Chapter 6
ROWAN
It does get a bit warmer, or maybe my body heat is rising in response to being so close to Damon.
Despite the wide armrest between us, there’s an intimacy to being back here with the privacy screen closed.
The back of the car has privacy glass in the windows.
We can see out, but it’s next to impossible to see in.
Not that anyone will be casually wandering past the car in a snowstorm.
Hopefully, there aren’t even any sheep out in this storm.
“We should try and sleep,” Damon suggests.
I want to do a lot of things right now, sleeping isn’t one of them. “Nah. Talking is more fun.”
He raises his eyebrows. “To me?”
I giggle. “Yes, to you. There isn’t anyone else in the car. Except maybe my imaginary friend.”
“You have an imaginary friend?”
I laugh harder. “No! I’m screwing with you.” I’d like him to screw me. But I’m guessing that Damon is a professional, so any fooling around is firmly off the menu, even if it would help keep us warm. “Why wouldn’t I find talking to you fun?”
“I’m known for being serious.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
He shrugs.
“Serious is sexy.” I said that out loud, didn’t I? Oh well, I can’t take it back, and I’ve already told him the cold has turned my brain-to-mouth filter off.
He widens his eyes.
“Plus, you’ve had a lot dumped on your plate the last couple of days. You’re allowed to be a little surly.” I speak in a breezy tone, as if my previous statement wasn’t important, even though I meant it. His brand of serious is sexy.
“And now we’re stuck here.”
“Yeah, but look on the bright side: you didn’t want to go to the ball anyway, and you’ve got me for company.” I grin and then shiver as the cold seeps into my bones again.
He pushes the blanket aside and takes off his jumper.
“What are you doing?”
He passes me the jumper. “Wear it.” It’s a command, not a suggestion.
This time, I shiver for all the right reasons. “I can’t. It’s yours.”
He narrows his eyes. “Wear it.”
I take the jumper and put it on, wishing he’d added ‘boy’ to the end of the sentence.
It would have been the chef’s kiss on top of his authoritative tone.
“Thank you.” I bite my tongue so ‘Daddy’ doesn’t accidentally slip out.
Although, would it be a bad thing? Really?
He must know I’m attracted to him by now.
The jumper helps a lot. It’s warm, snuggly, and smells of the slightly spicy aftershave Damon uses. And, because he’s bigger than me, it has baggy ‘boyfriend jumper’ vibes. I pull the sleeves over my hands to help keep them warm, even though what I really want to do is warm them up on his body.
“You’re good company,” he says in a softer voice.
Heat rises to my cheeks. How red has my face gone? Is the shade clashing with my hair?
“For what it’s worth, I’d much rather be stuck in a car with you than your brother.” Why did I say that?
He smiles, which is a rare but beautiful sight. “He’s less grumpy than I am.”
“Maybe, but he’s not you.” I suck in a breath. I might as well have held up a neon sign screaming ‘I fancy you’.
His pupils shrink, and he parts his lips a fraction.
I pull the blanket higher, so it’s covering the bottom half of my face.
“Are you still cold?”
“Yes.”
“I wish I could do more to keep you warm.”
You can. You could hold me, then we could share our body heat.
“It’s not your fault we’re stuck here,” I say.
“It’s not yours, either.”
“It’s the last time I trust a weather report.”
He chuckles. “They did get it rather wrong, didn’t they?”
“Just a tad.”
He glances out the window. “It’s still snowing.”
He’s right. The snow is coming down as thick and fast as ever. It’s as if Mother Nature has decided to dump a decade’s worth of snow on us in one night.
“At least we’re trapped in a comfortable, roomy car,” I say.
“If only we had more blankets.”
“You can’t have everything.”
“Are you always a cup-half-full kind of guy?”
“Yup. Positivity is my middle name.”
He raises an eyebrow incredulously.
“All right, it’s not, but it might as well be.” I shiver again.
Concern flickers through his eyes and across his face, coupled with frustration.
Is he thinking about ways we could keep warm while remaining professional?
It would fit with everything I know about him.
How can I tell him I don’t care about being professional?
I don’t care that he’s my sort-of boss. I just want him to put his arms around me and a whole lot more besides.
“It’s so cold,” I whisper, staring directly into his eyes. I hope mine are begging him to hold me, take care of me, and keep me warm.
