Sleighed Into Her Cookie

003: Too hot

ASPEN



That was ridiculous. There was no way the silly wish I’d made at the airport was coming true. This wasn’t a Hallmark movie where some poorly timed wish turns into a montage of happy coincidences. This was my life and historically, wishes and I had a ninety-nine percent failure rate.

I didn’t even realize how deep I’d spiraled into that thought until a shadow moved close, then closer, then way too close.

Arsen stepped into my personal space like he owned the deed to it, and every coherent thought I’d collected promptly disappeared into the snow. My breath snagged and my chest tightened. He was right there, looking tall and overall overwhelming. I could feel the heat of him spilling into every inch of cold air between us.

Before I could back up or form the beginning of a protest, his hand lifted and his fingertips brushed my cheek.

Barely a touch, but it hit me like someone pulled a fire alarm inside my ribcage. My pulse tripped over itself and my breath fumbled. And when he angled my face up toward him, guiding me with a gentleness that absolutely did not match the hurricane happening in my body, I forgot how to function.

Despite myself, I looked up and I realised what a fatal mistake that was, because now I was staring into his eyes, and they looked dark and unreal, the kind of eyes a sane person would look away from.

My thoughts scattered. Was I supposed to focus on his eyes? His hand on my cheek? The fact that my knees felt like someone had swapped them with warm noodles?

Dammit. Dammit, dammit, dammit. Why did he have to be Grayson’s uncle?

Like, genuinely, why? Who was in charge of writing my life’s script, and why were they obsessed with producing the world’s messiest love pentagram?

Arsen’s thumb swept lightly along my cheekbone, and I swear my soul tried to exit my body. “Tell me, Aspen,” he murmured, his voice low yet warm enough to melt the snow around us. Would you slap me if I kissed you?,”

“NO!” I said, except it came out too abrupt.

His gaze dipped to my mouth for a fraction of a second, but I felt it everywhere. I felt like a spark was skimming across my skin. I swallowed hard, and that made it worse because his eyes followed the movement like it physically pained him not to touch more of me. His hand on my cheek was already tender in a way that made my chest twist.

“I shouldn’t…” I managed, even though I didn’t finish the sentence. Even though I didn’t pull away.

His voice dropped even lower. “Why?”

‘Because you’re my ex’s uncle. Because this is chaos. Because I am chaos. Because you're the kind of terrible idea that ends with emotional casualties and me crying in a pillow.”

But none of that came out. Instead, I whispered, “You’re trouble.”

He smiled, aching my cheek upwards and leaning in closer. So, I can’t kiss you?” he whispered, brushing his lips gently against mine and just like that, I knew I was in serious, irreparable, catastrophic danger.

aH, f**k me, a little kiss never hurt anyone, right?

I press myself on tiptoe and wrap my arms around Arsen’s wide shoulders like my body decided it was done waiting for my brain to catch up.

His breath stutters the second I touch him and then everything happens at once.

Arsen’s hands slide around my waist, pulling me flush against him like he’s afraid I’ll vanish if he doesn’t hold me tight enough. The kiss starts soft, exactly like he wants to taunt me for taking too long to decide.

And, the kiss should have ended there, for it was after all, a lapse in judgement. Except the moment my lips move against his, something snaps between us.

Arsen’s grip on me tightens and a soft, low sound rumbles in his chest, half-groan, half-curse, like he’s been holding back for years and finally got permission to breathe again. His mouth claims mine with a hunger that knocks every thought out of my head. His hand comes up to cup the back of my neck, the pad of his thumb tracing the line of my jaw like he needs my face in his hands, needs my mouth on his, needs all of me pressed right where I am.

I gasp, and he takes full advantage of it.

His tongue slides against mine, slow at first, then demanding, like he’s tasting me, learning me, losing himself in me one second at a time. My fingers curl into his coat, dragging him closer, anchoring myself to him because my knees are officially unreliable.

Snow crunches under our shifting feet as he turns us, guiding me back until my spine hits the cold wood of the lodge’s exterior. The shock of the cold makes me gasp again, and Arsen swallows that sound like it belongs to him.

His body pins mine there, and the pressure of him… God. My brain whites out for a second. His hand slides from my waist, over the curve of my hip, gripping me like he’s memorizing the shape of me. Not pulling, not pushing, just holding. Just wanting me.

The kiss grows rougher, feral and more desperate. Every time he drags his mouth over mine, every deep stroke of his tongue, every breathless sound I make against him, all crash together into something that feels like free-falling and I’m dropping straight into him.

His lips break from mine only long enough for him to breathe a desperate, ragged whisper against my mouth. “Aspen… please.”

My heart slams into my ribs. He presses his forehead to mine, his breath shaky, his voice low and wrecked in a way that makes heat bloom down my spine.

“Let me take you to bed.” His words aren’t a command. They’re a plea, a confession of an unravelling man.

And the worst part? I’m unraveling too.