Ivy

F or the first time all day, I’m not regretting my choice to wear my ski pants and jacket. I was supposed to be outside for most of the day, but instead, it’s been a long day of phone calls and emails. I’ve spent a good portion of the day fantasizing about what I’m hoping is a night full of incredibly hot sex with the man I saw helping one of our elderly guests off the ski lift this morning. The patience and care he has is not limited to helping old ladies, and that benefits me in the best of ways. I’m getting ready to text said man to tell him I’m on my way home when the view stuns me.

The snow is crunchy beneath my feet, and the moon is full, casting light onto glittering snow. It really is beautiful. If you would have told me a month ago, I’d be enjoying the view from the top of this mountain and growing attached to this place. I wouldn’t have believed you, but I’ll miss it here when my sentence is served and I go back home. Home. That word has lost a little of its shine while I’ve been in Silverthorne. A place that’s welcomed me despite being an outsider to their close-knit, small town. It makes my chest feel funny.

Alder wanted to meet me when I finished for the day, but I insisted I’d be fine. I could tell he was a little reluctant, but he didn’t argue. A man in my life respecting my wishes? It’s unheard of. I make it to my cabin just as the snow starts up again, fully expecting it to be dark, but there's a glow coming from inside. I halt, almost skidding on the light dusting that’s starting to accumulate. My mind instantly goes to Noah. He said he was leaving, but this wouldn’t be the first time he’s lied. I don’t think I could even count all the lies at this point.

I’m getting sucked into a panic when I hear music. I turn my head, and that’s when I recognize The Rolling Stones. Alder. I feel myself smile just thinking of his name. I doubt I’m in the minority in that respect. I’m very concerned about how I instantly feel like if he’s in there, waiting for me, then I can master my panic. Hell, I think I could take on a Russian spy when he’s near. Yes, that’s concerning, but I’ll concern myself with it later. Right now? Right now, I’ve got a smokin’ hot snowboarder inside my cabin, and I’m ready to send it. I think I’ll use that line on Alder; he’ll love it.

I’ve just thought of the perfect thing to yell when I walk inside, but when I open my door, I’m stunned silent.

I’m fully aware that I’m letting cold air and snow inside, but I’m having trouble remembering how to move, and to be honest, I also refuse to take my eyes off the man before me. Missing one second of this would be detrimental to my health or at least my sexual fantasies to conjure up later. Alder Holloway is in the small living room in nothing but a white towel slung low on his hips, singing. He turns from the fireplace and meets my eyes briefly. His are crinkled at the corners, and he’s smiling so big I can see all his perfect teeth, not that I can look anywhere but at his torso at this moment.

The lines of his abs that I’m dying to lick flex as he starts moving toward me. I give the cut V, smattered with dark hair, one more longing look before I shift my eyes up to his again. He’s singing about how I keep telling him he’s not my kind of man, but here when it’s just us in this space. I think Alder may be my only kind of man. I may be ruined for any other after this. He stops singing when he sees my expression. I tend to play it cool, but I can’t hide how badly I want him. How this is all I’ve been looking forward to all day.

He’s dancing his way over to me now, and the grin on his face is truly mesmerizing. The sway of his hips is hypnotic. How was it that a month ago, I thought I could hold my own against him? Choose whichever metaphor you prefer; I am a moth to his white-hot flame. He doesn’t break eye contact or stop singing when he reaches me. His toned arms reach around me, closing the door. Hands that I am dying to have on me unwind the scarf at my neck, then slide down each of my arms, stopping at my fingers. He grips both of my middle fingers and pulls my gloves from my hands, and fuck, why is that the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me? Then the zipper on my coat is next; he drags it down swiftly, but it’s too slow for me. I’m suddenly grateful I chose this one and not my favorite with all the buttons. He pushes the offending object off my shoulders, taking the suspenders attached to my ski pants with it. Untucking my shirt, he stares into me with eyes that tonight remind me of ice and how it burns if it’s in contact with your skin for too long. Burn me. Please. His lips twitch, and for a split second, I’m afraid I’ve said it out loud. I wet my lips, and his chest expands with a sharp intake of air. We still haven’t spoken. The thought solidifies what I already know. We hide behind our words, trading jabs and innuendos, and it’s allowed us to feel like we’re in control of where this has been heading.

The music is still playing, but it fades to the background around us. He lifts his chin at me in an unspoken request, and I lift my arms without hesitation.

“Good girl.” He breathes out. Indignation and something I’m not ready to name flow through me. My cheeks burn, and my mouth pops open, but before I can make a sound, before I can tell him I’m nobody’s good girl and he can fuck right off, he whips my shirt halfway over my head, leaving my eyes covered. My arms are still in the air, stuck inside my shirt as he leans into me. I gasp as my bare back makes contact with the cold door then feel his hot breath in my ear.

“Shh, .” The gravel in his voice sets a fire in me. “We both know I love when you’re being mean to me. I get off on it.” Oh, god. I’m buying whatever he’s selling. “But I’m thinking tonight we do things a little differently. Tonight, you’re going to do what you’re told, and we’re both really going to enjoy that.” He nips my earlobe, and I let out an embarrassingly loud moan, only I’m so turned on I can’t bring myself to feel embarrassed. He gives my shirt a small tug, leaving me in just my bra, and reaches around me. I arch my back to give him space to unhook it. He hums when it drops to our feet. I’m now naked from the waist up, my nipples are peaked, and my skin is hot. And the way he’s looking at me like I could be his last meal and he would die happy makes me breathless.

