Page 19 of Love Worth Gold
“Then I prove I belong here. Not as Matthias Senn’s daughter. Just as me.”
“You already proved that in St. Moritz.”
Isaline’s smile turned bittersweet. “One race is not enough, Blaire. It never is.”
Inside, someone changed the song. The tempo shifted again, brighter and faster. A group near the windows started dancing, pulling others in with them.
Blaire and Isaline took that as their cue to head back to the dorms.
The cold night air bit at Blaire’s lungs as she fell into step beside Isaline. Their boots crunching over packed snow was the only noise breaking into her thoughts. The plaza lights faded behind them, replaced by the softer glow of pathway lamps and distant windows.
“Your building is that way,” Isaline said, nodding toward the far side of the village.
“I know.”
“So why are you walking toward mine?”
Blaire didn’t have a good answer that wouldn’t give too much away. “Making sure you don’t get lost.”
Isaline let out a laugh that sounded bright and contagious. “I have walked this path at least a dozen times already.”
“I heard Olympic virgins require supervision. I’m just doing my part,” Blaire said with a laugh.
Their hands swung at their sides, close enough that their knuckles brushed with every third step. Neither pulled away. The contact felt accidental and inevitable all at once.
Near a row of equipment sheds, where the path curved into a shadow, they slowed. Blaire wasn’t sure who stopped first. They turned toward each other, and gravity did the work their discipline couldn’t.
Isaline’s breath ghosted white in the frozen air. Blaire could feel the warmth radiating from her mouth and see the exact moment her pupils dilated in the dim light.
They leaned in.
The kiss crashed through Blaire like a gate she’d missed—sudden, consuming, inevitable. Isaline’s mouth was soft andinsistent, her hand fisting in Blaire’s jacket as if she’d been waiting a lifetime to pull her closer. Blaire kissed her back with everything she’d been holding in since St. Moritz, since the podium, since the training run that morning when Isaline had grinned like she owned the mountain.
Heat flooded her body despite the cold. She wanted to find a dark corner and finish what they’d started months ago.
Instead, she broke away, chest heaving.
“I want to sneak into your room,” Blaire said, voice rough. “I want to do absolutely unholy things with you.”
Isaline’s eyes went dark. “Then why are you stopping?”
“Because you have a first gold on the line. And I have a last.” Blaire forced herself to step back. “We both know what happens if we don’t stay focused.”
“So we pretend this is not happening?”
“For now.”
Isaline nodded. A beat passed. Then her mouth curved, wry and sharp. “You are supposed to be the enemy, yes? We are…how you say…competing for same girlfriend. Only one of us gets to take her home with us.”
“Painfully accurate,” Blaire said, one brow lifting. “I’ve chased her for years. She’s very high-maintenance. Demands perfection and is unforgiving when you mess up.”
“So you have a type,” Isaline replied. “Demanding, cold, makes you bleed for a little bit of attention. You will do fine with Swiss women.”
They both took a deep breath in and continued walking until they had reached the Swiss building. Isaline’s hand hovered near the door handle, then dropped to her side. Their fingers brushed one more time, brief as a spark.
“Sweet dreams, enemy,” Isaline said softly. “Try not to have nightmares about losing your girlfriend to me. I want you very rested when I beat you.”
“I don’t have nightmares,” Blaire replied, eyes warm. “But if my girlfriend does end up in your bed, just remember—she’s used to two women fighting over her. If you beat me, I’m filing for shared custody. I don’t give that girlfriend up easily. I’m still planning on taking her home with me one last time.”