Chapter Five
Harlan
Ibury my face in Sophie's throat, breathing her in. Watching her hit that tree was, hands down, the most terrifying moment of my fucking life. I just knew she was going to be dead or seriously injured, and I'd never get a chance to prove to her that I'm not the asshole she thinks I am.
But she's right here in my arms. And she's agreeing to give me another chance. I will not be fucking it up again.
"I need a favor," she whispers into the silence.
"Name it."
"I need you to get me the rest of the way down this mountain," she mumbles. "I can't feel my ass."
My groan turns into a wild laugh, loud enough to shake the whole goddamn mountain. I can't stop the sound. She's safe in my arms, asking me to carry her down the mountain. Yeah, I'm laughing, like I've never laughed before.
"It's not funny, Harlan," she grumbles. "If you weren't so fucking fast on skis, I wouldn't have hit that tree. It's entirely your fault that my ass is frozen right now."
"My fault?" I grin down at her. "I wasn't anywhere close to you. You left me rolling in the snow. Or did you forget that you kneed me in the balls?"
"Oh, I didn't forget. You deserved that." She jabs me in the ribcage with one gloved finger. "You crashed us into a snowbank, you cheater."
"I seem to recall you slashing snow at me first," I remind her.
"Who me? Never happened," she sniffs.
I just grin, hauling us both to our feet.
She's a terrible liar. She's also fucking cute when she does it, so I'm willing to let it slide.
I hold her steady while gathering up our equipment.
Once it's tucked under my arm, I wrap my other arm around her, and we start the last few feet down the mountain.
"Hey. Wait a minute." She pauses right before we make it to the bottom, reaching for one of her poles.
I watch, grinning like an idiot as she hefts the damn thing like a javelin and sends it sailing the rest of the way down the mountain.
It lands in a track in the snow, sticking straight up.
"Would you look at that. Guess I won," she says, her tone casual. There's no hiding the calculated gleam in her eyes, though. They're bright with satisfaction, like she's damn proud of herself.
An abrupt bark of laughter rips from my lips, echoing around us. "You little cheater."
"You started it," she says with a shrug as Austin and his fiancée whiz past us with Tye and Briggs right behind them, both scowling like they're in a race of their own.
Sophie has a point. I did drag her into a snowbank, and I'm not fucking sorry about it, either. Tackling her to the snow to kiss the hell out of her was absolutely worth it. She may be salty about it, but she was never in any danger, not with me.
"Fine. What do you want for your prize?" I ask as we continue down behind the others, curious what she'll ask for…and a little worried she still wants me out of her life. There's no chance I'm going to let that happen. I fucking can't.
She needs a soft place, but I just need her, in a way I've never needed anything before. I'm willing to fight dirty and back her into a corner if that's what it takes to prove to her that her heart is safe with me. It will always be safe with me.
I think she knows it, even if she's running scared.
Sophie isn't the kind of woman who wastes time, and she isn't the kind who spends months talking to men either, not if it doesn't mean a damn thing. She's hurt because I matter to her.
It's driving me nuts that she didn't finish that sentence before she leaped off the lift. Was she going to say she was falling for me?
Christ, I hope so.
"You have to practice with me in the morning."
I blink at her. "What?"
"Since you think being a ballerina is so easy, you get to practice with me in the morning," she says. "Leotard and all."
Jesus Christ.
"They don't even make leotards to fit me, Sophie."
"Oh, but they do."
I should tell her no. I know damn well I should, because I know her well enough by now to know this is not going to be that simple. There will be pain and suffering involved far beyond a damn leotard. She's going to make me pay for that goddamn article until I regret every word of it.
But if I refuse, I'm basically proving to her that I'm not willing to fight for her…and that's not something I'm willing to do. If she wants to parade me around in a fucking leotard until she's convinced I'm sorry, fuck it. I'll play her game.
My masculinity isn't that fragile. It can handle a few hours of humiliation at her hands. But I want something, too.
"Fine, but I get a prize since you cheated your way to first place."
She narrows her eyes at me. "What do you want?"
"I want you to have dinner with me tonight, just the two of us," I murmur, my voice soft. "It doesn't have to be anything more than that, but I want one date, ballerina."
"And then you'll practice with me tomorrow?" she asks, her steps slowing as we pass the lifts.
"That's the deal."
"Fine." She squints up at me, her lips pursed. "But if you think I'm sleeping with you just because you buy me dinner, you're wrong, Captain."
"You won't be sleeping with me because I buy you dinner, Sophie," I say, leaning in so only she hears me.
"When you decide to sleep with me, it won't be because I bought you a steak.
It'll be because you ache so fucking bad for just the thought of my cock that you can't stand not having me inside you.
