Page 32 of Prince Material (The Prince Pact #2)

ORSON

Snow fell thick across campus, blanketing the world, erasing it.

I hurried from the grand lecture hall to our dorm room as quickly as I could, though careful not to slip on the slick surface.

Even after over three years here, snow was still foreign to me, the stuff of pretty Christmas cards and Facebook posts, not my actual reality.

I hadn’t made my mind up as to whether I actually liked the stuff.

I pulled my hat low over my ears, stuffing my hands in my pockets.

Around me, groups of students hurried across the white fields, heads down against the biting wind, looking for cover.

I was no different, feeling the sting of each flake as I trudged past the library, past a bunch of snow-covered benches, past the dining hall and finally on to the dorms. A chill crept under my layers, and I shivered.

When I turned the corner, I came to a sudden stop, my feet almost sliding right from under me.

Floris stood in the center of the lawn in front of Smelter Hall, arms outstretched, open-mouthed and shocked, or thrilled, or maybe a combination of both.

Like he’d never seen it, like he’d been waiting forever.

A million white crystals covered everything, even him, turning his orange coat into an overgrown marshmallow.

“What are you doing?” I called, trying to sound casual, but my voice caught on the words.

Floris spun around, too fast, nearly slipped on a patch of ice. “Orson! It’s snowing!” he said, as if he had invented the white stuff himself and I should be impressed. He pointed toward the sky, where heavy, gray clouds twisted into strange, dark shapes. “Isn’t it brilliant?”

“It’s snow,” I said, because that seemed to cover it, and someone had to point out the obvious. “Don’t you have this back home?”

He laughed, a cloud of steam billowing around him. “Not like this! It’s so much!” He moved through the falling whiteness, his hair and lashes turning frosty, until he was close enough to touch. “Don’t you love it?”

“In moderate amounts… and not when it’s this cold. The feel temperature is, like, in the low twenties.”

He grinned. “I have no idea what that even means. Using Celsius, remember?”

Oh god. I’d learned the formula back in high school. What was it again? Multiply by… multiply by one-point-eight and then add thirty-two. I did a quick calculation. “Minus five… give or take.”

“Minus five? That’s not that cold. Come on,” he said, and he took my hand.

I wasn’t prepared, not for the touch of his bare fingers against my gloves or for the way his eyes crinkled at the edges, flecks of snow catching in his smile.

He pulled, trying to drag me out into the open.

I let him, even though I knew I shouldn’t.

“Are you trying to kill me?” I said, when we stopped, our breath mixing like we were making clouds .

“Nah. You’re way too pretty for that…” He let go of my hand to flick a snowflake off my cheek, touching me lightly, his fingertips brushing my skin like he’d always been there and always would be.

I couldn’t take it. I was helpless. Hopeless.

I leaned forward, before he could finish the motion.

Before he could pull away. Before I could think and change my mind.

I kissed him, right there on the open commons, with snow in our eyes and a hundred people around us.

The last thing I saw was the shocked look on his face.

And then he kissed me back. His mouth covered mine, his lips cold against mine, and our tongues met and danced. I closed my eyes, sinking into the kiss with all I had… until my feet slipped right from under me and I lost my balance.

I fell back, flat on the frozen ground, the air knocked from my lungs.

Floris landed on top of me, as shocked as I was, as breathless.

But he recovered first, propping himself up on his elbows, looking down at me like he’d won the lottery.

He laughed, and his laughter rolled through me, making my heart pound against the thin layers of my winter coat.

“What the hell got into you?” he said.

In lieu of the answer I didn’t have, I kissed him again.

His lips tasted like wind, like snow, like all the daydreams I had about him.

He kissed me until I forgot about all the people who might be watching.

Until I forgot about everything except the feel of his mouth and the weight of his body and the way his leg pushed between mine, sending little shocks up my spine.

It was insane. It was reckless. It was the most reckless thing I’d ever done, but I couldn’t stop. I grabbed his collar and pulled him closer, turning us both, rolling through the wet snow, until it soaked through my jeans and leaked through his coat and melted in our hair .

“I thought you wanted to keep it a secret,” he said, between kisses, sounding like it was the best joke he’d ever heard.

