18. Pen
18
PEN
T he roads are shit by the time Lake and I make it home, the snow coming down harder than they predicted, and while I’m no stranger to this weather, I’m thankful I wasn’t the one driving. The electricity zipping between us at dinner had been suspended for the time it took us to navigate the winding country roads, immediately starting to simmer again as soon as he threw the truck in park.
Tonight had been exactly what I needed.
No emails.
No rejection letters.
No dead-end leads.
“Race you inside?” I tease, his eyes sparkling when they meet mine.
“You’re on,” he says, as we both fling our doors open, but while he races to the porch, I go around the back of the truck, grabbing a handful of snow and packing it into a ball.
“Hey, Lake!”
He turns and even though I haven’t done this in a while, I grew up with the Sterling siblings, and snowball fights aren’t something you forget.
Winding up, I release the snowball and watch it fly, time slowing as it goes before exploding in a powdery haze on Lake’s chest.
“Oh, you want to play that game, do you,” he yells, and I squeal as he races toward me, both of us using the truck for cover and launching snowballs with varying levels of success.
My hands are frozen, my gloves for fashion and not function tonight as Lake stalks around the truck, but I can’t temper the smile spread wide across my face. My cheeks hurt from the cold and being unable to keep my happiness in check.
It’s glorious.
And there’s only one man I have to thank for that.
Doubling back, I hurry toward him instead of away. “Lake!” I yell before launching myself at him and crashing my mouth over his.
He catches me, his bare hand fisting in my hair as he stumbles back, my momentum and the slick driveway too much for him to keep us upright.
“Oh shit!” he yelps as his ass makes contact with the snowbank, an audible grunt following the impact.
“I’m not sorry,” I murmur against his lips as I rock myself against his lap, trying desperately to get closer.
“You’re not the one with snow down the back of your pants.” He pulls back, grinning like a madman. “Yet.”
I scream, jumping off him as I race to the door, his heavy footsteps sounding behind me. I don’t have the keys, and like a predator stalking his prey, he cages me against the wood, our breaths coming out in pants, mingling together in the cold.
“Hi,” I whisper, fisting my hands in the front of his jacket, my gaze moving from his eyes to his lips and back again.
“Hi.” He leans farther. “You come here often?”
“Lake?”
“Hmm?”
“Take me inside.”
Standing slowly, he searches my face, those three little words holding so much weight in this moment. And maybe it’s too soon but I don’t think so, not when my best friend is looking like he wants to devour me as much as he wants to hold me all through the night.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Keys are in my pocket.”
“Why don’t you get them?” I joke, already running my hand over the denim of his jeans, his erection hard and delicious against my palm.
“I want you to do it.”
“And?” I press, pulling out his keyring and dangling it from my finger.
“And I would have dropped it into the snow by now.” Lake’s cheeks pinken both from the admission and the cold, and it’s so damn cute I can’t help pressing a kiss to his lips before turning and easing the key into the lock.
Finally.