Page 50 of Let It Snow (Eden’s Omegaverse #7)

The next week with Summer flows easily, almost carefree.

We spend a lot of time together, but I remain cautious, leaving him space.

I don’t reach for him or initiate sex, even though I miss that closeness desperately.

I’m kinda learning to live with a permanent semi.

I’ve never had to go this long in celibacy before; with Theo, there’s always been enough of those encounters to keep me satisfied.

Still, I strangely appreciate that what’s taking shape now is a completely different kind of connection between us.

However, it quickly becomes obvious that Summer is very open to taking things further.

It’s basically ever-present. His aura glows with shades of pink and red whenever he moves closer.

I catch it in the little things he does, the way his body leans toward me, the energy he gives off when we talk.

He looks at me, and I can sense that part of him is constantly waiting for me to make a move toward him.

Yet I hold back, watching that sweet tension build.

There are a few moments when he catches me looking at it, as it’s constantly tenting, and he bites his lip, probably hearing that my pulse spikes a bit at the tempting view.

Days pass. The sexual energy is steadily spiking.

Even the smallest gestures give him away.

He tries to stay close, sometimes setting up those little situations where our bodies can’t help but brush against each other, rising at the same time I do, pressing past me on the stairs.

I know he’s too shy to say it outright, but it’s there all the same.

As for other matters, we don’t talk about why he left. We don’t talk about the decision he finally made or what led him to it.

But we talk. This is an element we rarely had before; our relationship used to grow in silence, and this feels new, exciting, and somehow we manage to sidestep the most sensitive subjects and still find plenty of good, engaging conversations.

Summer also spends a lot of time with my dad.

In fact, their connection is better than anything my brothers’ partners have with him. Summer and my dad seem to be on the same wavelength. Dad takes him shopping, they work together in the garden, and Summer helps him pull weeds, instantly turning them into dust.

And then there’s the kitchen. I never thought cooking would interest him, yet more than once I’ve watched through the window as he stands there with Dad and Jordan, chopping and stirring while they talk. Well, mostly Dad does the talking.

Yes, Summer is still shy. He doesn’t push himself into conversations; he’s not naturally extroverted.

But he’s definitely gotten more comfortable leaving his room, and he’s become a real part of my family.

A little in the background, but present.

I appreciate that, because day by day it becomes more obvious that by doing this, Summer is showing me that he wants to build a family with me, that he’s trying to fit into our dynamic.

It’s his subtle way of saying: I’m here, and I want to work on our future.

But his patience when it comes to sex clearly has its limits. About a week after he came back, something interesting happens.

One afternoon Summer brings me a snack, then walks over to my piano and suddenly says, "I’d like to learn how to play."

His aura bursts into shades of pale green and blue, a sure sign that he’s not confident about asking. He quickly adds that at his age, learning is slower than when you’re a kid, but he’s decided he doesn’t want to give up on it, on becoming a part of the musicians’ family.

I know from my dad that he had already offered to teach Summer piano, but Summer turned him down. Yet now he’s coming to me with it, which makes me happy. It’s his own initiative, his way of moving things forward between us.

Even though he’s embarrassed, cheeks flushed as he asks, he can’t quite hide his excitement.

Of course, I agree right away.

We’re standing near the piano when he admits that he has almost no musical background.

He once had a plastic keyboard, but he doesn’t remember a thing.

He only knows a few notes, and words like scales, chords, or clefs mean nothing to him.

He leans over the piano as he says it, rather provocatively, his ass jutting out, his round butt cheeks quite visible under the thin fabric of his harem pants.

He looks so effortlessly sexy and adorable, bent over like that, studying the keys and asking which one is which. He seems so small against the size of the instrument. But I’m aware that if he wanted to, he could turn my beautiful piano into dust in seconds.

That’s part of Summer’s charm, though. His power hasn’t made him arrogant. There were moments when it seemed like he wanted to show it off, but then he’d get flustered, embarrassed, uncomfortable, and retreat back into his usual quiet self.

He and I grew up the same. Both homeschooled, both naturally withdrawn, both more comfortable staying in the background and observing.

That similarity helps us understand each other, but at the same time…

it makes it harder to close the gap. It’s like a game of cat and mouse, neither of us rushing to make a move.

