Snowflakes in Seattle

Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

WYATT

I was a train off the tracks.

Her neck smelled so damn good, like spring right when it blooms. She had looked beyond edible in those little pajama shorts and one of my old college T-shirts. Having her in my arms felt so right .

The hammering in my chest, the shaking hands, the stuff happening down south from her closeness were nothing compared to the dreamscape I disappeared to in my mind. The place I’d built for mutual ruin. Flashes and fragments of fucking like I’d never known. Of feelings I’d never known.

I ripped myself out of my mind, away from cries of pleasure and marks from restraints, and gently let her go. The song was over, anyway. I shouldn’t have grabbed her without asking. I shouldn’t have let my lips connect with her skin, a tiny taste that had started a frenzy.

Olive needed to feel safe here. Top priority. I’d give her more only when she asked. Begged. Demanded. I’d take any form of consent she was willing to offer at this point.

Her eyes followed me as I forced myself away from her, distracting myself from how good she felt by instead focusing on the last few boards. Then, we stepped back to study the work we’d accomplished.

“You’re amazing,” I said. I would never have attempted a change this bold. When she’d said “chevron” to me, my brain had jumped to the gas station, not the geometric pattern now covering my wall. The space already looked sexier, even in progress.

“We make a good team,” she replied, smiling.

We did. I loved that fact a little too much.

“I’m gonna jump in the shower,” Olive told me. “Get some of this dust off me.”

I nodded.

While she showered, I made up a bed for her on the couch since mine was covered in drop cloths and construction debris. I’d take the chair again.

I’d need another shower, too. A long one.

I actually hid in my room while she finished up in the bathroom then moved to the living room. After tonight, after watching her think with those lips pursed out, dance with no shame, and work so hard for me that sweat beads had lined her forehead, creative and handy had shot to the top of my sexiest qualities list. Olive had traveled miles past dream girl.

And lived so many damn miles away.

When I heard the TV, I grabbed pajamas from my dresser and scooted into the bathroom.

I let the small room get full of steam before I stripped naked and stepped under the streaming water.

The moan that tumbled out of me was one of appreciation. We’d worked hard all day. I’d loved keeping my hands busy. Loved watching her hands busy. Those hands were careful and sure.

In another time and place, I knew those sure hands would wrap around and dominate my cock. There was fire in Olive, a knowing, that told me she wouldn’t be tentative. She’d take while she gave.

I circled my fingers around my hard length and tugged, picturing Olive in front of me. Hair a wet, black sheet. Water cascading off those tits and into my hands. My mouth.

She was vocal with my lips on her nipples, the water drowning out the rest of the world.

She rasped my name and begged for my cock while I sucked. She pumped my cock faster, with desperation. I’m dying for you, Wyatt . I need your cock. Her lips seared mine. Her teeth nipped my chest and branded my nipples. The movements of her hands grew too insistent to be ignored.

I flipped her around and drove my fingers into her wetness. So ready for me, little Olive. I could take her hard that way. Break her in half.

But I needed to hear her. I swirled slick fingers over her clit, thumbing her name while she moaned mine. My other hand wandered over her tits, hanging low and ready to bounce. I pinched with one hand and stroked with the other. Her hand found my cock again and squeezed, drawing me between her ass cheeks.

My hands moved there next. Gripping. Smacking. Spreading the wetness from my fingers, from her, all over her backside. Leaning down, I licked it off. I dropped lower, licking everything I could reach.

Olive was bringing the house down now with her cries. I’d let the whole place crumble around us if only she’d come for me. I slapped and spread those cheeks, diving in with my tongue and fingers. She rode my face in a rhythm, clutching my head against her. Like I’d try to escape. Like I wanted to be anywhere but buried inside her.

Her words were a mix of curses and Korean as she unraveled. My fingers teased her clit as I sucked from behind. As she exploded with sweetness and my name on her lips.

I let myself have a lingering taste, then I stood, fisting my cock. The smile on her perfect lips was pure invitation. She was still smiling when I plunged inside her.

I wasn’t gentle. I wasn’t gentlemanly. I smacked her ass red and blotchy. I fingered her rim and tits. I fucked her fast and dirty, and Olive urged me quicker, harder. Told me whose pussy it was.

So tight. So wet. So perfect. All mine.

My eyes roamed between her bouncing tits and parted, gasping mouth as the tingling started. I watched her lips form the words, Come for me, Wyatt .

I did.

Spectacularly.

I was feeling much more centered after the shower. Now I could survive the next day or so by her side.

I joined her in the living room with a spring in my step, thinking to myself that I should have indulged in solo shower time earlier. Maybe then I wouldn’t have sniffed her neck like a bloodhound on a trail while we danced to BTS.

My friend Holly would say that I had room for improvement, and she’d be right.

“Thanks for making me a bed,” Olive said in greeting.

She was curled up on the corner of the couch, hair down and shining. Her slim shoulders were capped by the skinny straps of the barely there tank top she wore to bed. I loved and hated that white tank. On one hand, I could see everything beneath it. On the other hand, I could see everything beneath it. That tiny top blew pencil skirts out of the water and had taken root in my imagination, never, I feared, to leave.

She was burrowed under the tan throw blanket she seemed to like so much. No idea where my mom had purchased that or I would have gotten one of those for Olive for Christmas, too. Not tan, though. Her bright personality called for a sunnier color.

Dropping down on the couch, I inched into my own corner. “Thanks for making me a bedroom,” I replied. “I needed that kick in the ass. It looks so damn good, Olive.”

“It was nice to feel useful.” She leaned forward, picking up a bowl of popcorn I had smelled but not noticed. She shook the bowl, a smile on her face. “I made dinner while you were in the shower. Figured we earned a movie night. Die Hard ?”

