Page 84 of Snowbound

I hand her the slip of paper from my hand. Her eyes flare. Her mouth twitches like she’s trying not to smile.

“You cashing in another coupon?” she asks, breathless.

“You’re fuckin’ right I am.” I unfold it slowly.

She goes still, then flushes. That gorgeous, dangerous red blooms all the way down her neck, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

“What was I thinking when I made these?” she says with a giggle. “Do you have anything in mind? Any kind of music?”

My fingers slide along her jaw. I tilt her chin up.

“Maybe I do.”

I cross the room, walk over to the old speaker on the shelf, and scroll through my playlist. I tap my phone and find the one I saved just for this—the perfect Christmas song. The one she could make sinful: “Baby It’sCold Outside.”

My mouth goes dry. She tugs the hem of the hoodie and lifts it straight over her shoulders.

Jesus fucking Christ on a cracker. She’s wearing nothing underneath, not even a scrap of panties or a hint of a bra.

She climbs into my lap as the first notes play, straddling me slowly. Her knees spread wide over my thighs, framing me like a gift.

I really should go…

“Baby, it’s cold outside,” I whisper, my voice hoarse.

“Is this okay?” she murmurs.

I grab her hips. “Christ, you’ve no idea.”

The hoodie falls. Her body moves in slow, perfect rhythm with the beat, like she was born for this. Small deliberate circles. Just enough friction to keep me on the edge of snapping.

Her eyes drag up my chest and into my hair.

She whispers the lyrics, pretty and soft, while I kiss her cheek and chime in.

I sing the lyrics, convincing her to stay.

And we become them—the song’s lovers.

Me trying to keep her, while she gives every excuse to leave.

I kiss her cheek as her voice trails off. We both know where the song goes next… about there being “talk tomorrow.”

I don’t care.

And her body’s still moving, slow circles and teasing friction—keeping me at the edge.

Her hands drag up my chest, into my hair. Then her mouth dips to my ear. “I thought about this,” she whispers. “Back when we were younger. Sitting across from you at that awful family dinner…”

My pulse stutters.

“I thought about riding you like this. What your hands would feel like. What your voice would sound like in the dark. If it was just the two of us…”

“Emma,” I growl. My grip tightens on her hips. “You’re gonna fuckin’ ruin me.”

She rolls her hips harder, and my cock strains against my jeans. “Then die,” she whispers, teasing, “but die happy.”

The music plays behind us, their voices merging. Ours becomes one.