Страница 74 из 117
It seems my dumbass mouth and I didn’t ruin the day after all, thank God.
After the first run, where I found Rain was surprisingly agile on a snowboard for his first time down a mountain, we got in line and it was almost like the whole damn thing on the mountain never happened.
He smiled more, kept giving me glances when he thought I wasn’t looking.
Flirted with me, held my hand. Kissed me when he fucking pleased without shame or hesitation.
For the last few hours, it’s been nothing short of the perfect day.
And it felt like…a date, or something.
Which begs the question, can you date your fuck buddy?
I’m pulled from my thoughts as I’m slipping back into the lounge area of the lodge from a quick bathroom break. This place never gets old, with the vaulted two story ceiling, all the exposed wood beams giving off that mountain lodge feel people pay insane amounts of money to experience. Especially with the massive wall of windows to the left facing the mountains with a wooden deck attached, the place screams Colorado in all the best ways.
Glancing around the spacious room, I look for Rain. He’s not by the stacked stone fireplace getting warm, nor sitting on one of the brown leather sectionals filling the space. Checking the upper balcony, I don’t see him at one of the tables in the dining area either.
But when I glance over to the wall I just walked through from the bathroom, I find him. His back is to me, attention trained on the TV mounted on the wall broadcasting the news.
I take a second to watch him without his knowledge, observe him in his natural state.
But something seems…off.
His hand is clutching his jacket he removed when we got inside so tight, his knuckles are whiter than the snow outside. The veins on the back of his hand are popping out of his skin from the strain. And his shoulders…they’re rigid. Tense beneath the cotton of his long sleeve shirt.
Moving my gaze from Rain to the television, I read the subtitles on the screen to see they’re talking about that senator, the one who apparently was raping a kid.
Sick, depraved people these days, using their power to abuse people. Children, for God’s sake.
No fucking wonder Rain is agitated. I am too, seeing this kind of thing on the news, probably about to be swept under the rug like it never happened. Because that’s what money and power can buy you in this country.
It’s sickening.
And taking into account how he feels about what happened in the shower… Fuck.
Moving up behind him as quietly as I can manage, I lean forward and bite down on the base of his neck, right above the collar of his shirt. He starts slightly, but he must know it’s me because the hand not holding his jacket reaches out behind him and grips my shirt.
“You look like you could use a massage,” I murmur in his ear, slipping my hands up to knead his shoulders. They instantly relax under my touch and I smile against the skin of his neck. “That’s better, yeah baby?”
He groans when I continue working out the knots from his shoulders, wondering when was the last time he had someone do something like this for him. Touch him, give him affection just for the sake of making him feel appreciated and loved.
God, there’s that damn word again, ru Nuzzling my nose behind his ear, I do my best to relax his mind as well as his body. “I see what you’re doing. The way your head is spi Rain sighs, leaning his head back against my shoulder, his back pressed against my front. “I know, Riv. I know,” he tells me, letting his head loll to look at me before brushing his lips lightly over mine. “And as good as this feels, I need you to stop before I have to go searching for a private place to bend you over and give you your favorite kind of massage.” My ass clenches and cock twitches at his words, knowing full well what he means. “You know I would be perfectly fine finding a broom closet to have a little rendezvous in.” “Let’s put a pin in that plan, yeah babe?” He smiles and his soft laugh against my lips just does something to me. Good things. Wonderful things. Fucking dangerous things. He turns around in front of me, my hands sliding off his shoulders and back down to my sides. “I’m going to grab something to drink,” he says softly. “You want anything?” I bite my lip to think of drink options, which is really fucking hard when all I really want is to revisit the broom closet idea. “Maybe hot chocolate? Hot cider? Something warm?” “How about some eggnog? That’ll warm you up real quick,” he grins deviously. Shaking my head, I chuckle. “Don’t you dare, one of us has to be sober enough to drive back up the damn mountain.” But the shithead he is, he just starts backing up towards the stairs to get our drinks, calling out for me to find us a place to sit. Okay, I’d much rather go find a damn broom closet though. Damn him for putting those kinds of ideas in my head. “Le Spi Which normally wouldn’t be a shock, but I haven’t seen him since August when he left to go back to Michigan. “Taylor Scott? Do my eyes fucking deceive me?” He leans forward, pulling his arm from around the girl’s shoulders and motions for me to join him. “Don’t be a dick and get the fuck over here,” he laughs, standing from his place on the sofa before offering his hand to his…friend? Although from the way his eyes are glued to her as he helps her up or the way his fingers linger on her skin…I’d wager they are much more than just companions. He hasn’t mentioned anything to me about a girl, other than the two he lets run his life back in Michigan like two tiny dictators, as he calls them. Part of me wonders if this is one of them. His eyes, a similar shade to mine, dance with a hint of mischief as he pulls me in for a quick hug. “Hey man, how are you? Dad said you were out this way at the cabin.” My brows enter my hairline. “He told you I was out here?” He nods, bobbing his head of light brown hair. “Yeah. when I asked to use the cabin for break, he mentioned he sentenced you and a teammate to exile for fighting?” Taylor shakes his head, laughing. “What the hell, man? You’ve never been one to have a hot head.” He’s not wrong. But…he’s also never met Ciaráin Grady. “Shit changes when you aren’t here to keep me in line, T,” I grin, referring to him by his nickname from our childhood. “What brings you out? Skiing? Where are you staying?” “Oh, we rented an AirBNB near the edge of town.” He gives a half smile, white teeth peeking out. “Not as good of a view as the cabin, but it works.” “And um, who is we?” I ask, glancing down at the girl beside him. Her hair, while a beautiful dark auburn color, is nothing in comparison to her ridiculously vivid green eyes. So damn green, I swear I could count individual blades of grass in them.