We hadn’t gotten to that movie the night she’d arrived. Too much to talk about, then she’d fallen asleep. I’d been creepily staring at her that night, too, like I was now. She was just so pretty . So delicate, yet strong. She hadn’t needed much help moving my heavy-ass furniture and had hauled stacks of lumber in from my truck without assistance. She might be able to beat me in arm wrestling, for all I knew. Didn’t take away from the soft features of her face or the sweetness she radiated.

“I never say no to a trip to Nakatomi Tower.”

She patted the couch. “Then scooch or I’ll eat all of this. Popcorn is one of my five food groups.”

I moved closer, settling on the cushion next to her, only because she’d asked. My imagination, my body, had finally started to settle down. More closeness was the last thing I needed.

“I could take it or leave it. This bag might even be expired.”

She gasped. “Sacrilege. There’s a popcorn store in Phoenix that I’m pretty sure is only in business because of me.”

“Do you like Phoenix?” I asked. “It’s about as different from your hometown as you can get.”

I’d never been, but I imagined it was nothing but heat and brown landscapes. Seattle was green. We had seasons. Mountains.

“Love Phoenix,” Olive corrected.

Her words doused a tiny flame of hope I hadn’t realized had been burning. The spark of warmth in my chest grew cold. I shoved a handful of popcorn in my mouth to cover up my disappointment.

“I love the desert. The endless sun. The warm evenings on my balcony. The Native American and Latin food scenes are legit. Seattle is so lovely and I miss it, but Arizona is home. It’s also great for construction,” she added. “No off-season.”

Spoken like a true contractor. I couldn’t help but smile at that. I felt a rush of affection for this woman whose priorities were similar to mine.

Slinging my arm behind her, I pulled her in for a brief side hug. “Now you’re just trying to make me jealous.”

Well, the hug was meant to be brief, but Olive tucked herself into my side like she’d been waiting for the invitation. Like she was nothing but comfortable with me, which is what I’d been telling myself I wanted. My body stiffened then relaxed. Just a hug, I told myself. Just friends sharing a couch. But something in my soul fell into place as she snuggled closer.

I didn’t want her to go. I wished the weird green haze that landed her here could make a reappearance. I wanted more Olive.

“I do miss the seasons here,” she said, head on my shoulder. “And snow. I so wish it would snow before I leave.”

I checked the weather app on my phone with my free hand. “Zero percent chance, little Olive. No precipitation in sight.”

She sighed and powered down another handful of popcorn, dropping some on her chest. “Just my luck.”

I woke up upright on the couch with Olive still in my arms. I’d meant to move to my gaming chair after the movie, but apparently neither of us had made it to the end. The TV was still on, back on the menu screen.

But all I cared about, all I really registered, was Olive. Her hair was tangled in my beard. Her arms were wrapped around my waist, and mine around her curled form. Bony knees were digging into my ribs, but I didn’t give a flying fuck.

She felt good. I felt good. Like something that was missing had been found.

If only this moment were real. But the video games, home projects, and shower sex were all make-believe. Olive was leaving tonight and our time playing house would come to an end.

I extricated myself as gently as I could, but she still blinked awake when I moved out from under her.

My heart gave a thump when she smiled at me sleepily. “You’re comfy,” she said, voice rough and sleepy.

I chuckled. “So are you.” I hadn’t even needed a blanket in my cold living room with Olive wrapped around me.

She flopped back down on the couch, under the blanket, as I opened the shades that faced the lake, letting the daylight in. My hand and heart stopped at the same time. Seconds went by as I processed what I saw. What it might mean.

“Olive.” Now my voice was rough. “Come here.”

I felt her join me at the window. I tore my gaze away from the unexpected sight outside and instead watched her face as it transformed from cute and frowny to alight with wonder.

“What in the world?” she mused.

Snow covered my dock and my neighbors’ homes. The trees that lined the opposite shore were capped in white. Somehow, despite the forecast that said otherwise, snow had found her.

Olive shook her head, clearly in awe. “I can’t believe it. I’ve been dreaming about snow since I was a kid.” Glancing my way, she worried at her lip. “I swear, ever since I landed in Seattle, things have felt so…” She trailed off, like she was embarrassed to finish the thought.

Magical .

I’d had the same thought.

“Before you landed, actually. Don’t forget your plane hit Santa.”

She made a choking sound. “I wonder if this will affect my flight.”

I probably imagined the hope in her voice. Sounded like something I would do. While she dashed off to check her phone, I waited, silently hoping. Okay, silently begging, pleading , with fate to let her plane be delayed again.

“Holy shit,” she breathed, staring at the screen. “ Holy shit .”

“What?”

She wandered to the window, still glued to her phone. After more scrolling and head shaking, she handed it over. I scrolled too, taking in the headline and first few lines of the article that had grabbed her attention.

Rogue wave washes out runway at Malé .

Flights in and out of the Maldives were canceled for at least two weeks. Olive would not be leaving tonight.

Butterflies, honest to goodness butterflies, took off in my belly. For a wild second I wondered if I’d caused this catastrophe. If Olive had conjured snow like some kind of sexy magician. But then I remembered that that would be insane. We couldn’t control freak weather events by wishing.

But we could take full advantage of them.

I tried not to let a grin overtake my face. She’d lost her tropical vacation, after all, and her best friend was stranded.

Olive didn’t look upset, though. In fact, a smile, much like the one that wanted to burst out of me, lifted her lips. Her eyes held all kinds of mischief.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” I asked.

“Snow day?”

I let my grin loose. “Snow day.”