The next day we set a time to start his lessons.

When the hour comes, Summer walks into the room surrounded by an orange and pink aura. He’s wearing a loose tank with thin straps and light pink, almost fully see-through harem pants. His violet scent drifts in the air, mixed with the fresh notes of his shower gel.

He comes up to the piano and sits on the bench, his shoulders pulled tight as if he’s bracing for an exam.

I take a slow breath, willing myself to stay calm even though the sweet edge of his scent already pulls at my body. It’s my Twin Soul’s Allure; sweet, enticing, tempting. The one I’ve lived with for the last month, immersed in it, enchanted by it, aroused by it.

Sometimes my libido annoys me, that constant stirring in every cell when I look at his exquisite body, the one I’ve already tasted during his heat. The memory of his voice and breath against my ear makes it challenging to focus, especially when I can also hear his heartbeat, quick and fluttery.

"How was your day?" I ask, keeping my voice even. At the same time, my eyes slide over his naked neck, his unmarked glands, his caramel hair catching the light that slips in through the narrow windows.

Summer’s aura may be that of a timid person, but beneath it, something else awakens.

"It was nice. We baked an apple pie."

"Sounds delicious." I let a small smile curve my mouth. "Okay, since you don’t have much experience with keyboards, we’ll start simple."

I step closer, standing right behind him.

"First, how you sit." I tap the bench lightly beside him with my fingers, then rest one hand between his shoulder blades. "You want to be close enough to reach the keys easily, but not hunched over."

Summer straightens under my touch, and I feel the faint tremor in his back muscles. His scent increases just a little, which is distracting, but I keep my tone even.

"Good. Relax your shoulders."

I slide my hand from his neck to his shoulder, guiding it gently down. His breath deepens. My fingers linger just a second longer before I pull away and crouch slightly to check the angle of his elbows.

"This is better. You should feel loose, not tense. Play as if you could stay like this for an hour without hurting later."

Summer nods, then I notice his mismatched eyes glance up at me quickly before darting back to the keys. He obviously tries not to stare.

"Okay," I say, reaching past him to touch the keyboard. My arm brushes his. "See these two black keys? They’re your landmarks. The white key just to the left is C."

I press it, letting the note ring. "This one is where we start."

"Does it have… a color for you?" he suddenly asks.

"Yeah, it does," I say with a smirk. "Wanna see?"

Summer eagerly nods.

I touch the naked skin on his shoulder, and he shivers; then I hit the key again.

"Wow! Silver!"

"Yes." I take my hand off his arm so as not to make things awkward. "But back to the lesson."

I guide his right hand onto the keys, placing his thumb on C, and I find myself unwilling to let go too quickly.

"Thumb is one. Then two, three, four, five." I tap the top of each finger lightly as I count. "Try pressing one note at a time, C through G, slowly but firmly."

He does, and I watch his hand tremble just slightly. When he misses F the first time, I lean over and adjust his wrist, my palm against the back of his hand.

"Like this," I murmur, my mouth close to his ear, and I can hear his pulse jump.

Then he plays it correctly.

"Good," I say softly. "Now back down: G, F, E, D, C."

He does it again, and again, until the motion is smoother. I stand just behind him, secretly inhaling the warmth and Allure scent rising from his skin, and guide him when his fingers curl too flat against the keys.

"Keep your hand rounded, like you’re holding a small ball," I say, shaping my own hand in the air, then gently adjusting his fingers until they match the curve.

We spend a few more minutes like that, him playing, me correcting the smallest movements. The room is quiet except for the soft notes of the piano and the shallow rhythm of his breathing.

Finally, I sit down beside him, close enough that our thighs almost touch.

His scent has grown more intense, sweeter, and soon faint tones of his slick start to add to the mixture. Yeah, it’s straightforward arousal.

I should probably give him more space, but I don’t move. At one moment he slightly leans back with a quiet exhale, his silver-golden eyes catching mine, and for a heartbeat neither of us looks away.

"Not bad for your first lesson," I say, letting the corner of my mouth tilt upward. I still keep my voice professional.

His lips curve faintly, as if he’s hiding something more.

"I like it," he says softly.