7. Ethan

Chapter 7

Ethan

Being in the snow is not fun. But it’s also a lot less annoying in the company of Jake. He hasn’t shut up since we left the hotel, telling me about the area and what kind of things one can do.

If I’m being honest, I’m only half-listening. The impulsive kiss in his room has fried my brain. Whether it’s in a good or a bad way, I’m yet to decide.

I suppress a tingling shiver as my body remembers how it felt. I have never been kissed like that. With so much intensity and want behind it. I could experience how desperate Jake was to kiss me, his tongue hot and nimble and his hands greedy to touch me. I swallow hard, smiling as he points at a bronze statue dedicated to a beaver colony that lives nearby. I wish he’d touched more than my face, that he’d slipped a hand under my shirt. Or inside my pants.

My cock twitches in interest. I stifle down a surge of arousal. Yeah, I bet those big, callused hands would feel amazing stroking me. Slowly at first, then faster and rougher until I’m a rambling mess at Jake’s mercy.

“What’d you say?”

I stop abruptly, almost crashing into him. “Huh?”

He gives me an over the shoulder look and indicates the herbs and spices store across the street. “I need to grab a few things from there for the restaurant. Do you want to tag along or wait for me at the café? They have killer hot chocolate.”

Maybe it’s a good idea to put some distance between us so I can calm down. “I’ll wait at the café.”

“Okay, great.” He holds the door to the cozy shop open, gesturing me inside. Warmth and the smell of coffee and cakes engulf me, solidifying how right the choice to wait for him here is. “I won’t be long.”

“You want anything?” I halt him as he turns around.

He hums. “Sure. I’ll have the cinnamon mocha. Medium. And I recommend you try their berry crumble. I think you’ll like it.”

I slink inside the quaint café as Jake jogs across the street to complete his errand. Hardwood comprises the interior, with thick rugs scattered across the floor and landscape paintings hanging on the walls. A glass vitrine with cakes and sandwiches sits to the left of the small counter, where a woman in her sixties smiles at me.

“Hi. You have a lovely place,” I say, smiling back. The smell of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods hijacks my senses.

“Oh, thank you so much, dear!” she replies, preening a little. “What would you like me to get you?”

As recommended, I get the hot chocolate and the berry pie as well as a mocha for Jake. True to his word, he’s back shortly after the order is brought over to the table I claimed in the alcove by the window. His cheeks are rosy when he sits down and that somehow makes him even more handsome, bringing back the image of his flushed expression after our amazing kiss.

“Did they have the cardamon?” I ask, eyeing the bag he places on the backrest of his chair.

He looks at me quizzically as if I have spoken in a foreign language. Then he grins in a self-satisfied way. “Guess you were listening then. Yeah, I got the last two. They were due a restock this week, but with the roadblocks…”

A frisson of annoyance passes through me as I am reminded of my very unfortunate situation, but it goes away so quickly when Jake shoots me an unintentionally sexy smile that I am not sure if I imagined it or not. I guess being forced to take time off is not so bad when you find something to keep your mind off it.

I eat a bit from my crumble to distract myself from the inappropriate thought that invade me. It’s delicious.

“How is it?” Jake asks, sipping from his beverage with a knowing smile.

“Oh, I don’t know, it’s hard to say,” I shoot back, doing my best impression of a food critic. “You want a bite?”

He purses his lips, eyeing my plate. “Sure.”

I scoop crust and berry goodness and lean forward so I can reach his mouth. He wraps fingers around mine and holds the fork still as he brings his lips to it. His eyes don’t stray from my face, intense and tempting. It’s unnerving. My stomach does a flip, twisting and squeezing as he eats the crumble and then licks the bit of sauce that got on one of my fingers.

“It’s very tasty,” he says, his voice so low it goes straight to my cock. “But… it has nothing on you.”

It takes my brain a few seconds to realize what he’s saying. Heat licks the peaks of my spine, spreading through me like a forest fire I can’t stop. My cheeks feel hot too, my chest not far behind. I am sure I am flushing, but there is little I can do. My pale complexion makes it very hard to hide when I am flustered.

“Are you hitting on me?” I ask when the intensity of his single-minded focus on me gets a little too much.

He considers that for a moment, his lips curving into a one-sided wolfish smile which tells me he’s about to brush this off in a joking manner. “I am. Is that a problem?”

My heart skips a beat at his directness. I stave off an equally sly smile as I ride out a series of electrifying thrills. Should it be a problem? I’m not really sure. My encounters with interested parties don’t usually go this way. We chat on some app, then meet up for a quick fuck and go our separate ways. Foreplay like this is never in the picture.

