Snowed in with Mr. Heartbreaker (Copper Valley Bro Code #5)

Chapter 12

12

Aspen

There are no more nightmares.

I don’t sleep through the whole night, but anytime I wake up, Cash is there.

He’s cradling me from behind, or I’m sleeping with my head on his shoulder, or we’re holding hands.

If I get cold, he’s curling around me before I realize what’s wrong.

If I make a noise, he pulls me closer.

He gets up to put more wood on the fire occasionally, and eventually, I realize the room is light.

It’s a dim light—the curtains and blinds are still drawn—but the light making its way through the fabric tells me that the sun has chased the clouds away.

The fire’s going bright, as though Cash must’ve just put another log or two on, but he’s curled up behind me again, one hand cupping my breast, his breath warm on my bare shoulder.

I stretch my legs, and his grip tightens.

“Morning,” he says softly.

“Morning,” I murmur back.

“Can’t remember the last time I didn’t have to get up and do something.”

Translation: don’t you dare move, we’re staying right here because it’s cozy and warm and perfect.

At least, that’s how I choose to translate it.

“I don’t do lazy well,” I tell him.

“You’re not being lazy. You’re keeping me warm. Essential job. My family thanks you.”

He’s made sure I’m nearest the fire the entire night.

It’s a little thing, but it’s not something I take for granted.

“The bigger I get, the more I worry my family will come after me,” I whisper.

“I won’t let them.”

I don’t need other people to take care of me.

But I’m starting to believe in the idea that I’m not alone.

I have people in my life that I call friends. People other than Waverly, I mean.

But I don’t let them close. Not close enough to tell them why I don’t let them close.

It’s something of a self-perpetuating cycle, and generally, they move on after a few years. It’s the way of things, and I’ve accepted it.

Until now.

Now, I don’t want to move on to a different friend group. I want to stay here, with Cash. I want to know that eventually, when the power comes back on, I can call Waverly and she’ll worry and then I’ll tell her a bear got into Cash’s car and we’ll both laugh about it.

Once we’re safe.

Once the power’s back on and the driveway is clear.

“You don’t even know why that’s a bad thing,” I say to Cash.

“Don’t need specifics. I just need to know you don’t want them to come after you. PS, family should never come after you. That’s not how family’s supposed to work.”

“Did you really just say PS ?”

“All the young people are doing it.”

I smile at the fire and stroke my fingers up and down his arm.

I like his arm. It’s strong and sinewy, with wiry light brown hairs all over it giving it a rough texture.

He kisses my shoulder, and I doze back to sleep.

I don’t know how much time passes before I realize he’s up again, adding more logs to the fire. The room’s even brighter now.

“Hungry?” he asks me.

My stomach answers for me.

He’s pulled his pants and shirt back on. I tell myself it’s for warmth, and he’ll get naked with me again, but I don’t know for sure.

“You want cheese and carrots, or do you want to eat blindfolded and have something that you’d rather not realize you’re eating?” he asks me.

Sweet man doesn’t want to feed me a gingerbread house if he thinks it’ll make me upset. “I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

“Boozy truffles for breakfast it is.”

I reach for my hoodie, but he makes a noise.

I lift a brow at him.

“Can I watch you eat naked?”

My vagina clenches in anticipation and my breasts tingle in excitement. “You want to see this?” I ask, giving him a peek at one nipple.

His Adam’s apple bobs and he adjusts himself in his pants as he looks down at me. “Yes. But not if you’re cold.”

I push up to sitting and let the quilts fall to my waist. “I think I’ll be okay.”

He stares at my breasts.

I rub my hands under them, then pinch my nipples.

“Fuck, Aspen,” he rasps.

“Bring the boozy chocolates.”

It’s amusing that he thinks he’s too old for me when he can move that fast.

One moment, I’m watching his ass in his jeans, and the next, he’s kneeling at the foot of the bed, stripped down himself, and crawling up to me with a box of truffles in one hand.

Tight muscles cover his shoulders and chest, and his erection stands tall and proud from a thatch of light brown hair. I reach for it as he holds a truffle to my mouth.

His eyes cross, and he swipes the chocolate over my cheek.

“Fuck. Sorry,” he mutters.

I giggle.

And when he offers me the truffle again, I suck his fingers into my mouth with the chocolate treat.

His cock twitches in my hand.

I squeeze it lightly, then stroke it up and down, watching his eyes slide shut as he pulls his fingers out of my mouth. “Aspen…”

“Nowhere to go,” I whisper. “All we have to do is stay warm today.”

He growls, and then the man has his face between my thighs, doing exactly what he promised last night and eating me for breakfast.

His tongue on my seam, his lips sucking on my clit, his fingers teasing my inner thighs—it’s not thirty seconds before I’m coming in a blindingly hot flash of heaven.

And as I’m lying there panting, he looks up at me and smirks.

Smirks .

Like I told you so or something.

“You’re—really good—at that,” I pant. “Did you—practice—on a—watermelon?”

He dips his head to my stomach and laughs.

