Snowbound with the Santas (Forbidden Fantasies)

17. Rayne

17

RAYNE

A fter embarrassing myself with Archer, I took his advice and had a long, hot shower to wash away the lotion he massaged into my aching muscles and to give me time to think.

I hadn’t expected Archer, of all people, to follow me, or to press so insistently about what was wrong. Out of the three of them, he definitely struck me as the one who wanted to keep me at arm’s length, which is why I thought taunting him about the massage would scare him away.

Instead, he leaned into it and then next thing I knew, I was orgasming from just how good his hands felt against my skin. Sex with Frankie was easy because we were in a confined space with minimal touching, but that massage?

I had nowhere to hide. Archer touched me everywhere, and my body opened up to him in response. It was one of the most intense orgasms I’ve ever had, and he only worked my muscles.

And then he was sweet about it afterward.

Just like a dream.

That moment replayed over and over in my mind as I showered, and it lingered as I stepped out and wrapped myself in one of the gigantic, unused fluffy towels. The towel has a faint musty smell, likely from being unused. As I perch on the edge of the bath and carefully drag a disposable razor up my leg, I try—and fail—not to picture what each of them would look like in a towel.

They are all so swift and efficient that I wouldn’t be surprised if they all just toweled themselves down within thirty seconds and then went about their day.

Then, without warning, the entire bathroom plunges into darkness and my gliding razor slips enough to spark hot pain across my shin. That, plus the sudden absolute darkness, draws a squeal of fright from my throat, and I freeze.

The power’s out?

They never told me what to do if the power went out. I’ve been aware of how dark it gets outside, but being inside without the lights, the darkness is suddenly suffocating.

“Hello?” I call out, but there’s no answer.

Shit .

Okay, I have to be logical. I’m sure that this is a common occurrence since they rely on a generator, and really, how reliable can a generator even be when you’re up a mountain in the snow? After a few steadying breaths, I set the razor down on the tray that runs along the bath and stretch one hand out for the sink.

I’m sure I saw a flashlight in there when I was searching for the disposable razors Archer mentioned. My fingertips brush nothing, and I don’t want to leave my seat on the edge of the bath until I have something else to guide me.

It’s so dark that I’m not even convinced that my eyes are open since there’s no difference when I blink. Chewing slightly on the inside of my cheek, I lean forward further until my fingertips brush the cold edge of the copper sink and a rush of relief moves through me.

With the sink for balance, I pull myself forward and hiss slightly as the smarting pain from my razor cut flares up sharply.

“So dumb,” I murmur. I’ve had countless accidents with a razor while shaving, and each time I tell myself it can’t possibly happen again.

And then it does.

I crouch down and open the cupboard doors, then thrust both hands inside and carefully feel over the countless items inside. There are boxes, a wicker basket and toothbrushes, a few bottles, and other items that I can’t decipher through shape alone. No flashlight, though.

“Rayne?” Knuckles rap quickly against the door and then it swings open, revealing a beam of light aimed down at the floor.

“Nick?” I squint upward, unable to tell who is holding the light until he walks closer and holds out one hand for me.

“Yeah, it’s me. Are you okay? We heard you scream. Are you hurt?”

“I just slipped with the razor,” I explain, taking his hands. The warmth of his fingers closing around mine immediately soothes my heart, calming an influx of nerves I hadn’t even registered.

“Here, sit. Let me take a look.” Nick guides me backward until my calves hit the toilet, and I sit down. Then he kneels in front of me, and I can just make out the full bush of his beard in the aura around his flashlight.

“It’s really nothing.”

“I still want to look.” Nick hands me the flashlight, then cups my legs and checks them both at a glance. My left has blood trickling slowly down my shin from a single thin slice just below my knee.

“See?” I tease softly. “I’m fine. What happened to the power?”

Nick glances up, squinting against the light, so I keep the beam down on my leg. “The storm’s well and truly here. It knocked out the generator. Archer wants to go fix it, but I told him I’d kill him if he even thought about going outside right now.”

“He wants to go out in the storm?”

“He’s a fixer,” Nick replies, using the washcloth to clean up my leg. “His first thought is to get the power back. Mine is to keep everyone safe and not frozen to death. Speaking of which.”

Satisfied that my leg is okay, he grips my knee lightly and looks up at me.

“We’ll get you some extra blankets to keep you warm tonight while you sleep. It won’t feel like it at first, but the lights and such do end up providing some warmth and without it, this place can get pretty cold.”

I nod, and a shiver shoots down my spine as the damp ends of my hair trail across my shoulders. “Okay, thank you. Actually…” I pause briefly. “Everything you have all given me, from clothes to the razor and toothbrush, is all borrowed.”

“Yes.” Nick nods, and his eyes crinkle slightly when he smiles. “Is that a problem?”

“No, not at all, but I was just wondering… whose bed am I sleeping in?”

Nick’s smile widens. “Mine. Any complaints?”

“No.” I smile back at him. “I was just curious. So, where are you sleeping?”

“In a cot in Frankie’s room.”

“A cot?”

“Yeah, a military cot,” Nick explains. He digs around in the cupboard for something and pulls out a Band-Aid. The paper is yellow with age, but the bandage itself is clearly in good condition. As soon as he opens it, my nose stings with the slightly sharp smell of antiseptic.

“Thank you,” I whisper as he covers the cut with the Band-Aid and smooths it down with both of his thumbs.

“You’re welcome.” Nick looks up at me, and the glow of the flashlight from below highlights his handsome face in such a way that all his sharp, masculine features stand out a little more.