That being said, I can’t deny that I like it. Jake is such an interesting person, so unpredictable. He keeps surprising me at every turn and that only makes me want to unravel him more. To get to know him. I lick my lips, loving the way his attention wavers from my eyes to my mouth. He’s also an amazing kisser. I can’t stop thinking about it. I tried, but it’s impossible. I want to do it again.

“Well?” he prompts when I don’t reply, raising one eyebrow as his lips purse slightly.

I hum and take a sip from my hot chocolate. It’s rich and intense, just like the taste Jake had. Spices and cream . “There is only one way to find out.”

His gaze darkens, pulling me deeper. It’s hard to look away, but I force myself to, because otherwise I might do something stupid like lean over the table and have my way with his mouth. Not that he looks like he’d mind, but I’m not a big fan of public displays.

In electrified silence, we finish our drinks. I am overly conscious of him, of my own movements and the slightly shallower rate of my breathing. I wonder if he can notice how worked up I am, if he too is just as affected.

“There’s one more place I’d like to show you,” he says suddenly, gazing out the window at the snowy street.

“Okay…” When he doesn’t follow up, I add, “What place?”

His lips flirt with a smile. “You’ll see.”

A buzz of excitement spreads through me as I nod and follow him out of the café. The snow has picked up a bit, but the forecast says it won’t get much worse than this for today. At least there’s that, or otherwise I’d have been stuck in the hotel all day. While I might not be the biggest fan of the cold, I needed a change of scenery.

We stop in front of a store with fairy lights and garlands decorating the window. A bell chimes when we enter. It’s pleasantly warm inside and smells like coffee and wool. Racks of coats, jackets, hats, scarves and boots litter the interior in haphazard lines, giving the space a cozy vibe. A man with rosy cheeks and a full beard appears from a backroom behind the wooden counter and welcomes us with a smile.

“Well, if it isn’t Jake! To what do I owe the pleasure?” He nods at me, the laugh lines around his eyes deepening. “Don’t tell me you ripped another jacket!”

Jake laughs. It’s an easy sound that warms me on the inside even more than the actual heat from the shop’s fireplace. “I didn’t, I didn’t!” He waves the man off. “I’m here because this one”—he hooks a finger at me—“needs a pair of warm gloves.”

I blink, processing, and hold up my hands to inspect them. Now that he brought my attention to them, they are a little numb. My fingertips are red and I can feel the bite of the cold.

“Wool, leather?”

Crossing his arms, Jake gives me a once-over and grins. “He’s the leather-type, I’d say.”

I narrow my eyes at him. I get why it might seem that way, but I am perfectly fine with wool. And, on a side note, I need a coat or a jacket more than gloves. But as Jake begins discussing padding and cuts with the shop owner, I snuggle into the parka I’ve borrowed and reevaluate that thought. It smells like Jake and it’s very comfy. I wouldn’t mind wearing this for the entire duration of my stay here. In fact, part of me really likes that idea. So, if Jake had the same thought and that’s why he didn’t say anything, who am I to blame him?

Another ten minutes pass before I am handed two pairs of gloves. One is a lighter color with a thin insulation layer, while the other pair is thicker but a little warmer. I go for the latter.

“Great choice, young man!” the shop owner says, smiling. “Are you Jake’s friend? He never brings anyone down to the village.”

I look around. Jake has disappeared, browsing somewhere. Lowering my voice a little as I hand the man cash for the gloves, I say, “Not really. I’m a guest who was having a very unfortunate time before Jake decided to be my savior.”

I’m met with a knowing chuckle. “That’s our Jakey. Always sticking his nose in other people’s business.” He knocks loudly on the wooden counter, tipping his chin at the painting of a summer landscape above the fireplace. “He used to help around the village before he started his chef training at the hotel. All kinds of handyman work and odd jobs. We all thought he’d start his own little thing, but one morning he came with this pie. Apple it was. Said to have a bite and tell him what I thought. Let me tell you, it was the most delicious pie I’ve ever had, better than even my granny’s. So I told him. He grinned and announced he was going to be a chef.”

I shake my head. Somehow, this sounds just like Jake. I haven’t known him for long, so I’m no expert, but I can imagine it so easily. He’s helping the folks around the village until one day he rushes here with a pie and decides to be a chef. It’s a bit ridiculous, but then again, so is Jake. In an intriguing and endearing way.

“Sounds about right,” I agree with a smile of my own.

“He’s a good kid. We’ll miss him when he leaves to start his own restaurant down south. It’s been his dream. But, maybe it’s for the best. Gives folks like me a reason to leave this place and go on a holiday.”

When the man laughs again, I can’t help but join in. It’s so obvious he holds Jake dear, maybe even sees him as a son. But I can’t imagine it’s hard; Jake has a way with people, an easy charm that makes it impossible not to like him.