“I changed my mind,” I said, breathless, even though my mind had gone completely blank, and it was my heart, or maybe some other part, doing the thinking.

Floris laughed, pressing his hips to mine, a little more than teasing. “I like it,” he said.

The cold was creeping up on us, and the clouds seemed to lower themselves to the ground.

But we didn’t stop until we were soaked to the bone, until Floris’s lips turned blue and my hair stuck to my forehead in frozen clumps.

A group of students ran past us, feet crunching in the snow, faces flushed with wind and laughter.

They whistled and cheered and yelled things I couldn’t hear above the pounding in my ears.

“Okay,” Floris said, standing and reaching down to pull me up. “Before I turn into a Floris-cicle.”

“You and the lame jokes,” I said, because he had a habit of thinking everything was hilarious, but secretly, or not so secretly, I loved it.

He draped his arm over my shoulders as we headed toward Smelter Hall, our footprints already disappearing behind us.

Inside, everything felt too warm and too loud.

The dark-wood paneling, the hallways of heavy doors, even the banisters on the iron staircase seemed to vibrate, filled with chatter and commotion.

A burst of students poured past us, shaking off coats and backpacks, thawing and dripping all over the linoleum.

Up in our room, we peeled off our wet clothes.

Floris tossed his bright-orange jacket over a chair, and I kicked off my boots, my fingers trembling with cold, unable to keep up with the task.

My shirt went next, then my jeans, until I stood there in nothing but damp boxer shorts.

Floris’s eyes were glued to me, but instead of being embarrassed, I shivered with the thrill of it .

He grabbed a towel from the rack and tossed one to me. I caught it, almost fumbled.

“Getting naked is smart,” Floris said. “So we don’t freeze.”

He dropped his own shirt to the floor, his tan skin glowing against the whiteness outside.

“Not freezing is good,” I said, unable to take my eyes off the freckled expanse of his chest.

He grinned, wrapping the towel around his waist. “You know what’s even smarter?”

“No, but please enlighten me.”

He stepped closer, only inches from me now. “Getting warm.” He let the towel slip. “In bed. Skin to skin contact will help us warm up fast.”

He held my gaze, and my heart leapt. He didn’t break eye contact as he backed up toward his bed, sitting down on the edge, the springs groaning in a familiar way.

“We wouldn’t want you to die of hypothermia,” I said, as if I cared.

As if I didn’t think I might be the one dying from the need to have him touch me.

I tossed my towel on the floor and climbed in next to him, next to the skin I wanted to memorize before we left for break, before it disappeared and became someone else’s. “I’d feel so guilty.”

“Can’t have that.” He pulled me down, wrapping himself around me like a blanket, the cute kind with a face and paws and ears, the kind you don’t want to take off. His hands moved over my shoulders, along my arms, leaving a trail of sparks. “Is this better?” he asked.

It was too much. It was not enough. “Definitely, but to be sure, don’t stop.”

He laughed and kissed me, letting his weight settle over me until all I felt was him. “I’m going to miss you so much over Christmas break,” he said, pulling back enough to see my face, but not enough to break the pressure that was building between us.

We were both flying out in a few days, and for the first time, I was not looking forward to going home. Christmas break had always been my favorite, but now the time away from Floris doomed over me like a heavy, dark cloud.

“Really?” It came out needier than I’d meant, more than I’d meant, but this whole thing felt unreal, and I needed to hear it again.

“It will be torture.”

“Even though you’ll meet countless tall, blond, attractive Dutch guys?”

He pushed my hands above my head, pinning them to the pillow. “Maybe. But none of them will be you.” His fingers tightened, squeezing my wrists. “None of them will be this hot.”

He let go and kissed his way down my neck, across my shoulder, then worked back to my mouth. He kissed me until I forgot about being cold and the snow and Christmas break and everything else.

His hands moved lower, teasing, until I gasped against his mouth. “What do you want?”

I swallowed. “You.”

He kissed me again. “I’m gonna need you to be more specific.”

“What are my options?”

“You want a multiple-choice question?”

I snickered. “I was thinking more along the lines of a menu, but yeah. What do you recommend, chef Floris?”

He snorted. “Our special of the day is… anal play. Would you be interested?”

He hadn’t even finished before I nodded. “Yes, Chef.”

“Thank you for trusting me. ”