His blue eyes are dark in the low light, and his smile is wide, even buried in that beard. It warms my heart just as much as his hands on my leg, and my core gives an unexpected flutter.

He’s so incredibly handsome. I thought that ever since I laid eyes on him, but now that I know how gentle and caring his heart is, he’s ten times more attractive.

“So, uhm…” The words catch in my throat as Nick’s hands continue to linger on my leg. The hand just under the crease of my knee slides up half an inch, and his fingertips skim across the sensitive skin of my inner thigh.

“Your other wound,” he says softly. “It survived the shower?”

“Mmhmm.” I pull my towel up to show him the neatly wrapped bandage that, while damp, is still secure in place around my thigh. His fingers stroke upward and he shifts on his knees.

I study his face, watching as his brow pulls south slightly and his lips press into a line as he checks me over. His long, blond hair is scooped back into a loose pony at the base of his neck, but as a few loose strands fall forward, I ache to touch them.

And then I do because my self-control goes out the window.

Reaching forward, I catch those strands with the backs of my fingers and tuck his hair back behind his ear. As I do so, Nick looks up at me through his fluffy lashes and my core gives another unexpected clench. My thighs follow suit as my nerves jump, and I slowly wet my lower lip.

“You, uh…” I swallow hard. “Any–Anything else you want to check out?”

I don’t know what triggers it, and frankly, I don’t care. Nick suddenly surges upward, and his mouth crashes into mine in a full kiss that immediately takes my breath away. His lips are thick and soft, dwarfing my own as he kisses me. His beard is soft against my cheek and neck, and as both of his hands slide up under my towel to grasp my bare hips, my heart punches up into my throat.

I drape my arms around his shoulders once the surprise passes, then pull him close against me and sink into the incredible warmth that pours off him.

Nothing else matters. Pain is forgotten. Tiredness is forgotten. There’s only Nick and the scents of woodsmoke and mint filling my lungs. His mouth devours mine, and when we part briefly for air, he immediately kisses me again. His tongue thrusts into my mouth, and he pulls me off the toilet and swiftly into his lap like I weigh nothing.

It’s incredibly thrilling, and I giggle, unable to stop myself. Nick smiles against me as his tongue slides against my own, weaving a path through my mouth like he’s exploring every inch of me. His hands push the towel away, and rough fingertips trail up my bare back, then down to the swell of my ass where he grips a handful and pulls my hips against his.

The roughness of his jeans is a shock against my pussy, but the surge of pleasure is delicious. My fingers scrabble at his shirt, seeking a path in to get my hands on the hot skin I know is underneath. It’s a challenge since he refuses to let me go and help. He’s caught up in kissing me, switching the lock on my lips each time we need a gasp of air, and he repeatedly pulls my hips against him.

“Nick,” I rasp out, barely able to speak. “I want?—”

“I know.” He growls, and his voice is so low that I feel it vibrate through his chest. He finally releases me so he can rip his shirt over his head. Then when he pulls me against him, my bare breasts press into the thick ridges of his muscular torso, cushioned by the swirls of chest hair covering his pecs. His warmth is unbelievable, and I writhe against him. Nick breaks the kisses to nip a path down my throat. When I tip my head back to give him more room, he bites across my collar bone and kisses the hollow of my throat. Then he trails open-mouthed kisses across my breastbone.

I want more.

My entire body flushes hot with excitement and repeated pulses of need clench through my core. Panting, I caress every inch of his chest that I can reach. At his shoulders, I grip on, and Nick suddenly lifts me upward. His teasing lips and tongue latch onto a nipple and my eyes roll back. I give in to the moans, not caring who hears.

The darkness only amplifies everything I feel because I can’t see where Nick is going to touch next. The flashlight lies discarded on the floor, showcasing our writhing shadows on the opposite wall, and I spare them only a glimpse because when Nick drops me back down into his lap, I forget to breathe.

He wiggles his pants down and his thick, throbbing cock presses firmly against my pussy, a promise that I’m not even sure will fit. My entire body quivers and I clutch at his neck.

“Holy shit,” I gasp weakly, rolling my hips down on his swollen shaft. “You’re—holy shit.”

“Aren’t you kind to my ego?” Nick laughs huskily. He kisses me again, sliding his tongue deep into my mouth. I cup his face, stroking his beard and sliding my hands into his thick hair.

He lifts me up, and my heart skips a beat.

Nothing could prepare me for how thick his cock really is. The moment that swollen crown presses against me, I do everything I can to relax, but I’m so excited it’s impossible. Pulse after pulse of want courses through me and my own slick soaks my thighs. Nick is gentle, letting my own bodyweight ease me down onto his cock, and I have to break the kisses to tip my head back and pant.

He fills me completely, so full that when I’m finally seated in his lap, I swear his cock is nudging the base of my ribs when I breathe.

I’m greedy. I can’t wait. Using his shoulders for balance, I begin to bounce in his lap, and each sweet drag of his cock inside me presses against my G-spot and sends light bursting across my eyelids.

I can’t take it and at the same time, I don’t want it to stop. Nick winds both his arms around me, pressing me firmly against his chest, and then he rises up onto his knees.

I wind my legs as far around his waist as I can. Then he starts to fuck me. I am completely lost to the onslaught of pleasure that follows his barrage of thrusts, and I can’t contain the cry he punches out of me.

His hips are a blur. He fucks with power, and each slam of his hips draws a desperate, needy squeal from my lips.

I need more. I need everything he can give me and more. My core throbs hot and muscles clamp down on each thrust, desperate to hold him as close to me as I can.

The door to the bathroom suddenly swings open, revealing Archer and Frankie standing there with their flashlights pointed directly at us.