Chapter 37 Bash
Chapter thirty-seven
Bash
I'm flying down the mountain, the familiar rush of adrenaline coursing through my veins as the wind blows past. But this time, there's something different—a flash of auburn hair whips ahead of me, moving with unexpected speed. I hear her laugh.
It's our last full day in Aspen, and we've all decided to spend it on the slopes. Emily is somewhere behind me, and I hear her yell "CHEATER!" as if Charlie could cheat by simply being faster than her sister. But that's just my girl being a fucking beast at something she loves doing.
I kick up and race after her, leaning forward to gain momentum, feeling that perfect edge of control and chaos that I've chased my entire life.
"NOT YOU TOO!" Emily's indignant cry echoes behind me, and I can't help laughing as I weave through the powder.
Charlie's silhouette grows larger as I close the distance. She's slowed down significantly, already celebrating what she thinks is her victory. Nope, sorry Shortcake, if you want to win against me, you have to earn it all the way to the finish line.
I whip past her and come sliding to a stop at the bottom of the run, spraying snow in a perfect arc around me. Charlie's hands shoot up in surprise. The look on her face is a mixture of shock, outrage, and reluctant admiration and is worth every second of the chase.
She slides to a stop, pops off her skis with surprising efficiency, and then charges me like a tiny, determined avalanche.
I half have an idea what she's going to do a millisecond before she does it, so I catch her mid-launch and deliberately fall backwards into the snow, cushioning her fall with my body.
We both dissolve into laughter as I feel the snow working its way into my gear, cold and wet against my neck. I don't care though. Charlie's face is inches from mine, her cheeks flushed from exertion and cold,
She kisses me, quick but firm. "Fine, you won... again."
She's still on top of me when Emily comes around the bend, expertly stopping beside our tangled heap in the snow.
"Get a room, you two," she says with an exaggerated eye roll before skiing off toward the lodge.
Charlie looks down at me with that dangerous glint in her eye that I've come to recognize—and crave. "Well, if you would have let me win, that's exactly what we would have been doing right now."
I push up on my elbows, bringing our faces closer together. "You know what? I cheated. I should be disqualified." I brush a strand of hair from her face. "You won fair and square Shortcake."
We laugh again, the sound carrying across the bright white landscape, and it strikes me that I've laughed more in the past week than I have in years.
I pop out of my board, and without exchanging a single word, we both have the same thought as we gather our equipment and head toward the rental barn.
The walk is quick, our steps hurried with unspoken anticipation.
We drop off our gear, and Charlie is practically bouncing with impatience as the attendant methodically processes our return.
Her hand finds mine, her fingers intertwining and her thumb rubbing circles on my palm that sends heat straight through me.
"Looks like you had a good day out there," the rental attendant says, eyeing our flushed faces and snow-dampened clothes.
"The best," Charlie answers, squeezing my hand.
I squeeze back.
The rental attendant hands us our receipt, oblivious to the current beneath our casual words. "Well, enjoy the rest of your stay in Aspen."
"Thank you." Charlie says with perfect fake innocence.
We practically sprint back to the house, half-running, half-sliding through the fresh snow. The property is blissfully quiet when we arrive—everyone else must still be out enjoying their final day on the mountain.
Inside the mudroom, we shed our outer layers with frantic energy, boots and jackets and gloves falling to the floor. I pull Charlie against me the moment she's down to her base layers, her body warm and pliant against mine.
"So I won?" she asks between kisses, her fingers already working at the zipper of my thermal.
"Absolutely," I mutter against her neck. "I think you deserve a prize."
"I have some ideas about that." She pulls back just enough to look me in the eyes, her expression shifting from playful to intense. "But upstairs. I'm not risking my sister walking in on us again."
"Smart woman." I bend and lift her in one smooth motion, her legs wrapping around my waist as I carry her through the house and up the stairs.
I set her down gently on the bed, but she immediately pulls me down with her, her kisses turning urgent.
"I can't believe we leave tomorrow," she says between breaths, her hands slipping under my shirt to trace the muscles of my back.
