Chapter 8
8
F rom somewhere beyond the balcony windows, the muffled sounds of winter stirred—a distant gust of wind, the soft rustling of tree branches, and the faint crunch of footsteps as early risers began their day. Grace had felt the stirrings of early morning coming to life, but she had refused to open her eyes as she took in this precious moment. The feeling of warm arms holding her was strange but comforting, and the warm scents of sandalwood, amber, and spices filled her lungs as she breathed in the crisp morning air.
Peeking her eyes open, she saw how the soft glow of early dawn seeped into the room, casting pale blue shadows along the edges of the bed. Frost clung to the windows in delicate patterns, catching the first hints of the blush-pink light of sunrise. This was the first time this week that she had woken up to the sunrise, and, more importantly, before Elara. She had gotten used to the cold bed being empty when she first opened her eyes. But now? Elara’s hand was softly holding her, resting just below her navel. Elara’s other arm was beneath her neck, holding Grace’s head close to her shoulder. Their legs were intertwined, as if in their sleep they couldn’t get close enough. She was surrounded, held close by Elara as if she were caged beneath her limbs.
Grace felt confusion bubbling up from her stomach. A week ago, she was terrified of Elara’s disapproval, worrying she was on the edge of losing her job. And now? That terrifying intensity that Elara always exuded had been turned on her. And she had liked it. A lot. She had relished the way Elara’s gaze had bored into her, pinning her in place and taking her breath away. She remembered the way that all coherent thought had eddied out of her brain the moment Elara’s hand had gripped her throat. Just thinking about last night had Grace’s skin prickling with the memory.
She couldn’t help but think What the hell am I doing? She could feel herself getting caught up in the enigma that was Elara, as if she were a puzzle that Grace was determined to piece together. But this wasn’t supposed to be real, was it? As much as she loved to brag about being a hopeless romantic, Grace had been burned in the past by falling too hard too fast. Up until last week, she thought Elara barely tolerated her presence. How could Elara possibly go from that to having genuine feelings?
The only answer Grace could think of made her heart squeeze and tears prick at her eyes. Elara couldn’t possibly have feelings for her; she probably didn’t even like her. This was just sex. That’s all it was. No matter how mind-blowing and intense the sex was, that’s all it could ever be. She needed to stop herself or she would end up planning their imagined future together by the end of the week. What she should do was figure out how to act as cold and calm as Elara always seemed to be.
Grace stewed in her emotions, oscillating back and forth between attraction and disappointment as she watched the first beams of sunlight begin to creep across the room. Eventually, Elara stirred, drawing Grace out of her spiral. Unable to stop herself, Grace turned to look at Elara and watched as Elara slowly blinked her stunning blue eyes, her features softer than Grace had ever seen. Elara slowly ran her hand up Grace’s back as she smiled, sharing a rare glimpse of the person beneath the mask. Grace felt herself smile in return as emotions swirled inside. How could she not feel happy in this quiet, vulnerable moment?
Giving in, Grace ran a hand up Elara’s arm. “Good morning.”
Elara’s piercing blue eyes roamed over her face and drifted down her body, pausing at the swell of her breasts peeking out from under the duvet. Tension crackled in the air as Elara’s eyes darkened, yet she still said nothing in return. Grace waited, unsure if she wanted Elara to speak or put her mouth to better use, but the longer she waited for words, the more disappointment began to cool her veins and harden her heart.
Grace couldn’t help but worry. What if she’s going to tell me this can’t happen again or some other bullshit excuse? Not wanting to hear the words that would break her heart, Grace twisted out of Elara’s grasp and got out of bed. She could feel Elara’s confusion in the way her hands had lingered until she could no longer reach. She wondered if she turned back she would see her own disappointment echoed in Elara’s eyes, but she couldn’t bring herself to find out. Instead, she strode across the room, naked as the day she was born, and disappeared into the bathroom.
Once there was a physical divider between them, the tension broke and turned Grace’s stomach sour. She was no stranger to hook-ups. Her college days had been a string of bad sex with men nearly every weekend until she had met Taylor. One look at her had made Grace’s heart flip, and she never looked back. Since she had begun dating women, she had instead found herself in relationship after relationship, and each time hurt more than the last. With men, she never worried about falling in love, but with women she couldn’t help but fall fast. That’s why she had sworn off dating for the last two years. She had wanted to figure out who she was on her own and fall in love with herself before she fell for someone else.
