Chapter 36
THIRTY-SIX
QUINN
Somehow, I’ve made it through my last full day in Alaska without moping.
The schedule was the same as it’d been the entire time here.
Woke up at the ass crack of dawn, the four of us piling into Mr. Nord’s SUV, and I worked remotely while August and his dad baked under his mother’s watchful guidance.
The early mornings and busy days aren’t what has me scowling out the window. No, what I’m unhappy about is that I’m no longer going to be a member of the routine. Tomorrow, I fly back to Phoenix.
Alone.
He’s not staying here forever, I silently tell myself. Or maybe I’m begging the gods for this to be true.
Either way, I do my best to believe that August hasn’t fallen back in love with Alaska. That he’ll still want to return to me in my desert hometown.
At the sound of heavy footsteps coming down the hall, I smooth all indications of discontent off my face, refocusing on rummaging through my suitcase for some clothes to sleep in. The baggage is a jumbled mess I’ll have to put in order before heading out tomorrow.
August steps through the door, smiling when he sees me crouching on the floor. Am I imagining things, or did the happiness falter when his gaze passed over my suitcase?
Probably just seeing what I want to see.
“How do you feel about a bath?” he asks.
“A bath?” The question catches me off guard, and I move to stand. “Are you saying I need one?” Self-consciously, I tilt my chin down to attempt a subtle sniff of my armpit. From the crinkle of his eyes, I’m guessing my nonchalant gesture wasn’t as smooth as I hoped.
“I need one.” August steps farther into the room, coming to lay his hands on my waist. “And I need to feel your naked body against mine in a safe space.”
A gasp accompanies the heat unfurling under my skin. Sucking in a bracing breath, I hold the fire back.
“You’re suggesting a two-person bath?”
August nods before resting his chin on the top of my head.
“Mom and Dad have moved their stuff to the downstairs bedroom until she’s on her feet again. We have this whole floor to ourselves.”
Privacy. A bath with August. Him holding me, touching me intimately.
Suddenly, I’m desperate for the idea to be a reality. When I leave tomorrow, I don’t know when I’ll see him again. I don’t know if I’ll get to keep him.
“Well then, to answer your original question, I feel very good about a bath.”
August steps back, but not before reaching down to give my butt a firm pat. “Follow me.” He’s grinning like a naughty teenager, which sends excitement flaring through my body.
As I follow him out of the room and down the hall, I can’t help but think back to the day we arrived, when August admitted he never jerked off in his own home during high school.
Not a subject I thought I’d ever care about, but here I am, wishing I could travel back in time and give that sexually frustrated teenager a hug.
Tonight though, he’s the one with control, and I’m the one taking a risk. Still, I trust him.
The Nords have one of those luxurious claw-foot tubs in the upstairs bathroom. August sits on the edge, fiddling with the faucet.
“Only turn on the cold,” I remind him.
He raises an eyebrow at me. “You sure?”
The idea of me needing a warm bath is laughable. Stepping up to him, I rest my hands on his shoulders, then slowly drag them down his front, enjoying the delicious ridges of his muscles underneath the cotton.
“Oh, yeah,” I murmur, my fiery pulse picking up strength. “I’m sure.”
“Take your clothes off.” August’s demand comes out hoarse, which only gets me hotter.
With intentionally slow movements, I tug off my blouse, letting the material flutter to the floor.
Next, I untie the little bow that holds up my linen shorts.
Maybe others would find the Alaskan summer still too chilly to opt for sleeveless shirts and nothing covering their legs.
But I have my never-extinguishing internal fire, plus the constant fuel that is August.
I could’ve walked around in a bikini and been perfectly comfortable.
Now, standing in the middle of the bathroom, wearing only my silky red underthings, I give in to the urge to shiver. But not because I’m cold.
Hopefully I will be though.
“Oh no,” I murmur, my hands coming to my cheeks, as if I’ve realized something disappointing.
When I meet August’s eyes, his brow crinkles in concern, and he stands from the tub, approaching me with arms out. Preparing to comfort me. Because that’s the amazing guy he is. Doesn’t matter that he has a very clear oak tree in his pants. He’s ready to set his lust aside if need be.
“What is it?” His grip comes to my shoulders, and I notice thin webs of ice have scattered over his forearms.