It’s the complete opposite of me, now that I think about it. I’m not an asshole, even though some people are quick to assume that, but I find it hard to make friends or chat random people up the way he does. Then there is my status. Some find it intimidating, others want to take advantage of it, so I also have to be careful who I let in.

I cut off a snort at myself. Not that I let Jake in. No, no. I didn’t really have a say in any of it. He simply barreled right in and made it impossible to ignore him.

“And here,” the man inhabiting my thoughts says behind me, and wraps a fluffy wool scarf around my neck. “How is it? Mine is a bit old, so I think it’s better to get you one.”

I stroke the material and inhale it. It smells like new, like something that will be mine and won’t have even a trace of Jake.

I turn around after rubbing the material some more. It is nice, very much so. A higher grade than the one I’m currently wearing, too. “But I like yours,” I blurt out, pulling Jake’s scarf from under the new one and inhaling it in. “It smells nice.”

Jake’s eyes go wide and his hand freezes mid-lift. I think he was reaching for the old scarf. The loveliest flush tints his cheeks as he lets his hand fall down, and for a few moments, he looks like he has no idea what to say or do. It’s refreshing, considering I’m the one usually gaping at him with my jaw hanging.

“Oh,” he says eventually, sounding a little breathless. His eyes shimmer with something that sends goosebumps down my arms and back. “Okay. Then I guess we don’t need a scarf if you are happy to use mine.” Biting on his lip, he stifles a smile. “And keep it. You can totally keep it.”

“Maybe I will.”

He blinks at me. The shop owner laughs. I’m with him. I don’t know what I’m saying, but, well, I don’t feel like taking it back either. I can be spontaneous too. Brave. I blame it on Jake’s easy confidence rubbing on me.

Jake looks happy in a new way as we bid goodbye to the older man. He leads me down the street to the corner, where we turn left. We pass a few more shops and I even hear the buzz of Christmas songs. Strangely, I don’t mind them as much as I did when I arrived.

Another block, and we reach the edge of the village. Fields of pure white stretch before me, untouched and wild. Jake vaults over the wooden fence where they start and offers me his hand. I take it, mirroring what he did. Instead of letting go of me, he uses the strength advantage he has and pushes me against the fence, effectively caging me between it and himself. I prop my ass on the top rail, losing track of everything but him as his beautiful face with its wild halo of curly hair fills my vision.

There is no one around. It’s just the two of us and the snow. He took his cap off at the clothes shop and hasn’t put it back on, so a thin sheet of snow has accumulated on his head. I reach out and ruffle his locks until it’s gone.

His eyelashes flutter and he hums. Then he shakes his head to get rid of anything I might’ve missed and leans forward, placing his hands on both my sides. He’s completely boxed me in, standing so close I can feel his warmth seeping into me. It causes little zaps of pleasure across my entire body.

“You meant what you said in the shop? About my scarf?” he says, his whiskey-brown eyes imploring. His hand grips one end of the scarf and pulls gently.

I dip my head and inhale into the cloth. Spices, cream and Jake, that’s what it smells like. It’s intoxicating, sending desire through me. “Yes. I like it,” I breathe out and hold his hypnotizing gaze. “A lot.”

“I really want to kiss you right now,” he whispers, his voice like honey and silk.

“Who is stopping you?”

Nuzzling his nose against mine, he smiles. His hand clasps the back of my neck and tilts my head up as our lips meet. I can taste the mocha and the berry cake on him. Slowly, he pushes his tongue past my teeth. It’s hot and slick and I welcome it, tangling mine with it as he takes charge of the kiss. I love that he does. I can feel how hungry he is for me as he licks every inch of my mouth, as he swallows my gasps and lets out tiny moans of his own. I’m on fire despite the cold as I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him closer so I can feel more of him.

The dance of our tongues turns into a gradual chase, but even so, it retains that underlying gentleness that Jake exhibits in everything he does. He’s greedy, but deliberate, thoroughly exploring me as I explore him in turn. His free hand roams, dipping under my shirt just like I fantasized about. He’s somehow lost the glove and the feel of skin-to-skin contact unleashes an onslaught of tingling pleasure across my back that assaults my core.

I will combust from how good it feels to be touched by him. I could kiss him forever. But we do part eventually, both of us gasping for air.

“When was the last time you made a snowman?” he asks, kissing the corner of my mouth.

I pull back a little and lift an eyebrow. “A snowman ?”

Grinning, he shrugs and takes out a carrot and two old buttons from the pocket of his coat. “Yep, a snowman. I promise it will be fun.”

I shake my head and let him drag me further into the field. I haven’t made one in more than a decade. I haven’t even thought about it, and not only because I live where the temperature doesn’t fall below sixty-five. But as he starts rolling snow for the base, a thrum of excitement awakens in me.

So I join him, hoping I won’t embarrass myself with how bad my snowman-making skills are.