Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 61953 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61953 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
“Wow,” I whispered. The heat was on blast, and it was still cold inside from the dipping temperatures outside. “I thought our room was nice at the lodge. This is…fucking wild.”
“I feel snobby saying that I’m used to it.”
“You should feel snobby,” I said with a laugh. “It’s bananas. You’re staying here all by yourself?”
“Not anymore.” His arms came around my waist, and he pressed a kiss into my shoulder.
“I know that I’m a Wright, but that literally meant nothing to me until a few years ago. You saw my childhood home. I can barely fathom having this entire house as a second or third home. Just so you can go skiing whenever you want.”
“It was my grandfather’s land actually. He had a small hunting cabin on it.” He guided me toward the window and pointed out off into the darkness. “You can kind of make it out over there. The cabin still stands.”
“Oh, I see it! So cute. Is it still functional?”
“Well, no central heating or plumbing,” he admitted. “But otherwise, yes.”
“Brr,” I said. “Probably not for this weather.”
“No, but I used to love staying there as a kid with my grandpa. Dad had built this huge house and got pissed that I wanted to build my own fire and stay where Grandpa always stayed.”
“Sounds like your dad.”
“Yeah. Maybe we can go down there in the morning.”
“I’d like that.”
“Fire first.” He walked over to the large fireplace, where wood was stacked, and began to build the thing up. He used a lighter to coax it to life and blew on the kindling he’d used to start it.
“Boy Scout,” I chirped.
He grinned. “For many years,” he agreed. “But my grandpa taught me how to make fires. I used to build them for him in the cabin.”
“Adorable.”
“Thanks…I think?”
I tugged my jacket tighter around me and hopped from foot to foot in front of the small fire, waiting for the warmth to seep into my legs. What had I even been thinking? Well, probably that I wasn’t going to step foot outside.
He noted me shivering and pointed to the stairs. “The primary bedroom is upstairs to the left. You can find a change of clothes in the closet. You should get into something warmer.”
“I didn’t think I’d be wearing any clothes at all.”
He smirked. “Plenty of time for that. I’d prefer you not to freeze before I make you my famous hot chocolate.”
“Oh? Is it from a bag that you pour into microwaved water?”
He gagged. “Absolutely fucking not. This is Dutch chocolate and cream and fucking delicious. Go. Change.”
I smiled, loving this side of him, and then headed upstairs. I found the clothes he suggested and stripped out of my cute outfit for something a bit more practical—a blue Yale sweatshirt and black long johns. Not the sexiest thing I’d ever worn, but Chase clearly didn’t care.
In fact, as I headed back downstairs, his eyes went molten. “That’s my sweatshirt.”
“Found it where you said the clothes would be.”
He tugged me forward by the front of it and into the kitchen. “I like you in my clothes.”
I came to my tiptoes and kissed him, deep and demanding. “I like when you take them off of me.”
“That’s the plan.” He nipped at my bottom lip and then drew me toward the stove, where cream was bubbling in a pan. “It’ll be ready soon. Warmer?”
“Much,” I agreed. “I can’t believe these temperatures. I was hoping for a little snow. Not a full blizzard.”
His eyes went to the windows. “Yeah. It’s really coming down, isn’t it?”
“Guess it’s good we left when we did.”
“Indeed. Just fires, hot chocolate, and David Bowie.”
He pressed a button on his phone, and music filtered in from a hidden sound system.
“A winning combination.”
Chase finished up the hot chocolate, added marshmallows to the top, and carried both mugs over to the hearth. We cuddled up under the mountain of blankets, letting Bowie serenade us.
I took the first sip of my drink and groaned, “Holy shit.”
He smirked and nodded. “I know, right?”
“Have I been living under a rock? I thought hot chocolate was mid.”
“Another recipe from my grandpa. We always made it this way as kids. I can’t even get it from a store anymore because it doesn’t taste right.”
“This is liquid chocolate. Like if I’d fallen into Willy Wonka’s river.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
I drained my drink. Between the hot chocolate, fire, and blankets, I’d finally warmed up. I set the empty cup on the large leather ottoman, took Chase’s out of his hand, and put it next to mine.
He laughed. “I wasn’t finished.”
“Oh well,” I said with a grin.
I slid across the couch and straddled his lap. His hands landed on my ass. I ducked my head into his neck, pressing our bodies together. Just felt his heat and the solidity of him.