“It’s only …” I stare up at him, making my eyes as wide and innocent as possible, even affecting a pouty lower lip. “I’ve forgotten how to take off my bra and panties.” I clasp my hands under my chin, pleading with him by batting my eyelashes. “Do you think you could help me, kind sir?”
A trickle of cold air traces down the front of my body, like I’m getting felt up by Jack Frost.
August’s forehead drops to mine, and his eyes close shut. “You’re going to kill me,” he mutters.
“I would never.” My fingers circle his wrists, drawing his hands down to my chest. “I need you alive and well so you can touch me.”
And he does, his thumbs tracing over my nipples through the material of my bra.
Heat pulses in time with his caresses, and I breathe in deep to maintain control.
Okay, my bad. This sexy time needs to be relocated. Now.
Grasping the bottom of his shirt, I pull the cotton barrier upward, forcing him to drop his touch and step away from me. Still, I maintain a hold on his shirt, and when it’s off his head, I press the fabric to my face.
There’s a trace of some piney soap and a hint of garlic from the pasta we had for dinner. Determined, I suck in an even deeper lungful. But it’s the same as the first breath.
Now I’m pouting for real, even though I know it’s juvenile. In fact, I’m so disappointed, and I’m mortified to realize there’s something like tears pushing at the back of my eyes.
Goddess, what is wrong with me?
August has just finished pulling down his zipper when he picks up on my mood shift. “Quinn?”
I try for a sultry smile. It comes out flat, and August is back in my space.
“Are you teasing me again, or is something really upsetting you?”
Shaking my head, I push at the nagging thought. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it. Get naked.”
August snorts, a finger going under my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. “I’m not taking my pants off until you tell me what’s wrong.”
Damn it. Damn him and his observant, caring nature.
“It’s ridiculous,” I say.
His thumb traces my bottom lip. “Let me be the judge.”
With a sigh, I relent. “You don’t smell like waffle cones anymore.”
And, gods, do I miss that smell. The scent I now so thoroughly associate with August. August in Phoenix.
The Ice Elemental grins down at me. “That makes you sad?”
“That you no longer smell like the most delicious, sweet dough in the world? Yeah, I’m a little bummed.”
“Well”—his touch falls away—“I can’t have my woman upset.” He moves to leave.
“Where are you going?”
“I’ll be right back.”
“You’re going downstairs like that?” Looking like the centerfold of my personalized porn magazine?
August pauses in the doorway and takes a second to re-zip his pants. “Better?”
“Define better.”
The man disappears, leaving the echo of a chuckle in his place.
Feeling lost, I glance over to the tub and realize the thing is almost full. With a quick turn of the faucet, the steady stream trickles off.
Dipping my fingers into the water, I instinctively know the temperature is cold. A little logical sliver in the back of my mind tells me others would shy away from the idea of fully immersing their naked body in a bath this temperature. But to me, it merely feels lukewarm.
Heavy footsteps in the hall herald August’s return. He comes into the bathroom, clutching a Tupperware container.
“Mom always has a few of these on hand in case she’s craving ice cream.”
He pops off the lid, and a familiar scent teases my nose.
“Are those …”
August passes the container to me. “Waffle cones.”
This is one of the most innocent—yet, at the same time, most erotic—gifts I’ve ever received. I’m not sure what I even want to do with them. Rub them all over August’s body until the smell melds with his cells? Or maybe I could crumble them on his chest and lick the broken pieces off?
That might get too messy.
Instead, I pluck one out and bite into the crisp treat.
Crunchy and buttery and sweet like syrup.
Once I swallow, I smile at my man. “While I eat this, I want you to take your clothes off. Slowly.”
August smirks, even as the temperature in the bathroom drops. “I’m starting to think you only want me for my ice cream.”
“I want you for a lot more than that.”
My Viking ice cream god’s cheeks go ruddy, and I love the bashful expression on his handsome face.
Then his hands return to the fly of his pants, and I can’t focus anywhere else.
He follows my directions, every movement of his a slow tease.
Hungry for him, I take another massive bite out of my waffle cone, pairing the sweet flavor on my tongue with the hot scene before my eyes.
August isn’t wearing skinny jeans, but his thighs and calves are so muscular that he needs to give his pants an extra push to get them to fall to the ground. When he kicks them away, all that’s left is a dramatically tented pair of red boxer briefs.
My eyes widen at the discovery. Then I giggle.
“You know”—he approaches me with measured steps—“I hoped that getting naked for you would elicit something other than laughter.”