27. February 1- Wilder

"Psst. Do you want to go outside?" I whisper, hovering over her as she sleeps on the couch. Savannah playfully pushes me away and grumbles something I can't understand. "It's snowing. It's snowed a lot, but I think it's letting up. Let's go for a walk."

"Only you and your love for all things nature would want to go for a walk in that bullshit," she huffs, sitting up and pulling her messy bun until her long hair flows around her shoulders.

"I want to go for a walk with you. Come on, Savannah," I beg, sticking my lower lip out like a child. "We have two weeks left. Indulge me."

I can hear the sadness in my voice, and I hate myself. I shouldn't be sad. What's the saying that says don't regret the sadness of a lost relationship? Be happy that it happened? Something like that. Then again, I always get those relationship quotes wrong.

My body itches for outside when I lie in bed at night. Some people think I'm crazy for liking the feel of sleeping on the ground with the sounds of nature around me, but I miss it. I toss and turn in Savannah's bed for reasons I don't understand. I've never felt so uneasy at the end of a cuff. Even if I'll miss her, my body must know I want out. That has to be why I can't sleep.

I grab her hand and pull her to her feet, wrapping the scarf I already grabbed from the closet around her neck. "Let's make snow angels."

She laughs but lets me push her toward the door and her winter coat that's hanging from her coat hook. "Are we five?"

"Have we met? You know I have the maturity of a five-year-old. Come on. You finally feel better. You need fresh air." I look down at her feet and walk over to her shoe cubby. "You also need snow boots."

She sighs and lets me help her with her coat, buttoning it in silence as I throw on my own coat, hat, and scarf. She steps into her mid-shin, black boots as I tie my waterproof boots.

Once we're both ready, I open the door, and we tromp silently through the apartment building until I swing open the main door like I'm a SWAT team member on a mission, the door bouncing against the side of the building in my excitement. As soon as the cold air hits my face, I lift my eyes to the sky and inhale the cool air like I've been at the bottom of a pool for an hour.

Fresh air. Nature. Birds chirp from the trees, the worst of the snowstorm over. Fat flakes of snow still drop from the sky, but they're slow and lazy. I look down at my boots and notice they're almost covered. "About six inches. Nice."

"Not nice, Wilder. I have to work tomorrow. Think they'll have the roads clear?"

I turn and pull her to me. She stumbles in the snow, and I wrap my arms around her waist before she falls. "Only you would think of something like that and not want to be snowed in with a sex god."

She turns her face up to mine, and I wipe the wet drops of melted snow off her skin. I lean down to lightly kiss her, and even the birds go silent. Are they watching from their nests and entertained by the lovers in front of a basic apartment building?

Lovers that won't be lovers in another two weeks.

I pull away at the thought and smile. "Let's make those snow angels."

She looks around, confused. "Where? Can you show me how?"

I scowl. "Have you never made a snow angel?"

"I didn't get out much as a kid. If a big snow came, I sat inside reading a book and watched Heather get drunk off Hot Toddies."

I hold up a hand. "Do not tell me you've never even made a snowman, Savannah Smart."

She looks at me, not smiling. "I, Savannah Smart, have never made a snowman."

I place my hands on my hips and sigh, looking around the snow and kicking it a bit. Wet snow. Perfect for snowman building. "Well, thank fuck you found me in October and we're spending the winter together. I can't let you age into a crotchety woman without making a snowman and at least one snow angel. You needed me in your life for these months."

She looks around the snow at her feet in confusion and doesn't respond to my suggestion that she needs me to make her more adventurous. She does nothing to acknowledge how different and more open she is now. "What do we do first?"

Over the next half hour, I teach Savannah the art of snowballs that get rolled into bigger snowballs, the first being the base of the snowman body. Once we have that in place, we make the middle section, laughing as she pushes the ball over the snow. I pat it into shape before lifting it on top of the base. "We need a small ball for the head."

Savannah stares at me a second and then sputters. She doubles over and holds her stomach. "What's so funny?" I smile.

She laughs harder until she can barely speak. "You said we need a small ball for head. Get it?"

She laughs until she snorts while I nod and purse my lips. "You know, Savannah, I think you've become immature and childish in our time together. In the same time, I've grown into a bigger person that would never make a ball joke."

She straightens up and stops laughing. "I've been a good influence on you, and you've been a bad influence on me, Wilder Lynx."

I flex my jaw and force my lips into a tight line. "I'll show you bad influence," I growl, bending and picking up a wad of snow.

"Oh, shit!" she squeals, turning and taking off at a sprint. Well, as much of a sprint that the heavy snow around her ankles and shins will allow.

Snow flies up like spittle from the ground as her boots crunch through the snow. She runs in a zig zag, but I still nail her in the back with a snowball. Her laughter rings through the air, and the birds in the trees take flight as I take off after her.

My legs are longer and stronger from hiking, so it takes only a few seconds for me to catch up to her. I could grab her hood or her scarf and pull her back, but I wait until I can get my arms around her for a full tackle. I don't worry about hurting her because the snow cushions our fall, and we roll around as she struggles and laughs against my chest.

I pin her to the ground with my legs and hold her arms above her head while placing kisses all over her face. "Did…you…really…think…you…could…outrun…me?" I taunt, kissing her between each word.

She laughs under me and squirms. "You're turning me on with the squirming," I say, running my tongue up her face and tasting the salt of her skin. "You know how much I love to make you squirm under me."

Heat blossoms on her cheeks, and I look up at the windows nearby, wondering if we could get away with a quick fuck in the snow, even if it would be uncomfortable. She takes my hat off and throws it nearby. Gripping my hair, she brings my mouth down to hers. There will be no quick fuck in the snow, but I'm going to kiss the shit out of her.

The whiteness of the snow against her rosy cheeks and red nose combine to make me lose my breath. She's stunningly gorgeous as she laces her fingers between mine and lets me hold her hands down again.

I kiss her hungrily, and we breathe into each other as we taste each other and enjoy the sensation of cold weather and the heat between us. I'm surprised steam doesn't rise off our bodies.

She pulls back first and finds my eyes. "I never thanked you for taking care of me when I was sick."

I kiss the tip of her nose. "How do you want to thank me, Savannah?"

Her eyes flick to the abandoned snowman behind me, and she bites her lip like she's thinking. While she thinks, I push my legs between hers and raise and lower her arms in a straight line. "What are you doing?" she asks, chuckling.

"I'm making sure you get that snow angel in before we get up and move inside for warmer activities."

She giggles again but lets me push her arms and legs in perfect snow angel movements until I crawl off her and offer her a hand to pull her up. Once she's on her feet, she looks back and frowns at the ground. "What's wrong?" I ask. "Do you not like your snow angel?"

"It looks like…well, it looks like someone held me down and forced me to make a snow angel."

"Want me to hold you down while we do other things?"

"No," she mumbles, resting her head on my cheek as I wrap my arms around her. "But I'd love for you to run your hands through my hair while I suck you dry. Remember, I want to thank you."

"Don't threaten me with a good time," I chuckle, picking her up like I picked her up a couple weeks ago to place her into the tub.

I mumble an apology at the half-finished snowman and kick the door open to take my librarian to her bed. As I stomp up the stairs, Savannah giggling in my arms before I throw her over my shoulder like she's a sack of potatoes, I know I'll have a hard time getting her out of my head next month.