Page 22 of SnowBound

Andy eye-fucked me and remained silent for a long beat. Heat crept up my spine as I waited for him to say something. Anything. “Abby, you started this. Do you want to drop out?”

Okay, not what I expected him to say. Not that I knew what he would reply, but this wasn’t it.

His stare weighed heavy on me. I swallowed. “Never. I never forfeit anything, Aaandy.”

His eyes twinkled. “Awesome.” He moved and broke the eye-contact. “What are you waiting for, Abby? Keep rolling.”

I did just that and kept wheeling him around to the beat of the music, losing myself in the freedom of the night.

After a few more songs, we killed the music and moved to a corner of the airport where we could be alone. I picked up snacks and sodas and set up a picnic for the two of us.

“Thanks,” I said when Andy’s focus landed on me.

“What for?”

I scanned the space around me. “All this. And making me feel alive tonight.” I shrugged. “I know it sounds lame, but I’m usually always in control. I enjoyed the liberty of just living tonight, even though it was for only a few hours. Anyway, thank you for pushing me to do things I wouldn’t have attempted by myself. And for spending the night with me.”

Andy bowed his head. “You’re welcome. And thanks for getting me away from my brooding earlier. It’s much more fun being with you than on my own, upset at the snow for ruining my plans. And for your information, I wouldn’t want to spend the night with anyone else.”

His stare stayed glued to mine, and I noticed the racing pulse point in his throat. Right now, I had no idea how to interpret his words. Something was clear, though. I loved his companionship and how he made me feel. And, for now, this was all that mattered.

In comfortable silence, we finished our food. When I moved to my feet to clean up our space, Andy’s fingers circled my wrist, and he tugged me to him until I landed on his lap.

“Hey, what are you doing?”

“Relax.” One of his palms connected with my knee, and electricity zipped through me. I blinked, trying to hide the effect just his single touch had on me. “I’m making sure you’re not leaving me here because I haven’t gotten permission to rise from this chair yet.”

His Adam’s apple worked, and the movement mesmerized me. I felt his hard chest, firm thighs, and his breaths down my neck. Why was everything about this boy affecting me so much?

Andy said nothing, eyeing me the entire time. Now I was certain of it. Dilated pupils, hastened breaths, pursed lips. All the signs were there. Still, I tried to convince myself I was reading him wrong. Maybe the whiskey I drank earlier was the cause. Or maybe not.

Thoughts raced in my head.

My blood—now as hot as scorching lava—circulated through me at a dizzying speed.

With a flimsy resolve, I locked all the sensations away when his arm looped around my waist. A part of me wanted to just lean into his embrace and melt against him. But I knew better. This was a one-night deal, nothing more. And I didn’t get to make up scenarios of what-ifs in my mind.

Looking for a way to tame the raging fire inside me and focus on anything other than the boy underneath me, I opened the bottle, downed a mouthful, and passed it to him.

It did nothing to dissolve the ache building in my lower belly. No, instead, it fueled it up. Yeah, alcohol and fire were a deadly duo, and I was paying the price.

An orchestra played a concerto deep in me. I relished the feel of Andy. Every inch of his body brushing against mine.

I took another swig, determined to loosen up against him when his fingers drummed a beat against my thigh that vibrated through my entire being.

The liquor warmed my insides, and after another chug, some of my inhibitions left me. Feeling safe and relaxed finally, I pressed myself against his chest and took pleasure in the safety he provided me. His hand, which rested on my waist, moved to my hipbone, rubbing it.

The simple gesture made me want to sink deeper into him. To spend the night in his arms. To bury my face in his chest and never leave. To envelop myself in his leather and whiskey scent.

“You really want to be a music executive?” he asked, putting to rest all the scenarios dancing in my head.

I bobbed my head. “For as long as I can remember.”

“I’m sure you’ll be good. You have that drive. I would hire you for sure as my manager.”

“Wow, thanks. I’m sure we’d make a great team.” I brought the bottle to my lips. “I already know you play the guitar. Are you also a singer?”

Andy nodded.