Grace turned on the hot water, wanting nothing more than to scrub her skin raw and feel the sting of the searing heat warm her inside out. She always did her best thinking in the shower, and she certainly had a lot to think about this morning. As she let the shower pelt her back, Grace slowly scrubbed as she thought about last night. Her soapy loofa followed the path that Elara’s mouth had trailed across her body, igniting the fire in her veins as she attempted to scrub away the feel of her lips on nipples. Her pussy began to pulse with heat as she recalled the feel of Elara’s tongue on her clit, sucking her labia, pushing deep inside of her. Elara had eaten her out like she was a starving woman and Grace was an all you can eat buffet. Grace had never experienced hunger like it. She had happily let Elara feast on her.
Grace slipped a finger inside herself, groaning and writhing in pleasure as she imagined it was Elara’s fingers back inside of her. She still was so wet. She still felt so utterly turned on from what Elara had done to her body last night.
Before she knew it, she was using two fingers to fuck herself and she felt herself heating right up. The moment came right back into her mind of the way Elara’s blue eyes had darkened and looked at her with a hunger beyond words. Then Elara devouring her pussy with her mouth and the mere memory of it tipped her right over the edge.
She moaned as she came, the water dripping down her face and over her body as she cried out in pleasure.
Grace cursed as she realized she had failed spectacularly at scrubbing Elara from her mind. All she could think was, I’m so fucked.
When Grace made her way out of the bathroom, she was surprised to find the suite empty, Elara nowhere in sight. For reasons she did not want to think about, her stomach dropped and her throat closed in disappointment. Not wanting to cry, Grace shook her head and quietly chanted. It’s not real. It’s all a sham. It’s all pretend.
She was nearly done getting ready for the day when Elara burst through the front door, a brown bag in one hand and a paper coffee cup in the other. But that’s not what Grace's eyes saw first. No. She stared open-mouthed at Elara in another matching workout set, sweat dripping down her flat stomach. She watched intently as one bead of sweat trailed down from beneath her sports bra and made its way to the band of her low-cut leggings. She knew Elara was saying something to her, but all she could hear was the blood rushing to her head.
Finally, Elara coughed, and said, “Grace? Everything okay?”
Grace blushed, her ears burning as she said, “Hmm? What was that?”
Elara’s smile turned wolfish as she stepped closer, the salty smell of her sweat mingling with that intoxicatingly spicy, woodsy scent, making Grace’s head spin. Up close, Elara was a full head taller than her, forcing her to crane her neck to look up.
“I said, I hope I didn’t make you wait too long.”
Grace swallowed, trying to force her thoughts into a less sweaty and heated direction, as she replied huskily, “Not at all.”
Unable to take the intensity of the eye contact any longer, she looked back down and finally noticed the cappuccino in Elara’s hand. She reached out to grab it, their fingers touching. “I hope that’s for me.”
Grace took the cup and drank deeply, wanting to do anything that would stop her from dragging Elara back into the bedroom. Elara’s eyes darkened as she watched Grace, yet she did not reach out to touch her. Nor did she say anything. Grace carefully kept eye contact as she continued to drink from the paper cup, waiting for Elara to speak. When she realized that no words would be spoken, she grabbed the bag from Elara’s other hand and walked away.
Still, Elara said nothing as she watched Grace move over to the chair next to the counter. That counter, Grace realized. She felt her heart race as she opened the bag and pulled out the contents: a bagel sandwich and a muffin. She knew the muffin was probably meant for her, but she was feeling spiteful. Wanting to egg Elara on to speak, to say something…anything, Grace leaned against the counter and watched Elara as she bit into the sandwich. Elara stood, rooted to the spot, as she watched Grace chew slowly, her eyes locked onto Grace’s lips. She could feel the heat radiating off her from across the room. Her heart flipped as heat began to pool at her core. She wanted Elara to react, to say something, or to cross the room and kiss her again. Either way, she wanted to see that cold mask crack.
Instead, Elara took a long deep breath and simply said, “We’ll be outdoors again. You should probably change.” She turned away, slamming the bathroom door behind her.
Grace sighed in disappointment, not sure which she wanted more: the conversation or the passion.
Grace stared at the closed bathroom door, her pulse still pounding in her ears. “Outdoors, right,” she muttered, licking the last bit of bagel from her lips, both annoyed and exhilarated by Elara’s infuriating calm. As if changing clothes could somehow douse the heat simmering between them.
She pushed off the counter and shuffled back to the bedroom, still clutching the coffee cup. The thought of layering herself in fleece and thermal leggings felt like a punishment after Elara’s skin-on-display morning entrance.
