because if you make me feel like a rebound, I will kick you in the dick.”

“Since February. It was a really brief thing. She got a modelling contract in New York."

“A model?” I screech, throwing my hands in the air and shoving past him. “Well, that’s brilliant, isn’t it? Golden boy with his cool friends and his supermodel girlfriend coming back to fuck my life up.”

“We’re not even in touch,” he calls after me .

It used to be so easy when we were kids. We'd say goodbye, then live our separate lives, me in Scotland, him in London. He was just a friend I saw on holiday, and while it was a comfort knowing we'd be reunited the following winter, I never really missed him.

Obviously kissing complicated things, sex even more so, and somewhere along the line we decided this would be our own tradition. A ‘what happens in the mountains, stays in the mountains’ agreement that was clearly easier for him than it’s been for me.

“What is this all about, Kayla?” he asks, following me into the living room where I busy myself with straightening the sofa cushions and blankets. I hadn’t been expecting guests. Least of all him.

It’s been a busy week, and I’ve not kept on top of tidying. Though he’s been in my bedroom at my parents’ house plenty of times, I don’t want him judging me or the home I've built for myself.

“Oh shit, are you with someone?” he asks, and the cushion hits him square in the chest before my brain even registers I’ve chucked it.

“Do you think I’d have let you come in my mouth if I was with someone, Ryan?” I shriek, catching it when he throws it back. “Argh, you are so infuriating!”

“Have you been with anyone else?”

My jaw drops. That was not part of the deal. Our entire… whatever we are, only works on the understanding we don’t talk about whatever we get up to when we’re not in the mountains. We turn up, fuck as much as feasibly possible, and off we go. Him asking means he gives a shit, and I can’t have him dropping bombs like that when I’ve convinced myself he doesn’t.

“You’re not supposed to ask,” I say, turning away to pick up the empty cereal bowl I left on my coffee table this morning.

“Well, I’m asking. ”

“This is the first time I’ve seen you in three years, so I think it would be pretty rude of you to expect me not to sleep with anyone else.”

“That’s fair.” He tries to touch my arm when I pass him, but I duck out of reach and the spoon goes clattering across the kitchen floor. I squat to pick it up and when I look at him, all I see is heat in his eyes.

“Don’t you stand there half-naked and hot and give me that look.” I pick his t-shirt up off the kitchen floor and throw it at him. He’s not quick enough, and when it lands on his face, I pinch my lips together to hide my satisfied smile. “Put your clothes on before you talk to me in my house.”

He grabs the rest of his things and disappears to clean himself up. I pull a pan from the cupboard and click on the stovetop to warm milk. Once little bubbles appear on the surface, I add two scoops of chocolate flakes and stir them slowly with my grandma’s old wooden spoon.

Ryan has the sense to keep his mouth shut when he gets back, pulling out a stool to sit at my breakfast bar. I focus on the dull scrape of the spoon against the bottom of the pan, making sure the milk doesn’t catch. When all the chocolate has melted, I pour the rich liquid into two mugs and carry them over to where he waits, watching. My place isn’t big, and there’s no option but to hop up onto the other stool.

“So you missed me?” he says.

“Of course I missed you, but I’m still mad as hell.”

“I like you mad.” He ducks his head to nip at my jaw. “Makes me want to put you over my knee.”

My core clenches at the thought. He’s very good at spanking, always takes his time to really draw it out and tease me until I’m a begging mess. Whenever I’ve asked someone else to do it, it hasn’t been nearly as good .

“Did you miss me?” I ask him and immediately wish I hadn’t. I shouldn’t care, and this is only going to end badly.

“Are you kidding me? Winters are nothing without you. Winters aren’t even winter in California.”

“How long are you here for?”

“We fly home January 3rd.”

Almost two weeks. Two weeks I’ve crammed with ski tour bookings, so I wouldn’t have to spend my time pining over him.

“I have a lot of work on,” I tell him.

“So squeeze me in whenever you can.”

I ignore him and lose myself in my hot chocolate instead. There’ll be pockets of time, but if he wants them, he’ll have to grovel.

“Come on, you know I’ll make it so good for you,” he says, reading my mind. “We have a lot of time to make up for, and I’ll do whatever shit you’ve been dreaming up, nasty girl.”

I nearly choke on my drink and slam my mug down on the counter. “Don’t shame me!”

“Hey, hey,” he says, twisting me to lift my legs into his lap. I almost topple backwards and grab his arm to steady myself. “I would never, ever shame you. You know I think you’re the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. It’s an honour to fuck you.”

“Damn right it is. Now get out of here before I change my mind.”

I climb down and snatch up our mugs, not caring he’s only had half of his hot chocolate. He watches me tip both down the sink and looks at me like I’m insane, but I hold my ground and point to the door.

“Out.”

“I can’t stay over?”

“Absolutely not. That was the deal. No sleepovers, no one gets caught. ”

“But I've stayed over before? And there’s nobody here.” He has a point, but everything is different now. The last time he stayed over, he walked out of my life.

I can’t get it straight in my head, and I need some time to think without him crowding my home and my thoughts.

He closes the space between us with caution, carefully reaching for my hands. The gentle touch of him slipping his fingers between mine.

“Kayla, everyone knows about us. They have for years.”

“It’s different now. I live here full time, I work here, I have a life. Please allow me the dignity of not looking like I fell straight back in with you because you deigned to grace us with your presence this Christmas.”

With all my might, I shove him down the hallway to my front door, grab his jacket from the hook, and press it into his hands.

“Besides, I have a touring gig at ten and if you stay over, I know you’ll keep me up all night.”

“But what about the pact? We agreed—” I pinch his lips between my thumb and forefinger before he can say another word.

“I know what we agreed, but you’re fucking with my head, and you need to go.” I can feel his tongue trying to push out and lick me and I want to laugh so hard, the way only this particular idiot ever makes me laugh.

With my other hand, I open the door and barge him over the threshold. He shoves back, hooking one ankle around my leg and trying to pull him with me. His easy laugh tumbles out of him, and I’ve missed it so much I almost stop. Flirting with him is always so playful and fun.

God, it would be so easy to switch tactics and push him in the other direction. A little naked wrestling in my bedroom wouldn’t be a bad way to burn off this nervous energy that is one hundred percent his fault.

He hip-checks me, his hands trying to loosen my grip on his waist, but I’ll never let him win this one. Thanks to my days spent cruising the mountain, I’m in the best physical shape of my life. He might be taller and wider than me, but California and a desk job have made him soft.

I extend my leg behind me to kick his boots, one, then the other, through the door and down the hallway. One teeters on the lip of the stairs then topples over the edge, drawing his attention long enough for me to slam the door behind him.

Breathless, I rest my back against it, wondering what the fuck I’m playing at. I’ve never wanted anything more than I want him, and I’m thrilled he’s here. So why am I sending him away?

“I’m coming to see you before you head up the mountain,” he yells from the other side of the door.

“Don’t promise me shit,” I yell back.

“I’ll be there, Bunny. I swear.”