Chapter 217: Penny
We stay in the igloo for almost an hour.
Curled together on the fleece blankets, sipping hot chocolate that’s now lukewarm but still somehow perfect. The marshmallows are just barely holding then shape, floating lazily in the mug I cradle between my palms. His arm’s wrapped around my waist, hand resting warm and protective at the base of my spine like he needs me as close as I need him..
He tells me everything.
How he started building it two weeks ago. How he’d sneak out after training and chip away at it in the middle of the night like some kind of snow–obsessed vigilante. He made a mold from a bucket. Did a dozen prototypes before it held its shape.
He says, “I almost gave up the first night. My fingers went numb.”
I glance at his hands. They’re so big. So strong.
And so gentle when they hold me.
“And yet,” I murmur, tracing a line up the back of his wrist, “you didn’t.”
He shrugs like it’s no big deal. But his eyes stay on mine.
“You’re not exactly easy to give up on.”
God.
He could say that again.
We talk about everything. Stupid things. Serious things. My spring gala rehearsals, the hilarious way Boomer sings along to classic rock like he’s 60 years old. He teases me about the time I fell asleep in his passenger seat and drooled on the window. I remind him about the time he tried to assemble IKEA furniture and ended up stabbing the wall with a screwdriver.
He laughs, deep and real, and every time it happens I feel it down to my bones.
But even in the laughter, there’s heat.
Because every time I shift in his lap, he adjusts like his body’s wired to mine. Every time I look at him too long, he strokes a slow, thoughtful finger down my arm. He’s not kissing me, not right now–but I can feel it in the air. The promise of it. The pull.
It’s not just attraction.
It’s not even just love.
It’s gravity.
Eventually, he brushes the tip of my nose with his knuckle, frowns at how cold it’s gotten, and says, “Time to head inside.”
I pout dramatically. “I was trying to freeze to death in your arms. So romantic.”
He just smirks and pulls me up.
We walk together, hand in hand, boots crunching over the snow. His house glows softly ahead, like something out of a snow globe. The porch is lit, the windows warm.
When we step inside, I forget how to breathe.
The tree we decorated two weeks ago looks like it belongs in a catalogue. The white lights shimmer against the glass ornaments. The little cinnamon stick reindeer we made is front and center. And beneath the tree, two small wrapped gifts wait patiently.
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Chapter 217; Penny
I don’t even know what’s in them.
It doesn’t matter.
Because I’m hit with this feeling, deep in my chest.
This is his house. But it feels like home.
Maybe because he’s here.
Maybe because he is my home now.
I’m toeing off my boots and starting toward the couch when I hear his voice behind me.
“Ah–ah.”
A sound of disapproval.
A tsk.
Before I can turn, his hands grip my hips and steer me in the other direction.
I glance over my shoulder. “What?”
He lowers his mouth to my ear. “Last surprise.”
I blink at him.
Then blink again when he opens the bedroom door.
Oh.
Oh, God.
Candles line every surface. Soft instrumental music plays from somewhere I can’t see. The air smells like lavender and something darker, something warm and musky. The sheets are folded back, the pillows fluffed, the lighting dim and golden.
It doesn’t look like his bedroom.
It looks like a spa.
His eyes go hot when they find mine.
“You work harder than anyone I know,” he says. “You push your body to the edge every single day. You deserve to have it taken care of.”
I melt.
I actually melt.
But then he steps behind me and starts to unzip my skirt.
And I freeze.
I can feel the heat in my cheeks already.
His fingers brush the skin of my back. He leans in. “Relax,” he murmurs. “This isn’t what you think.”
He slides the zipper the rest of the way down, fingers whispering over my skin.
Chapter 217: Penny
“I’m not touching you like that. Not right now.”
1 turn to look at him, curious.
He stares at me, jaw ticking.
“Because if I do…” His voice is lower now, rough. “If I see you fully naked, if I kiss you, if I even look at you too long this whole massage that’s t gonna happen. Not the way I planned it.”
That–that–goes straight to my belly.
Liquid heat coils deep and low.
But, I nod, obedient and breathless, and he turns his back.
I strip and slide under the covers.
“Okay,” I say, peeking out.
He turns around slowly.
His gaze sweeps down the shape of me under the blanket. He swears under his breath.
Then he walks to the side of the bed, warms oil between his palms, and sinks one knee beside me.
“Face down,” he says.
I obey.
His hands touch my shoulders.
I swear I could cry from how good it feels.
His palms are so big they span most of my back. He kneads, presses, works through every knot like he knows my body better than I do.
When he rolls his thumbs down the sides of my spine, I can’t help the sound that escapes me.
A soft moan.
He pauses.
“Princess…”
It’s a warning. A threat. A promise.
I grin into the pillow. “Sorry.”
He keeps going.
Neck. Shoulders. Arms. Lower back.
Every touch is reverent. Purposeful. Loving.
But when he gets to my legs-
Something changes.
He’s silent as he works the oil into my thighs. His hands are strong, sliding up, down, gripping, soothing, torturing. But I feel the tension in him now. The way his breath slows. The way his fingers pause just shy of where I need them.
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Chapter 217: Penny
I shift.
Open my legs just a little.
His hands stop.
Then he moves them back down, like nothing happened.
I do it again.
A little wider this time.
He exhales sharply through his nose. “Behave.”
But I don’t.
Because I don’t want to.
I want his hands higher.
I want his mouth.
I want all of him.
His thumbs press deep into my inner thighs now, working the muscles slowly.
He doesn’t stop me this time.
But I feel the tension crawling through him like a fuse.
And I know-
I’ve lit it..
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