“Fan-fucking-tastic,” he drawled. “It’s amazing what a good blowjob will do for you.”
I let out a half laugh. “I didn’t give you a blowjob.”
“Guess you owe me one.”
I didn’t have to look at him to know he was giving me his patent mischievous eyebrow waggle. I chuckled. So much for good intentions. Liam was too hard to resist.
“Maybe I do,” I hummed.
“Boner alert, boner alert. Commence abrupt subject change.” He straightened his arms and made a squealing burn-out noise as he turned his pretend steering wheel sharply to his right.
I tried not to laugh, but it was pretty funny. “I’m skiing with a teenager. I don’t think I’ve had enough coffee for you yet.”
“Here. This was for you anyway.” He unscrewed the cap and handed over his thermos. “Catch up, man. I’ve been awake for hours. I’m so wired on caffeine, I’m gonna whip down that mountain like Speedy Gonzales.”
I slowed at the stop sign and sipped the coffee gratefully. I’d had more than my fair share too, but I was happy to have an excuse to pull my thoughts together. I handed it back to him, then continued up the hill, turning into the ski resort’s half-empty parking lot. I had to tell him. I just wasn’t sure how much honesty was required.
I pulled my keys from the ignition and grabbed Liam’s sleeve just as he opened the door, interrupting his spiel about which runs to tackle first.
“Hey, um…real quick. I don’t want to slow you down at all. If at any point you want to ski ahead, I won’t be offended. I can meet you at—”
“No. I’m with you.” He furrowed his brow as he smoothed his thumb over my jaw, lowering his eyes briefly before meeting mine. “I can ski any time on my own. But this is the first time I’ve ever been with you. So, you set the pace. I’ll follow.”
I grabbed his wrist. “I might be too…slow.”
“That’s okay. I don’t mind.” Liam pulled me toward him and kissed me just as I opened my mouth to tell him why I was a bad bet on the slopes. He licked the seam of my lips, pushing his tongue inside. Damn, he was good at that. I closed my eyes and felt my shoulders relax as I leaned into the connection. He nipped my jaw and pulled back. “If I go too fast, tell me. You ready?”
I nodded mutely, sending a quick prayer to whichever guardian angel was in charge of preventing broken limbs: Please don’t let me do anything stupid. And please…don’t let me wind up on the five o’clock news.
“Yeah. I’m ready.”
Fuck. Me. Skiing sucked.
Before we’d even reached the lifts, my knees were sore, and my shins were aching where the rental boots dug into them. Oh yeah, and it was cold. But according to my chipper companion, the sun was shining, the powder was perfect, and our timing couldn’t have been better. We had the mountain to ourselves.
I liked that idea. I needed a few runs on the beginner slopes for a refresh; then I’d be ready to move on to the intermediate action. Liam didn’t agree.
“The bunny slope?” he repeated incredulously, cocking his head in confusion. “This isn’t your first time, is it?”
“No, but it’s been a few years. I think smaller inclines are the way to go till I get my bearings.”
“Wrong. The bunny slope is for kids and adults who’ve never been on skis. You don’t belong there. It’s a waste of time, and every minute counts at this time of day. We need to get to the higher elevations while there aren’t as many people out.”
“Okay, but—”
“Trust me, Drew. I’m very, very good at this. I told you we’ll take it slow. I won’t push too hard or ask you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.”
“I can’t tell if we’re talking about skiing or sex,” I joked.
Liam ripped his sunglasses off and shot a naughty, sexy grin at me. “Are you trying to give me Alpine wood?”
We stared at each other for a second, then busted up laughing.
“I’m sorry. I have a bad habit of making sex jokes when I’m nervous, and call me crazy, but flying down a mountain on two thin pieces of metal makes me especially nervous since I barely survived the last time and—never mind.” I sighed heavily as I trudged toward the nearest lift.
Liam bumped my arm as he came to stand beside me in front of a giant map of the terrain. “What happened last time?”
“A tree jumped up out of nowhere and knocked me on my ass,” I grumbled.
“Ouch. How serious?”
“Not too bad. I got off with a sprained ankle and wounded pride, but five years later, I’m still a little gun-shy.”
“I can tell. You said ‘ass,’ and ‘got off,’ and I’m guessing ‘gun-shy’ is your metaphor for a limp dick. That tree really messed with your head, eh?”