I could lie here forever, running my fingers through his hair, my body warm from the afterglow of an orgasm.

But it doesn’t work that way when the power’s out, apparently.

He snags the covers and pulls them up over both of us as he settles next to me, pressing kisses to my shoulder and neck.

“I like you,” he murmurs.

“I like you too,” I whisper back while I arch into his erection again.

We both fall silent, letting our hands and our bodies do the talking as I hook a leg around his hip and scoot closer, rubbing my pussy against his cock again.

He holds my gaze as he slides into me, silently asking all of the questions.

Is this okay? Are you okay? Do you want more? Oh, right there, hmm? This too?

I can’t remember the last time I had four orgasms in under twelve hours, but here we are, with me biting his shoulder as I come hard and fast again, my body responding like this is what it’s been missing my entire life.

How is it so easy to be with him?

Is this the snowed-in effect?

Is it the fire?

Or is it simply him ?

While we lie panting, limbs still tangled, both of us still on our sides, he once again pulls me closer.

I don’t date guys who pull me closer. I date guys who get off, say things like thanks, love, let’s do that again soon , and get back up and go about their days.

But Cash—he’s sighing that bone-deep, contented sigh as I snuggle closer against his body.

If the real world didn’t exist, if we didn’t eventually have to leave here—possibly on foot to get to the nearest cabin through the snow if we run out of firewood—I’d let myself be happy.

Believe in this.

But I know it can’t last forever.

Especially when his stomach grumbles too.

“Possibly that was more of a workout than breakfast?” I tease.

He shifts, leaning over me to grab the chocolates, then settles back in close.

He feeds me one first, then pops one in his own mouth. “I haven’t had candy for breakfast since I was a kid.”

“Living on the edge out here.”

“I’ll be hyped up like a chipmunk in the next thirty minutes.”

I lean my head against his chest and listen to his heartbeat.

It’s music.

The best kind of music.

“You need your journal?” he asks after a while.

Huh.

I don’t.

Not at all, in fact. Not even to write down how amazing this has been.

I don’t want to vomit these moments out of my brain.

I want to keep living in them.

He plays with my hair. I trace patterns on his chest.

This , my heart whispers again. This is what’s missing .

We lie like this for hours, but eventually, we’re both starving enough to get up for real food. While we roast chicken strips over the fire with the longest silverware we can find, we make small talk until small talk turns to real talk.

I tell him a few of the shorter stories about why I hate the holidays.

He tells me he’s getting tired of Hollywood, and also that I should spend time with his family at weird holidays like Groundhog Day and Talk Like a Pirate Day since everyone deserves a holiday they love.

I tell him I’m afraid I’ll be a one-hit wonder.

While several of my songs have charted, they haven’t charted high .

Not like “Forget Christmas.”

“You’ll hit with another song.” His voice is now rough whiskey, and I want to drown in it.

“Another Christmas song,” I mutter as I test my chicken. Not quite done.

He snorts in amusement. “So don’t record more.”

“What if that’s all that my audience wants from me though? What if I’m Mariah Carey but without the rest of her catalog?”

“Do you want to keep recording normal-time songs?”

“ Yes .” I love performing. I love singing. I don’t care if there’s one person or a thousand in the audience. “But if I’m a one-hit wonder with a Christmas song, I’m done. I’ll go back to remote jobs and find a new hobby and squat in your pool house forever.”

“You are not a one-hit wonder.” He pauses in roasting his own chicken to tuck a lock of hair behind my ears, and I get a whole-body shiver at his touch.

The good kind of whole-body shiver. “I don’t think you understand the way my karma works in the universe. It’s so bad, I was probably one of those people in a previous life who lived to yuck other people’s yums and always left grocery carts in the middle of the parking lot even though I was able-bodied enough to return them to the cart holders.”

His gaze drops to my lips.

My belly drops to the floor.

I shouldn’t want him to kiss me again. We’ve already made this more complicated for when we go back to the real world.

But I feel so safe here with him.

Cherished. Appreciated. Adored.

“Some people get all of their hard parts out of the way early in life,” he says. “That’s you. You’ve gotten the hard things out of the way, and everything from here on out is clear skies and smooth sailing.”

“Your confidence is adorable.”

“There’s this thing that when you get snowed in with someone, you swap luck. I have the best family. Great friends. Already had two great careers. Still have time to find another if I want. When we get out of here, you’re taking all of my luck with you. Your everyday songs are gonna explode, Aspen. You’ll find the people you call family. And you’ll be happy.”

My heart is a jackhammer trying to get through my breastbone. I want to believe him. I want to believe him so badly it hurts.

But more, I want to kiss him.

I want to kiss him more than I want to breathe.

Again .

“It doesn’t work like that.”

He smiles at me. “I look forward to the day you eat those words.”

I’m looking forward to being trapped here with him for a few more days.

Because here, I can kiss him.

Here, I can believe he wants to be one of those people I call family. That he wants to be one of those people who call me family.

That our friendship is supposed to progress this way forever.

And that I don’t have to be afraid.