Chapter 4
Chapter four
Daniel
Penelope skis well, and for the next two hours we chat and flirt a little on the lift, and then she follows me down the slope. She’s not an immediate talent or prodigy, but she doesn’t fall either.
“Want to try a more difficult slope?” I ask her on our last run before our lunch break.
“Nope!” she says cheerfully. The tip of her nose and her cheeks are pink from the cold and the wind, and her gorgeous red hair is accentuated by the standard black helmet she rented.
We glide off the lift, and I note how she does everything I ask perfectly.
Would she be like that in bed, too? Would she get on her knees for me if I told her to?
My instant attraction to her has turned into a full-blown crush now.
And I’m dying to figure out how to spend more time with her.
I know I can simply ask her for her number after the lesson, but even the idea that she’ll return to DC tonight feels too big.
I’ll text her and figure out the logistics of meeting her again, but that’ll take time.
“How about we get lunch after this run? It’s about time,” I say, checking my watch.
“Sure.”
She follows me down again, and I try to make my path a bit more aggressive for her.
She’s doing so well. If she lived closer to a ski slope, she really could pick it up quickly.
But she said that only rich people ski. It makes me wonder what her home life is like.
Is my girl not living well? I quickly cycle through a list of questions to ask her over lunch.
We don’t normally eat with our students, but she doesn’t need to know that.
After we stop at the bottom of the hill, Penelope is breathless, panting. It makes my cock jerk alive in my ski bibs. I pop my skis off and stand behind them to hide my erection. Ski bibs aren’t exactly stiff enough to hide a boner. I take a few measured breaths in and out, willing my body to obey.
I take her poles and skis from her after she’s stepped out of them and place them in a nearby rack.
“No one’s going to steal them?”
God, she’s precious. “Nope, and if they do, we have cameras everywhere,” I reply, pointing to the underhang of the three-story lodge.
I guide her into the lodge with a hand on the small of her back. I want her to be comfortable with me.
We walk through the cafeteria-style food area and pick out what we want for lunch. I get the tomato soup and grilled cheese, and she gets a burger and fries. I pay with my employee card.
Also, not something we typically do, but if my girl’s struggling financially, I’m going to do whatever small thing I can to provide for her. The feeling of providing for her is a warmth throughout my belly and chest. It feels right.
I find us a cozy, two-person tabletop by the windows so she can watch the other patrons while we eat.
“This looks so good,” she says enthusiastically.
We eat in comfortable silence at first. Both of us killed a couple hundred calories skiing, so we’re both starving.
When she slows down, she watches out the window wistfully.
“How did you become an instructor?”
I chuckle. It’s a sad story.
“I was in college to become a CPA.”
“CPA?”
“An accountant.”
She nods.
“And then my sister died.”
Green eyes find mine, and two lines form between her eyebrows.
We shed our coats, gloves, and helmets when we sat down, so when she reaches her hand out to cover mine, I revel in the touch of warm skin. Before she can pull away, I flip my hand and interlace my fingers with hers.
“I’m so sorry that happened.”
I nod at the familiar sentiment. “She was still in high school. She’d been sick. Sleeping more than normal, depressed, not eating. Our parents brushed it off as ‘typical teenage shit’,” I say sarcastically, using finger air quotes. I shake my head to clear it as that familiar anger seeps back in.
“One day, she collapsed at school and was taken to the hospital in an ambulance. By the time my parents got there, she had been diagnosed with leukemia. She never woke up.” My jaw clenches as I bite back my emotions.
“I loved my little sister. She was my best friend. And I was so pissed at my parents for not noticing something was wrong. And pissed at her for not causing more of a fuss.” My voice catches as I feel my bottom eyelid getting damp.
Fuck, I don’t want to cry in front of her.
I’m supposed to be the easy-going one, right? The fun, flirty one?
But she squeezes my hand, and I take it to mean that she can see me, and I can let myself be vulnerable. I swipe at a stray tear. “So, I did what I thought would piss them off and became a ski bum.” I force a smile back onto my face.
I search her face for any reaction, but all I see is indecision. And then it clears. She stands up, and I just watch her, helpless, as she comes around our table and stands next to me, hand still holding mine. She tugs my hand up, and it takes me a second to realize she wants me to stand.
So, I do.
She’s so small, standing this close to me, and without her big, fluffy jacket.
And then she’s wrapping her arms around me.
She’s hugging me. She rests her head on my sternum and holds me.
I give a disbelieving half-chuckle, but wrap my arms around her shoulders, too, leaning down slightly.
And in the middle of this noisy, bustling lodge with a couple of hundred people, it’s just me and her.
Just two people, vulnerable and caring enough to hold each other.
God, I didn’t know I needed this. I don’t think I’ve been hugged since the funeral. Manly back pats, sure. A hand on the shoulder in sympathy. But never just held. I let out a deep sigh as I bring my cheek to her hair.
After what feels like a second, and also a lifetime, she leans back, looking up at me. “I’m sorry. I just thought you could use a hug.”
Her arms are still around my waist, like she’s not quite ready to let go.
“Thank you. I did.”
We retake our seats and regard each other with soft smiles, before her eyes drop to my soup.
“Do you want some?” I offer quickly. I know soup doesn’t repay kindness, but maybe it’s an easy way to move on from our emotionally charged moment.
She twists her lips to the side like she’s been caught. “I thought the burger would be the best since I was so hungry, but that soup looks amazing.”
“Here, come here,” I say, reaching around the table to pull her closer to me by the leg of her chair. She squeals in surprise and grabs the sides of her chair like she’s going to fall off of it.
“You’ve got to try it with the grilled cheese,” I say, dipping the corner of my grilled cheese into the tomato soup and then bringing it directly to her mouth. I hold one hand underneath to catch any drips.
Her eyes widen in surprise, but she opens her mouth dutifully. And it’s a fucking mistake.
Because in the next three seconds, I’m hard as a rock.
Her plump lips open. I get a flash of white teeth digging into bread, and then she closes her eyes and moans. Christ. Yes. I need to hear that again.
A droplet of tomato soup falls from the sandwich and dribbles down her chin. Her hand searches blindly for a napkin, but I’m there before she can find one.
I pull the grilled cheese away and swipe my thumb across her chin slowly. Her eyes fly open at the contact and find mine. I pray she can’t see how much she’s affected me, but her eyes drop to my lips.
I stifle a groan as I sit back in my chair.
“Good, right?” I aim my voice to sound casual, but it comes out thick and rough. Deep and gravelly. Like I want to do other good things with her.
She nods and quickly takes a swig of her Sprite. She looks back out of the window, needing a minute to compose herself.
It was that moment that would set me on a path that would affect me for years to come, and I learned what a pleasure Dom is.