Chapter 14
We eat in the chairs by the window, the small round table between us, my legs crossed and his stretched out.
He watches me dig into the plates he carried upstairs—most of them piled with food for me.
For himself, he took only some eggs and a green apple.
I smile around a mouth of toast, wondering why he would pick the sourest piece of fruit at the buffet table.
And then I remember that things between us have changed. We’re getting to know each other. I can ask him.
“It’s an apple,” he says with an amused shrug. “All apples taste the same, Viola.”
“Wow. You truly have an abundance of terrible opinions. First Persona, now this.” He lets out an exaggerated sigh, and I offer him my Danish. “Want some?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t have a big appetite in the mornings.” It’s so exciting to discover things about him—his habits, his preferences, his needs. I nod, even though I can’t relate at all, and tuck it away for the future.
“I love having a big breakfast.”
“I know.” He notices my raised eyebrows and continues, “We’ve been at a bunch of conferences together through the years. I’ve seen you eat.”
I finish chewing, trying not to get lost in the choked, wistful feeling that comes with knowing that he was looking at me the whole time, even as I believed he was indifferent.
“In case you’re silently judging me for the amount of saturated fatty acids I’m packing in… thank you for not saying it out loud.”
“Do people do that?”
“My family? All the time. Whenever I’m home, it’s a constant commentary on the macronutrients I put into my mouth.”
“That’s intrusive. And needless?” He sounds like he couldn’t possibly care less about what I eat.
“Okay.” I chuckle. “I know how you athletic types are, and I’m not exactly a health nut, so—”
“You’re perfect.” He sounds so serious and earnest, I can’t hold his gaze any longer.
I eat a few grapes, and then ask: “Did you and Ashley ever date?”
His eyes widen. “No, never. Where is this coming from?”
“I don’t know. In the car ride here you two seemed…comfortable with each other. And like you have lots of things in common. Sports and stuff.”
“Is that how you pick the people you date? Comfort and shared interests?”
I mull it over. My latest boyfriend loved archery and playing the clarinet—and I had no interest in either.
“Not really,” I say. “Although my ex and I had nothing in common, and then broke up out of sheer mutual boredom after two years together, so maybe I should pay more attention to that stuff?” I take a sip of coffee.
“What about you? Who was the last person you dated?” I scrunch my face the second the words are out of my mouth.
“I’m sorry. Is it okay to ask? I don’t want to be intrusive. ”
“You can ask me whatever you want, Viola. That’s the whole point.”
There is something in the way he says it that makes me flush.
“I saw someone for about six months. She was not in the industry—a high school teacher. We broke up…exactly a year ago, actually.”
“Right before the holidays?”
He nods.
“What happened?”
A small smile. “After the mistletoe incident, it seemed a little unfair. Continuing with her, that is.” My heart flutters like a hummingbird.
He lets his half-eaten apple dangle from its stem before setting it back on the table.
“And then I haven’t dated much in the past year, not even casually, because of how busy I was with Zephyr’s Blade. ”
“Same here.” I smile when something occurs to me.
“I was thinking that…I’ve seen a lot of industry couples break up, and I’ve always hated how weird things can get afterward, both personally and professionally.
That’s why I avoided any sort of entanglement with colleagues. As you know from my…rant.”
“I do know.”
“But if it’s the right person…I think that it might be nice. Being with someone who understands the pressure of crunch, and how hectic the weeks leading up to a release can be. Someone who loves games as much as I do. Don’t you think?”
With anyone else, I would cut out my own tongue before saying something like this, something full of presumptions hinting that by the time we’re on a tight deadline again, we might still be together.
With Jesse, though, I feel no embarrassment.
I watch the quiet pleasure that blooms on his face at my words, and feel it mirrored by the warmth in my chest.
“I agree,” he says, simple, quiet.
I stare at him like a mooning fool until a yawn bubbles up my chest and breaks the spell. “I’m probably going to have to nap at some point today. I don’t do very well on no sleep at all.”
“Me neither.” He picks up his apple again. “You can nap here.”
I bite my lower lip, turning to the window to hide another smile. “Is it going to stop, you think? The snow?”
“I met Mike downstairs—he said that it’s supposed to go on for a while. The slopes are off-limits. Lots of people went back to bed.”
It’s as if overnight, a huge, white blanket was laid on top of the lodge and the surrounding woods.
The dark green of the pine trees has dulled, wrapped in thick sheets of snow.
I try to remember the last time I’ve felt quiet like this, and come up with nothing.
“What if we get snowed in?” I ask Jesse.
He shrugs, and the corner of his mouth curves up.
It wouldn’t be all that bad, I think, smiling back at him.
Once he has me naked and standing between his open legs, Jesse just stares at me. For forever.
He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, still fully dressed, and taking me in, his gaze dark and intent as it roams over slopes and flatlands.
I’ve always considered myself lucky, because I’ve never developed any self-consciousness about my body, but the way Jesse’s eyes track every inch of my skin would be enough to make even an Instagram model uneasy.
“Want to take a picture?” I ask, hoping a joke will swallow my discomfort. “Actually, do not take a picture. You’re not allowed. Not that I don’t trust you, but I’m not sure what kind of cybersecurity measures you’ve taken to protect your data, and if your cloud gets hacked I—”
His thumb comes up to press on my lips, and his expression has an odd quality to it, at once profoundly calm and desperate. I realize that what he wants is some time and quiet to process this.
To process me.
“Anyway.” My lips curve against the fleshy part of his thumb. I bite delicately, playfully into it. “This is me.”