"Don't think about that now," I say, even though the thought has been lingering at the edges of my mind all day. Tomorrow it’s back to reality, back to work next week, back to separate living spaces and schedules and responsibilities. But not back to pretending. Never that again.
I strip off her thermal, then mine, reveling in the feel of skin against skin. Every touch between us feels electric, charged with the knowledge that this—us—is real. Not a convenient arrangement, not a show for others, but something we've chosen, something we're building.
"I love you," I tell her, because I can now. Because the words no longer feel like a risk but a certainty.
Her eyes soften, and she reaches up to trace my jawline with gentle fingers. "I love you too. Even when you 'cheat' at races."
"I think we've already established that you won," I remind her, pressing a line of kisses down her throat.
"Then I'm claiming my prize." She flips us suddenly, straddling my hips, her hair falling around us like a curtain. "And I want to take my time with you, Mountain King."
I laugh, the sound rumbling deep in my chest. "I knew I'd get you to call me that eventually," I say, unable to keep the triumph from my voice.
"Shut up," she says, trying hard to contain her laugh.
I reach up, tangling my fingers in her hair and pull her down to me. The kiss starts slow but builds quickly, heat spreading through my body as her lips part against mine. Her tongue slides in, and I feel the moan she lets out vibrate through me, the sound shooting straight to my core.
"Turn around," I whisper against her mouth, my voice rough with desire. Her eyes widen slightly, pupils dilated as she searches my face. I run my hands down her sides, over the curve of her hips. "Trust me, Shortcake."
Her breath hitches as she shifts and lays her backside flat against me. My hands glide up her sides, memorizing every curve I’ve come to worship.
She arches into my touch as I palm her breasts, thumbs brushing over taut nipples. “You’re…distracting me,” she breathes, but her hips roll backward anyway, seeking friction against the hard line of my arousal.
“Good.”
My right-hand trails lower, skating across the quiver of her stomach. She tenses, not in resistance, but anticipation. I smirk into the curve of her neck.
Always so responsive.
When my fingers finally brush her clit, her gasp is sharp.
“Spread for me, Shortcake.”
Her legs fall open without hesitation, and I groan at the slick heat already gathering there. I circle slowly, teasing, I can feel her gripping the sheets underneath us. Her head lolls back against my shoulder, exposing the delicate column of her throat.
“Bash—”
“I’ve got you.” My left hand abandons her breast to cradle her jaw, fingers splaying possessively along her neck. Not squeezing—claiming. Her pulse ramps up beneath my palm.
Her head tilts toward mine. I watch her lips part. My fingers continue to work and Christ, the way she whimpers…
“C’mon, Shortcake.” My teeth graze the shell of her ear, her pulse wild where my other hand still brackets her throat. Her hips jerk, chasing the rhythm I’m building, sheets tightening beneath her fists. “Let me hear it.”
She fractures beautifully. A choked cry rips from her chest, back arching like a bowstring drawn too tight.
I ease the pressure just enough to savor the tremors wracking her thighs.
Her breath comes in jagged bursts. Her hand flies up to my head and her fingers scramble in my hair as she fists it in her hands.
“There she is,” I murmur against her temple, slowing my touch as she shudders. Pride burns through me sharper than any medal I’ve ever won. Olympic gold never tasted half as sweet as Charlie does when she's coming undone.
Her laugh turns breathless as she collapses against my chest again, fully sated. "Okay," she pants, releasing my hair and bringing her hands back down to our sides. "I need to admit something."
Her fingers drift up to brush the spot where my hand had cradled her throat moments ago.
"I didn't think I'd like the whole..." She mimics the pressure with her own hand, thumb pressing gently below her jawline. "Possessive neck-holding thing." A blush blooms across her cheeks even as she grins. "Turns out I was very, very wrong."
Heat coils low in my gut. I roll us sideways, propping myself up on one elbow to better watch her face. "Noted." My free hand skates down her side, reveling in the way her breath hitches. "Anything else you'd like to confess, Shortcake?"
