Under the Mistletoe with Me (With Me in Seattle, #1.5)(11)

What the…?

I cross to the sliding door that leads out to the deck and pull the sheer curtains aside and gasp.

Snow! It freaking snowed! There must be six inches of soft white powder covering everything. It’s absolutely breathtaking.

It never snows in Seattle, my ass.

Of course, we are up in the mountains, so Seattle might very well just be wet today.

Thunk.

What the hell is that?

I pull on my jeans and sweater, socks and shoes, and search the house. Isaac is nowhere to be found. I peek out the back door and find him near the lean-to by the house, splitting firewood.

Holy shit!

His faded blue jeans mold around his perfect ass and long legs. He’s wearing a black t-shirt, and his fleece Northface jacket is lying over the railing nearby. The hair at the nape of his neck is dark with sweat.

He props another log on the stump, raises the axe over his head and brings it down with a loud thunk, sending the two new pieces flying in either direction.

God, the man is strong, and can do amazing things with tools.

I stand and just watch him for a moment, enjoying the view. The muscles in his shoulders flex and move with each swing of the axe.

I take a deep breath enjoying the scent of the pine trees and cold snow. It’s not unbearably cold, just enough to make my cheeks pink and I can see my breath with each exhale. The snow has hushed everything around us, and it feels like we’re the only two people for miles and miles.

Thunk.

Okay, time to get his attention. I grin slyly and gather a large hand full of snow, forming a ball, and take aim. I hit Isaac right at the back of his neck, sending cold snow down his shirt.

“What the hell?” He spins and glares at me. “Did you just throw snow at me?”

“Me?” I widen my eyes innocently. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Uh, huh.” He sets the axe down, removes his gloves and eyes me speculatively. “I’m not buying the innocent act.”

I can’t keep a straight face and I start to back up as he slowly advances.

“Really,” a giggle escapes me. “I didn’t do it.”

“There’s no one else here, baby.”

“Maybe it fell out of a tree?” I ask hopefully and continue backing up. He bends down and gathers a large ball of snow in his hands, grins, and throws it at me, hitting me in the shoulder.

“Hey!” We stand, panting, grinning, and then sprint into action, gathering snow and throwing it at each other. He hits me way more than I hit him because I can’t stop laughing long enough to really see where I’m throwing the damn snow.

“You’re not good at this,” he laughs.

“Shut up!” I throw another wad of snow, this time hitting him in the face. He shakes his head and brushes it off and glares at me.

“Now you’ve done it.”

“I’m not scared of you,” I taunt him and throw another handful of snow that lands nowhere near him.

“Nice try.” He grins widely, his blue eyes on fire and suddenly runs toward me.

“Shit!” I squeal, my heart in my throat, and run away from him. I’m so about to get it.

He catches me easily, wraps an arm around my waist and tackles me to the ground, cushioning me against the hard ground with his own body, then rolling us so he’s on top of me, pressing me into the soft, wet snow.

“You’re in so much trouble,” he murmurs.

“I swear,” I giggle and twist beneath him, trying to get away. “I didn’t do it.”

“You are such a bad liar. You just threw about thirty snowballs at me.”

“I didn’t throw the first one.”

“Uh, huh.” He laughs and grabs a handful of snow and holds it over my face.

“Don’t you dare!”

His eyes are dancing menacingly. “What’ll you give me if I spare you?”

“A hug.”

“Lame.” Snow is smeared into my hair.

“Damn it!” I giggle and twist some more, but it’s no use against his strong body.

“Try again.”

Because it’s my only defense, I grip his face in my hands and pull him down to me, kissing him thoroughly. His fingers burrow into my hair and he responds immediately, brushing his lips over mine, back and forth, then diving in deeply, his tongue dancing with mine.

I spread my legs, and he settles his hips between them, allowing me to cradle him, and I feel his erection against me.

“Mmm,” I moan and roll my hips, making him gasp.

He slows the kiss, so it’s lazy and unhurried, gently nibbling my lips.

“You’re so sweet.” He murmurs. “Look at me.”

I open my eyes to see him gazing down at me, his hands are rhythmically brushing my hair.

“I love you, Stace.”

“I love you too, Eyes.”

He smiles lovingly, kisses my lips chastely, then my forehead and pushes himself off me, pulling me with him.

“Come on,” he keeps my hand in his and pulls me toward the house, trudging through the slippery snow.

“Where are we going?” I ask breathlessly.

“Shower. I’m sweaty and I want you naked.”

Yes, please.

He’s in a hurry. He leads me through the house, heedlessly leaving a trail of wet snow behind us, to the master suite. “Strip,” he commands and leaves me to start the shower in the impressive bathroom.