“Hands on my shoulders, ,” he commands. It’s gentle, but I know a command when I hear one. It takes everything in me not to fight him, but he shakes his head at me. He knows I’m biting my tongue. I place my hands on his broad shoulders, and he crouches in front of me. The image has my head spinning. I am good and drunk on this man. He grips my knee and lifts a leg to slide my boot off, and I steady myself on him. He does the same with the other before reaching up to unsnap my pants and drag them down my legs.

His face is level with the part of me that needs him the most, so when he bends his head and kisses me through my lace panties, I almost combust right here in the entryway before he’s even really touched me. When did I get so needy?

“Alder?” I plead. I don’t think I’ve ever pleaded in my life, but here I am, ready to beg for him.

“I know.” Is his only reply. It comes out a quiet rumble while he sits back on his heels and pulls my pants down to my feet. His full attention is on me. God, why do I love that so much? It’s like he can hear my thoughts, and I’m beyond trying to hide them. “You love this, don’t you? Me on my knees in front of you, telling you what a good girl you are.” He hooks his thumbs into the pants around my ankles.

“Step.” I step away from the door. Out of my pants. Closer to him—his mouth. “That’s good, . Really good,” he praises me, hot air whispering over my thighs. My insides turn molten. His hands encircle my ankles, thumbs rubbing little massaging circles into them, slowly moving up my calves, and when he reaches my thighs, he grips them tightly and stands, taking me with him. His towel is no longer around his waist—only my legs, and I clench them tighter when the friction of his hard stomach rubbing into me stokes the fire inside me higher and hotter.

“You like it when I tell you how good you are, don’t you?” My fingers dig into his shoulders tighter, and I bite my lip. He makes a sound in the back of his throat, letting me know he likes that. Me marking him. “Tell me, .” I shake my head, and that earns me a slap on the ass. I whine. “Tell me how you soaked through these panties when I told you how good of a girl you were being.” I don’t say anything or make a move to answer, but he’s right. So fucking right, and he knows it. I’m a confident woman. I can speak openly about anything.

But this. It feels so intimate. He’s looking at me. Waiting for an answer.

“Yes,” I whisper. He smiles slightly at my admission. Confirmation that he’s right. Fuck is he smug. Or at least that’s what I think until he deposits me on the couch in the open living room.

“That’s so fucking good to hear, baby. I’m so fucking proud of you.” Baby? I’m stunned. By how good I feel to have told him and how good it feels to hear those words. I’m so fucking proud of you. I didn’t realize what those words would do to me. I’m hot and wet. My throat feels tight, but I’ve never felt lighter.

“God, you’re gorgeous, .” He slides his left hand up my body, stopping to cup my breast, massaging. Gently at first, then more firmly. His right hand slides my panties to the side, and he dips one finger inside me. I want to scream.

“Please.” I pant. God, I am so desperate.

“Please what, baby? What do you want me to do to this pretty pussy? Should I start with worshiping it with my tongue?” I nod, half-delirious. “Words, .” I glare at him.

“I want your mouth on me, so you’ll shut the fuck up,” I snap, and he chuckles, shaking his head and tsking.

“, that’s not what we’re doing tonight. You said you’d be good for me. Can you do that?” I’m equal parts turned on and ready to kick him off the couch. I start to nod, but he grips my chin with his index finger and thumb. It’s gentle, but it stops me and forces me to meet his glassy eyes. “Say you’re going to be good for me. I want the words,” he tells me slowly. His voice is already thick, and I want him. Badly. I open my mouth, ready to give in when an idea strikes. I stick my tongue out and lick his thumb.

His jaw slackens, and his groan loosens in his chest. “Fuuuuck, baby,” he grits out before sticking his thumb into my waiting mouth. I leave my mouth open, staring at him innocently. Waiting for instruction. “Suck.” His voice is harsh and rough, and I’m dripping. I wrap my lips around his thumb, flattening my tongue against it. Then I suck, hollowing my cheeks. His eyes ignite. I moan, and his lids start to look heavy at the noise. I buck my hips up, needing friction. “Do you want me to touch that pretty pussy now?” I nod and suck harder, groaning. “You look so pretty sucking on my thumb like this baby. Are you wishing it was my dick?” I mmhmm around him and pull his thumb out of my mouth with a loud wet pop.

“I want you, Alder,” I demand. He smiles, but not in the way that tells me I’m getting what I want. I whine, and he chuckles.

“What do you want, princess? Do you want me on my knees?” he teases me, pinching a nipple as he kneels before me. I cry out at the sensation.

“I want you to stop teasing me and fuck me.” I growl. Alder’s eyes are two blue flames now. He grips my thigh, lifting it up, and thrusts inside me. “Yes, oh god, yes,” I call out. He continues to pump into me until I can’t breathe. I don’t remember how to breathe or my own name anymore. I just know that I don’t want Alder to ever stop or ever be away from me. That thought scares the shit out of me and has me coming harder than I ever have in my life .

“Say you’re mine, .”

“I’m yours, I’m yours!” I scream as he fucks me through my orgasm. I feel like I’m in another universe.

“That’s right, baby. Mine .” Alder grunts and finishes inside me, calling out my name and landing on top of me. I run my fingers through his still-damp hair. Content to stay here, just like this, listening to his breathing sync with mine and with his arms banding around my back and shoulders, cradling me. Moments like this have me rethinking my plans. Rethinking what I want my life to look like, what it could look like. Who I might want to keep in it.