New Year Second Chance

Stupid Jenna.

I tear my gaze away from my reflection and walk towards the kitchen.

At least now I know. I know that if I can’t kiss Dax without feeling anything, I definitely can’t have sex with him and get away still whole. So yeah, no sex. Not until I know what I’m willing to give up, what I’m ready to give up, which means I have to do a better job of resisting Dax, exhausting as it is.

I know I can.

I open the door to the kitchen. At least, I think it’s the kitchen, but as I look inside and see the black and silver equipment lined up on one side of the room, I realize it’s the gym.

This lodge has a gym? Cool.

Then I see Dax just getting off the treadmill. Not cool.

As he walks over to me, I find myself unable to avert my gaze from the firm muscles of his chest and abdomen bulging through the shirt that’s sticking to him like a second skin, damp with sweat. The same sweat gives a sheen to his chiseled features. The scent reaches my nostrils.

Hot.

Shit. He’s not going to make this easy, is he?

“Anything wrong?” Dax asks as he stops in front of me.

Everything is wrong. The fact that Dax seems to have grown even more buff since I last saw him. The fact that such a perfect body belongs to the man who broke my heart. The fact that I want to tear that shirt off him right now.

My pulse is racing like I’m the one who just worked out. My skin feels warm. My mind is a jumble. I feel my will to resist Dax shrink to the size of a pea.

Of all the rooms in the house, why did I have to walk into this one at this time?

“Jenna?” Dax pulls my gaze to his.

“I’m fine.” I try to sound as normal as I can. “I was just wondering if you’ve had breakfast.”

Play it cool, Jenna. Take control.

“No,” he answers. “Are you making?”

I hold my shoulders square. “Yeah. It’s only fair since you made dinner last night.”

Shit. Why did I have to bring up last night?

“You don’t have to,” Dax tells me as he runs his towel through his hair.

Is he doing that on purpose?

“I can do it,” I say confidently.

That’s right, Jenna. Act completely immune to his charms.

“How many strips of bacon do you want?”

“How many are you going to cook?” he asks back.

Really? Is he going to make this difficult, too?

“I’m asking how many strips of bacon you want me to cook for you,” I tell him.

“And I’m saying you can decide,” Dax tells me. “After all, I did promise not to ask anything of you.”

I frown. “I’m the one asking.”

He grips the hem of his shirt and lifts it to wipe his chin.

“Three strips should be enough to satisfy my appetite. I’m not a hard man to please, after all.”

He is doing this on purpose.

What’s this? A new tactic to seduce me? Using his body instead of his words? Teasing instead of being direct?

Fuck me. It’s working.

I tear my gaze away from his six pack. “Fine.”

I turn on my heel. I have to escape from this room. Now.

“Jenna,” he calls after me.

“What?” I step out of the room and glance at him.

“I was thinking we should go skiing today,” Dax says. “We’re at a ski resort, after all.”

My eyebrows crease. “I thought you said we weren’t going to go skiing.”

“Well, thanks to that bit of a storm last night, we’ve got lots of fresh snow today. Perfect for skiing,” Dax says. “Besides, would you rather be holed up here with me all day?”

“No,” I answer quickly.

He grins.

I guess we’re going skiing. Heaven help me.

As I walk to the kitchen, I let out a sigh. I’m beginning to think I shouldn’t have come here after all.

~

“I am never going skiing again,” I tell Dax as we walk through the village after an hour on the slopes, which was all I could stand.

In spite of the fact that I’m tall and lean, I’ve never been the athletic type. I didn’t do basketball or volleyball. I was in Little League, yeah, but I never really got into baseball. If I had to name my sport, I’d say it’s table tennis.

Skiing is much harder than table tennis. I could barely move in my thick clothes, which hardly did anything to keep me warm. Even now, my teeth are still chattering and my cheeks still feel numb. Also, I could barely see past the goggles fitted over my glasses. And the skis were just too damn long. Needless to say, I fell a few times, usually ungracefully. My legs and feet don’t hurt now, but I have a feeling they will.

“Well, you haven’t really tried skiing yet,” Dax tells me.