Page 64 of A Snowy Escape

Jesus.

She’s beautiful.

“Ahh,” she squeals. “This is about to be so good.”

* * *

The movie is, in fact, really fucking cheesy.

I don’t mind a bit.

The longer it plays, the closer Abby gets until she pulls her legs up onto the couch, stretching out as she leans against my chest.

I spend way more time watching her than I do what’s playing out on the screen, but I try to follow along well enough that we can discuss the flimsy plot if it comes up later.

Though it takes a while, I get brave and pull my arm off the back of the couch, resting my hand on her thigh.

Goddamn.

I wish I understood what her scent means. Stormy and electric aren’t words I’ve heard anyone use when describing what someone smells like.

The longer I touch her, the warmer I feel. It’s hard to explain, but it’s almost like I’ve had three or four beers. That tipsy feeling where you’re loving life while also not being drunk.

That can’t be normal, right?

I listened when my dads explained what it was like when they met my mom. None of what they mentioned during those talks sounds like what I experience with Abby.

The omega in question snuggles closer to my chest, sliding her hand under mine on her thigh. I smile as I interlink our fingers, but the grunting and groaning from the TV catches my attention, and I quirk an eyebrow.

Damn.

Those reindeer shifters are taking that chick to pound town.

Abby snorts, pulling a hand up to block her face. She peeks through her fingers, and it’s obvious that she’s interested, even if she wants to pretend to be sweet and innocent. “Wow, she’s very bendy.”

“No kidding.” My head tilts as I blink at the screen. “I’m not entirely sure legs are supposed to bend that way.”

I could totally ask if she’s not flexible. Maybe add in a comment about stretching being your best friend before an orgy, but I’m trying to be respectful of whatever is growing between us.

“Mine sure don’t.” Abby snorts. “I think it helps that she’s super tall, or maybe I’m just out of shape.”

“You’re in perfect shape,” I assure her.

Before I can say anything else, Lawson drags a sleepy-looking Luka into the living room.

“Oh shit,” Abby whispers, rolling over onto me.

At first, I have no idea what’s happening. Her tits smoosh against my chest, and she grabs the remote, pausing the show.

I snort. “I don’t necessarily think that helped.”

The TV is now paused on a side-view shot of the main character on her back on the bed. One guy’s hand is wrapped around her thigh as they give what amounts to a soft-core porn shot of him eating her out.

Another of the guys kneels next to her on the opposite side from the camera. He caresses her cheek tenderly, and the actress fakes being in the throes of passion well.

Luka takes a few steps into the room and turns, bursting out laughing. “Next time, wake me up if we’re watching porn.”

“Don’t be an idiot.” Law follows him in, smacking his brother on the back of the head.