“I wouldn’t want you getting so cold you get sick.”
“That would make for a miserable Christmas.” I keep my voice light and playful, my stare locked with his.
“That wouldn’t do.” His voice has become deeper. Huskier.
I’m sure our thoughts are careening in the same direction. Cuddling is the obvious solution. The only solution.
“We need to stay warm,” he says.
“We do, but how are we going to do that?”
Conflict plays across his face.
“Would it help if we agreed that what happens in the car, stays in the car?” I ask. “And that staying warm is the most important thing right now.”
He swallows. “I’m getting the impression you’re a bit of a brat.”
I raise my eyebrows and bat my lashes innocently. “Me?”
“Yes. A bratty boy.”
I’m a complete goner. “Boy, yes. Brat? Sometimes. I like to think of myself as playful rather than bratty.” I rake my teeth over my lower lip. “Do you like bratty boys?”
He half smiles. “Sometimes. As long as they’re not too bratty.”
“You’re a Daddy then?” My voice comes out as an excited, slightly squeaky whisper.
“We shouldn’t be talking about this.”
“But we are. Are you a Daddy?”
“Yes.”
As if it wasn’t obvious.
“And Daddies take care of boys.”
“They keep them safe,” he agrees.
“And warm?”
“And warm.” He pushes the blanket aside and beckons me to him.
I climb over the armrest and onto his lap, huddling against his chest as he wraps the blanket over us.
“Better?” he asks.
“Much better.” I tilt my head so I can see his face. “What took you so long?”
He rubs my back to add to the warmth his body is already giving me. “It’s unprofessional.”
“I’d rather be warm than professional.”
“I realised that a while ago, but I’m the boss.”
I chuckle. “Yes, you are.”
“So I should be maintaining the professional line between us.”
“I don’t want you to.” I stroke his jaw. “I want you to take care of me while we’re stuck here.” And beyond, but I’m not going to get ahead of myself.
“Be your temporary Daddy?”
The word ‘temporary’ stings a little, but I don’t let it show. “Yes. My Snow Daddy.”
He laughs. “Snow Daddy?”
“Scrooge Daddy?” I suggest.
He puts on a grumpy expression.
“So sexy.” Damn, I want to kiss him.
I focus my stare on his thick lips and the stern cut of his jaw.
Then I look into his dark eyes again, trembling as I realise how much I want him.
Here. Now. In this car. In the middle of a snowstorm.
I’ve fancied this man since the day I first laid eyes on him, and now I’m on his lap, his arms around me, the cold almost forgotten as heat radiates from him.
His stare searches mine. What is he looking for? Permission? I’ll give it to him in spades.
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he says.
“What? Keeping warm? I’d say that’s a necessity, wouldn’t you?”
“Keeping warm is, but I think we’re going to do more than that.”
I waggle my eyebrows. “I sure hope so.”
“That’s what you want?” He strokes my floppy hair away from my forehead, tucking it behind my ear for half a second before it falls forward again.
“Yes, Daddy. I’ve wanted something to happen between us for a long time.”
“You have?”
“Yes. You’re gorgeous.”
“So are you.”
My cheeks become warm. “Kiss me, Daddy. Please?”
He half-closes his eyes, leans close so I can feel his warm, minty breath on my face, and then presses his lips to mine.
He kisses me tentatively at first, but the moment I part my lips, he presses into it harder, slipping his tongue into my mouth.
I hum as I suck on it, kissing him with all the desire I’ve kept bottled up for him since I met him and he first made my pulse race.
I change position, so I’m straddling his thighs.
He grips my hips, holding me tight. I run my fingers through his short, dark hair.
It’s slightly sticky from gel, which gives his hair a wet look.
The kiss ends. A giddy giggle breaks free of me.
I rest my forehead against his, breathing hard.
I lick my lips, tasting the remains of his saliva.
My heart is galloping. My gut is quivering.
Sparks of electricity zing over my hips where he’s lazily stroking me.
I wish there weren’t two shirts, a jacket, and a jumper between his hands and my skin.
“Warmer?” he asks.
“A little. Not warm enough.”
“What are we going to do about that?”
“More kissing?”
He smiles, lighting up his eyes. “You’re sure?”
“Yes, Daddy. I’m sure.”
He tugs me close, my chest pressed to his, and then seals his lips over mine once more.