Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 33433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 167(@200wpm)___ 134(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 167(@200wpm)___ 134(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Sophie has a point. I did drag her into a snowbank, and I'm not fucking sorry about it, either. Tackling her to the snow to kiss the hell out of her was absolutely worth it. She may be salty about it, but she was never in any danger, not with me.
"Fine. What do you want for your prize?" I ask as we continue down behind the others, curious what she'll ask for…and a little worried she still wants me out of her life. There's no chance I'm going to let that happen. I fucking can't.
She needs a soft place, but I just need her, in a way I've never needed anything before. I'm willing to fight dirty and back her into a corner if that's what it takes to prove to her that her heart is safe with me. It will always be safe with me.
I think she knows it, even if she's running scared.
Sophie isn't the kind of woman who wastes time, and she isn't the kind who spends months talking to men either, not if it doesn't mean a damn thing. She's hurt because I matter to her.
It's driving me nuts that she didn't finish that sentence before she leaped off the lift. Was she going to say she was falling for me?
Christ, I hope so.
"You have to practice with me in the morning."
I blink at her. "What?"
"Since you think being a ballerina is so easy, you get to practice with me in the morning," she says. "Leotard and all."
Jesus Christ.
"They don't even make leotards to fit me, Sophie."
"Oh, but they do."
I should tell her no. I know damn well I should, because I know her well enough by now to know this is not going to be that simple. There will be pain and suffering involved far beyond a damn leotard. She's going to make me pay for that goddamn article until I regret every word of it.
But if I refuse, I'm basically proving to her that I'm not willing to fight for her…and that's not something I'm willing to do. If she wants to parade me around in a fucking leotard until she's convinced I'm sorry, fuck it. I'll play her game.
My masculinity isn't that fragile. It can handle a few hours of humiliation at her hands. But I want something, too.
"Fine, but I get a prize since you cheated your way to first place."
She narrows her eyes at me. "What do you want?"
"I want you to have dinner with me tonight, just the two of us," I murmur, my voice soft. "It doesn't have to be anything more than that, but I want one date, ballerina."
"And then you'll practice with me tomorrow?" she asks, her steps slowing as we pass the lifts.
"That's the deal."
"Fine." She squints up at me, her lips pursed. "But if you think I'm sleeping with you just because you buy me dinner, you're wrong, Captain."
"You won't be sleeping with me because I buy you dinner, Sophie," I say, leaning in so only she hears me. "When you decide to sleep with me, it won't be because I bought you a steak. It'll be because you ache so fucking bad for just the thought of my cock that you can't stand not having me inside you. It'll be because you need me to make you come more than you need to breathe, ballerina."
Her body sways toward mine, and I groan, desperate to kiss her again right here and now. But I don't. Instead, I step back, trying to be patient. She doesn't fully trust me yet. I need to prove that she can.
And then I can fuck her sideways.
"You ready to ski again?" I ask.
"Hell no," she groans. "I hate skiing."
"Then why…" I trail off, shaking my head. "Never mind. I'm not even going to ask." I'm pretty sure the answer will only stress me out anyway.
"You bet me," she says with a shrug. "I have older brothers, Harlan. I never turn down a bet."
I was right. That answer does stress me out. Jesus Christ.
"You're terrifying," I say, not even joking a little bit.
"Thank you," she says, proud of herself.
I shake my head, chuckling.
A few feet beyond the lifts, Sidney is dusting snow off Hattie, who looks like she wiped out all the way down the mountain. But her face is lit up like a damn Christmas tree, though.
She sees us and immediately waves.
"We're heading back to the lodge," I murmur. "Sophie is done for the day."
Hattie pouts, but Sidney must see something on Sophie's face—or hell, on mine—because he immediately jumps in to distract my sister, allowing me to escape with his.
I steer us around to the opposite side of the van and help her in before I climb in after, setting our skis in the rack.
Sophie's shivering so hard, her teeth clack together.