She bites her lip—that fucking lip—before meeting my gaze head-on. "Just that you should probably—"
I cut her off with a kiss, swallowing her gasp as I flip her onto her stomach in one smooth motion. Her surprised laughter vibrates against the mattress as I settle behind her, knees bracketing her thighs.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm not done with you yet," I say, relishing the full-body shiver my statement elicits.
Her fingers clutch at the sheets as I drag her hips back against me. "Oh, really?" She breathes.
I nip at her shoulder. "I will never have my fill of you."
The condom wrapper I lean over and snag from the top of the night-stand tears louder than I intend. Charlie snorts. "Subtle."
"Subtlety's overrated." I sheathe myself with practiced efficiency, hands sliding down her sides to palm her breasts again. Her back arches into the touch, a wordless plea I'm all too happy to answer.
When I push into her, it's slow, agonizingly slow. Her choked moan reverberates through the room as she presses her forehead into the mattress. "Bash—"
I brace one hand beside her head, the other gripping her hip hard enough to leave marks.
The first thrust punches a gasp from both of us. Her fingers scramble for purchase, finally fisting in the pillow above her head. I set a relentless pace, each snap of my hips designed to chase that broken sound she makes when I hit just right.
Her hair sticks to her neck in damp tendrils. I brush it aside with my free hand, exposing the flushed skin beneath. My tongue finds her skin and I lick. Tasting. Claiming.
"Look at you," I rasp against her sweat-slick skin. "Fucking perfect."
She makes a noise halfway between a laugh and a sob. "Ego... stroking... later—"
I chuckle darkly, angling deeper. Her next words dissolve into a cry that I feel in my fucking throat. The headboard knocks a staccato rhythm against the wall, but all I care about is the way her muscles are clenching around me, the desperate pitch of her breathing.
"Come on," I urge. "Let me feel you."
She listens immediately and lifts her ass higher and pushes back into me further, accentuating the perfect curve of her back.
Her breath comes in broken gasps against the pillow.
I withdraw nearly all the way, just to watch her chase the loss, before plunging back in slow, making every inch count.
The way she opens for me, pressed back against me with her spine curved just right, sends a possessive thrill down to my bones.
I lean in, my mouth finding that sweet spot behind her ear that always makes her shiver. Teeth graze skin before soothing with my tongue, my voice roughened with want: "You feel so damn good, Shortcake. Taking me like this."
Her whimper is half-protest, her hands scrambling in between hers to grip my inner thighs. "Don’t—don’t tease me," she manages, words fractured.
"I'm not," I promise, though my next thrust is deliberately measured. "I just want to remember every second."
She makes an impatient noise low in her throat and shoves down against me, and fuck if that isn’t the sexiest thing. She's done with patience, taking what she wants. So, I give it to her. My rhythm fractures and becomes primal. My hips pistoning hard enough the mattress protests beneath us.
Feeling her seek her own pleasure, her fingers working between her legs while the other hand cups my balls—Christ. "Oh fuck," I choke out, "Charlie, I—"
Words dissolve when she meets me stroke for stroke, hips bucking in frantic sync. She tenses suddenly, her cry sharp against the pillows. "Yes, yes, yes—"
I follow her over the edge seconds later, my own release tearing through me like wildfire. We collapse in a tangle of limbs, hearts hammering against each other’s skin, the only sound filling the room is our ragged breathing.
Discarding the condom, I pull her into my arms. She snuggles against my side, her head finding the perfect spot on my shoulder.
"Fuck—" She leave the word hanging.
"You are amazing," I supply, brushing her hair back from her face.
She smiles, her eyes closing in contentment. "Aren't you glad I won our bet?"
I laugh, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Absolutely I am."
We lie there in comfortable silence for a few moments, allowing our hearts to slow. I trail lazy patterns on her back, enjoying the feel of her skin against mine.
Her fingers trace idle patterns across my sternum. "So. The neck thing." I feel her smirk against my skin.
I grin up at the ceiling. "The neck thing."
"Just so we're clear..." She props herself up on one elbow, eyes gleaming with mischief despite her thoroughly fucked appearance. "I'm still the reigning champion of this mountain."
I capture her wandering hand, pressing a kiss to her palm. "Keep telling yourself that, Shortcake."