Jesse sighs and leans forward, pressing a soft, openmouthed kiss right below my sternum.
“Yesterday, when you walked on the deck and took off your robe…” He doesn’t continue immediately.
Just wraps both hands around my waist until my breath catches.
I’m already very wet. “I tried so hard to be good and not to stare. But it’s fucking impossible. You make it impossible.”
I think he might have a thing for my tits, judging from the way he licks my nipples into his mouth, suckles lightly on the plump sides.
He’s good at this, as good as he is at designing games and leading a team and who knows how many other things, so I comb my fingers through his hair, lean into him, and try to keep the sounds coming from my throat at a dignified volume, in case someone happens to wander into our part of the lodge.
I don’t quite succeed.
“What can I do?” he whispers huskily as I wriggle out of his grip, wanting to peel his shirt off. “What can I do to you?”
I tug at his sleeve. “I need this to go.”
He obeys, and his body is so beautiful, I don’t know where to rest my eyes.
The spot where the muscles in his shoulder meet his neck, the curve of his biceps, the way the light hair at the bottom of his abdomen disappears into his jeans.
I want those off, too, so I pull him on the bed with me, my fingers flying to his belt as he takes my face into his hand.
“You taste like strawberries,” he tells me, sucking my lips, kissing me like he has already memorized each corner of my mouth. “What can I do?” he asks again, and I…
“What do you want to do?”
Jesse leans back, his Adam’s apple visibly moving. “You have no fucking idea, Viola.” He looks apologetic. And hopeful. “The things I’ve been thinking about…”
I can’t help but smile. I take his hand between mine, bringing his palm to my mouth. “Why don’t you show me?”
I think this is what he needed—permission to do exactly that.
He groans, and moves lower down my body, burying his nose in my belly and inhaling deeply.
And then he effortlessly flips us around, until I’m on my knees facing his feet and his face is between my legs, and before I can orient myself or process his intentions, he’s already licking up into me.
I gasp.
“Fuck,” he grunts. “I hoped you’d be wet.”
Honestly, drenched would be a more apt descriptor, and I exhale in surprise, slamming my palm on my mouth.
He lets out another deep groan, runs his palms up my thighs to my butt, and as he licks between my folds, he pulls me down to better meet his mouth.
I lean back and blindly search for support, trying to find balance on my knees, and end up holding on to one of the posts.
I don’t know why, but I didn’t think that the first thing he’d want to do with me would be having me kneel on his face.
And yet, the way his tongue and teeth work against me is simply unreal.
Like this is a plan he had, something he’s been plotting for a while.
“I’ve been dreaming about this,” he says, his nose brushing against my lips and making me shiver. He moans before licking carefully around my opening. “For years.”
I want to know more. I want every little detail of every single thing he has imagined.
I want to know if it’s living up to his expectations, but he nips at my inner thigh, and my mind snaps blank for a minute.
He’s so good at this. Talented. A man on a mission, single-minded and dedicated, with just the right amount of pressure and suction, and my nerve endings are about to explode.
I feel addled, dizzy with the pleasure of it.
“You taste even better than I expected,” he says, hoarse and a little incredulous. When he takes my stiff, swollen clit between his lips, it’s like a fist wrapping around my lower belly.
But I don’t want to come, not yet. Not when there’s more of this to have.
“Can you—can you give me a minute to…” I look down, to the jeans I never managed to take off him.
His erection is a long and hard imprint against the fly, and after a moment to balance myself, I lean forward, my palms coming to rest on each side of his hips.
Once I’m steady, I take out his cock, the catch of the zipper mixing with the wet sounds rising from his mouth.
“You don’t have to—” he mumbles, but I’m fast, and sloppy with pleasure, not thinking it through before lowering myself.
Just by having him in my mouth, the pleasure pooling in my stomach tightens and deepens.
My thighs clench and release, and I rock against his face as I take him deeper in my throat.
“Shit, Viola. Shit.”
We come at the same time, and it feels so good, it shoots me into a whole new world.
I shower in his room.
There is no reason for it. My room is less than ten feet away, with my towels and my shampoo and my body wash and my clean clothes.
The phone I haven’t checked in over twelve hours—a first in my adult life—is there, too.
Using my own bathroom would be the sensible, convenient thing to do, but Jesse takes my hand and asks me not to go.
“Not yet,” he says, calm, unglued like I’ve never seen him, his hand cupping the back of my head, and I don’t even need to say yes.
I just relax into him and let him lead me to his shower to wash every nook and cranny of my body, lingering and thorough and oddly familiar, as though this were a habit, one time out of many and not the first.
Jesse is hard throughout, but when I offer to do something about it, he shakes his head, and bends down to lick the water from my skin.
He laughs quietly when I try to return the favor and wash his hair—I can’t quite reach, and he has to pick me up, hands under my ass as I wrap my legs around his waist like he’s the sturdiest of tree branches.
We kiss. Endlessly. We kiss until the skin of my fingers becomes pink and wrinkly, and his cock gets even harder, his heartbeat faster.
Eventually I take pity on him and bring him off with slow, lazy pulls, licking the protest away from his lips until a shiver runs through his spine and come mixes with soap suds in the shower drain.
He towels me off and gently retaliates, his fingers a little fumbling but deliciously thick and eager, his mouth unbearably skilled, and my mind whites out as my body blossoms with a sweet, clinging pleasure that makes me forget myself for long, long moments.
This, I think while attempting to catch my breath, my hand running through Jesse’s damp hair as he nibbles idly on my hip bone, is not at all how I thought this retreat would go.