Chapter 41
HANNAH
Morning came faster than expected. I wake up, finding myself warm and sprawled out on my bed, a wool blanket covering most of my body. My stomach rumbles, demanding to be fed, and I come to my senses about what happened last night.
For starters, I never got dinner, skipping it altogether. My phone is nowhere in sight, and the smell of some type of cologne lingers on my sheets. I sniff, finding notes of cedar and cinnamon.
Noah.
Oh, it hits me harder than expected. His fingers inside me, the way his lips moved against mine, and heat bloomed in my chest, expanding out, my toes wiggling in appreciation.
That dark, unruly hair my fingers sank through effortlessly, tugging at the roots.
The noises he made whenever I sucked deeper on his cock, the size was quite enjoyable to look at.
How he calls me a good girl whenever I do something he’s pleased with.
I shoot up from my bed, finding myself getting aroused. “Gosh, Hannah, focus.”
He might have been right about needing a release, but how long will it last before he breaks through his mental block and we go right back to hating each other?
I can’t worry about that now. No, right now, he has to get better to perform at the event; otherwise, our efforts to save the resort will all have been for nothing.
Shit, I never peed. Forcing myself to the bathroom isn’t easy. I’m still groggy from my climax, but happy to admit that the release helped unwind some of the knots, not that I’ll ever admit it to him—no need to inflate his ego even more than it already is.
Relieving myself, I rub my eyes with the back of my hands to remove any lingering eye boogers, blink a few times, then wipe, flush, and check myself in the mirror.
A reddish spot catches my attention, and I move my shirt along my collarbone to find a medium-sized hickey.
My fingers trace its shape, not sure how or when he had time to make one.
But… I like it… I like knowing he’s leaving his mark. It makes it real and not some weird fantasy I conjured inside my head. A reminder that last night did happen and I’m not totally delusional.
I move around my cabin, tidying and freshening up, telling myself a shower after snowboarding is better than taking a second.
Next is to locate my stupid phone, digging my hands into the cushions of the couch, hoping it slipped through the cracks.
With no such luck, I mosey my way over to the bed, checking behind pillows, in between the table and mattress, when something buzzes inside the drawer.
Pulling it open, I see my phone sitting neatly tucked against miscellaneous items, a yellow sticky note stuck to the front of the screen. Crumpling up the paper, I tap the screen, finding an unknown number has texted me.
Unknown: Morning, Red.
Me: How did you get my number?
Unknown: Your bestie.
Maya.
Me: She doesn’t give it out to anyone. How did you coax it out of her?
I quickly add him as a contact, receiving a quick response.
Noah: Someone named Gift Card Dude ring any bells?
My mouth drops, laughter bubbling up my throat.
Me: I do know of this individual.
Noah: She no longer has that date with him.
How the hell did he pull that off? Maya must be skipping around, relieved to have dodged him yet again—the poor bastard.
My stomach yells, reminding me to hurry the hell up.
I type out a quick response and hit send, grab my gear, and head over to the halfpipe, wondering how Noah and I will act face-to-face after yesterday’s encounter.
Me: Bring me one of those granola bars.