Fifteen minutes later, Grace emerged, bundled in too many layers of fine wool and cashmere. As she shuffled toward the front door, Elara reappeared, now wrapped in sleek black winter gear, looking like a walking advertisement for designer adventurewear. Her hood was down, revealing her pin-straight, perfectly styled black hair streaked with silver glinting in the soft light.
“Ready?” Elara asked, as if nothing at all had transpired between them five minutes ago.
Grace gave a tight nod, unwilling to let the butterflies in her stomach show. “As I’ll ever be.”
When they stepped outside, the crisp air hit Grace’s face like a splash of ice water, dragging her back into reality. The crunch of snow underfoot echoed softly in the morning stillness, broken only by the sound of distant laughter and footsteps as the rest of Elara’s family gathered near the trailhead.
Victor stood at the front of the group, adjusting the strap on his trekking poles, while Margaret fussed with the scarf around her neck. James and Cate were already joking with one another, their boots kicking up puffs of powder as they exchanged playful shoves. Elara’s grandmother, Eleanor, leaned heavily on a silver cane, a knowing smile curling her lips as she spotted Grace approach.
“Well, look at you two,” Eleanor said warmly, though her sharp gaze pinned Grace like a butterfly in a glass case. “Matching couples on an adventure—how delightful.”
Grace smiled and waved cheerfully as she greeted Grandma Elle. Right. Time to play pretend.
She stole a glance at Elara, hoping to find some hint at her feelings, but Elara’s face was impassive, already settling back into her cold, controlled exterior.
“Let’s head out,” Elara said briskly, adjusting her gloves as if they were weapons, then gestured to the group to begin their trek.
Grace fell into step beside her, and whispered, “Promise you won’t let me fall to my death or get buried in snow?”
Elara’s lips twitched as she looked at Grace from the corner of her eye, replying lowly, “I’ve got you.”
Grace giggled and blushed, hoping that the redness looked like nothing more than flush from the cold. As they reached the snow-covered trailhead, Grace tugged her hood down further and blew into her gloves to warm her fingers. The sky was a brilliant, cloudless blue, and the morning light reflected off the snow, making everything seem too bright, too sharp. She squinted against the glare.
“Stick close,” Elara murmured quietly as they fell in line behind Victor and Margaret.
Grace blinked up at her, surprised by the unexpected softness in her voice. “You mean emotionally or, like, physically?”
A flicker of a smile touched Elara’s lips—a moment so brief, Grace almost missed it. “Both,” Elara replied, her voice low and quiet enough that no one else could hear.
And just like that, the tension between them stretched thin again, taut and humming beneath the surface, waiting to snap.
The group shuffled forward, their snowshoes crunching against the frozen ground. Grace took a breath, filling her lungs with the cold air, hoping it would cool the heat that hadn’t left her since Elara walked through the door that morning. But as Elara moved gracefully ahead, her dark hair catching the sunlight like a glimmering thread, Grace knew it was going to be a very long hike.
Grace huffed as she made her way up the hill, glaring at Eleanor’s back in amazement. How was it possible that an old woman with a cane was leaving her in the dust? Grace muttered under her breath, cursing as she tried to widen her stride and gain ground.
As they crested the hill, Grace sighed in amazement at the stunning view before her. An extravagant table had been set with picnic baskets and thermoses that were sure to be filled with some warm concoction that would put to shame her packets of hot cocoa back at home. The long wooden table seemed to have grown out of the earth, blending in with the snow-dusted trees. The deep blue waters of the lake were eerily calm, shimmering with sunlight and the reflection of the clouds above. The lake’s shoreline was dappled with large granite boulders and empty piers, now coated in the soft white blanket of snow.
Grace had not yet approached the table, watching everyone sit as the waiters began to pour steaming cups of hot cocoa. She turned to look out at the vista and wondered if any of the Silver family still felt awe at such beautiful scenery.
She could feel Elara’s presence behind her as Elara whispered in her ear, “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
Grace felt chills run down her spine that had nothing to do with the cold mountain air. She couldn’t help but recall the way Elara had looked when she called her beautiful. Looking just over her shoulder, she locked eyes with Elara, and could see the same heat reflected back at her. Unable to resist the pull between them, Grace turned so that they were toe to toe and looked up into Elara’s eyes.
“It’s stunning,” she whispered and then slipped her arms around Elara’s waist, pulling her into a hug. She felt the stiffness in Elara’s spine slowly melt as she wrapped her arms around Grace in turn. She tucked her head against Elara’s chest. “Thank you.”
Elara stiffened briefly before resting her cheek on Grace’s head, her hands lightly bunching the fabric at the small of her back. The two held each other for a moment until Elara slowly pulled back. “Let’s go eat.”