It'll be because you need me to make you come more than you need to breathe, ballerina. "
Her body sways toward mine, and I groan, desperate to kiss her again right here and now. But I don't. Instead, I step back, trying to be patient. She doesn't fully trust me yet. I need to prove that she can.
And then I can fuck her sideways.
"You ready to ski again?" I ask.
"Hell no," she groans. "I hate skiing."
"Then why…" I trail off, shaking my head. "Never mind. I'm not even going to ask." I'm pretty sure the answer will only stress me out anyway.
"You bet me," she says with a shrug. "I have older brothers, Harlan. I never turn down a bet."
I was right. That answer does stress me out. Jesus Christ.
"You're terrifying," I say, not even joking a little bit.
"Thank you," she says, proud of herself.
I shake my head, chuckling.
A few feet beyond the lifts, Sidney is dusting snow off Hattie, who looks like she wiped out all the way down the mountain. But her face is lit up like a damn Christmas tree, though.
She sees us and immediately waves.
"We're heading back to the lodge," I murmur. "Sophie is done for the day."
Hattie pouts, but Sidney must see something on Sophie's face—or hell, on mine—because he immediately jumps in to distract my sister, allowing me to escape with his.
I steer us around to the opposite side of the van and help her in before I climb in after, setting our skis in the rack.
Sophie's shivering so hard, her teeth clack together.
"Come here," I say, hauling her onto my lap.
She doesn't protest, but she doesn't exactly relax, either.
I wrap my arms around her, cradling her to my chest. The van's heat is cranked, but she doesn't start to thaw until I rub my hands up and down her arms, then her back, then her thighs.
"Your hands are freezing," she mutters as the van pulls out, but she doesn't make a move to get up.
I keep rubbing.
We're silent for several minutes, the only sound the hum of the van's tires.
"You want to know what I really said in that interview?" I finally ask.
She's very still, her breath warm on my neck. "I already read it," she whispers, but I can hear the hesitant hope in her voice, like she wants me to give her a reason to believe I'm not the asshole that article made me out to be.
I hug her tighter. "They took one line, Sophie. The rest of what I said never made the article."
"What did you say?" she whispers, searching my face.
"That it's an insult to compare a ballerina to an athlete, because athletes are just athletes.
We move, we hit, we sweat, and we call it a job.
Ballerinas take everything it means to be strong and turn it into something beautiful.
You turn athleticism into an art form, baby, and you make it look so easy that people forget it's even hard at all.
That's not a sport, it's fucking magic." I swallow, my throat tight.
"I said no one with a football or a hockey stick will ever be able to touch that.
It's not a competition, because we're not even on the same level as you. "
She's silent for a long time. Long enough that I start to think I've made it worse. Then, she exhales, her breath shaking. "Why didn't you just say that?"
"Because you blocked me. Not even a bulldozer could get through the wall you threw up to keep me out."
She makes a sound—a half-sob, half-laugh—and buries her face in my coat.
I rest my chin on her head and close my eyes, relief burning through me. I don't know what to do with this feeling, but I never want to lose it.
Her body shakes even though she's not crying. There's no way Sophie Hawkes would cry over me, but her arms wrap around my waist, and she holds on, like she's afraid of letting go.
I hold her right back.
When we get to the lodge, she doesn't move to get out of the van. Instead, she leans up, placing her lips against my cheek. "Thank you," she whispers against my skin.
"For what?"
"For making me feel like enough."
I don't have the right words, and I don't try to find them. I cup her cheek and pull her into a kiss instead, trying to tell her with my body what my mouth is too fucking clumsy to get right.
She melts into it, her hands fisting in my jacket, her whole body arching into mine.
I'm so fucking gone for her. So gone.
"Why me?" she asks when I finally let her up. "Why do you want me, Harlan?"
The question is so simple, so confused, that it knocks the wind out of me. I think it might also be the most important question I've ever been asked.
I don't even have to think about the answer. "Because you're the only person I've ever met who made me want something I wasn't already winning at. And you're the only one who has ever scared me."
She meets my gaze, her eyes soft, and I see the truth in them, the vulnerability she hides from the world. I scare her, too. I think I scare the hell out of her, and she has absolutely no idea what to do about it.
She's spent so long being told she isn't enough, the thought of finally being enough to anyone is, quite possibly, the most terrifying thing in the world to her.
"Don't run," I whisper.
She hesitates and then nods.
I pull her down for another kiss, promising myself that I'll do whatever I have to do to prove that she's safe with me. Even if I have to wear a fucking leotard to do it.
Like I told her the day we met, I'll pay whatever price she wants, whenever she wants me to pay it. The only thing I'm not willing to do is let her go.