Kissing Jenna (Big Sky 2)

“So, I have a confession,” I say, looking around at the empty rink, the lights overhead, and everything that he had done for me.

“What’s that?”

“I can’t dance. I can’t find rhythm, and it’s not easy for me.”

He shakes his head, but I hold up my hand, stopping him so I can continue.

“But I can skate.” And with that, I push off of the snowbank and set off across the ice, loving the cold against my cheeks, and the smell of the snow as it falls lightly around me.

Christian catches up with me, wraps his arms around me, and we skate together, turning and laughing.

Laughing so hard.

“I didn’t expect this,” he says, his painfully handsome face lit up. “You’re amazing on skates.”

“Winters are long in Montana,” I remind him and then spin around. “We played on this ice all the time growing up. It’s been a couple of years.”

“It looks like you were born on it,” he replies.

“How are you so good at it?”

He just laughs and skates away from me, back to the blanket. He fiddles with something, and the next thing I know, there’s music in the air.

“Where are the speakers?”

He returns to me and pulls me against him, front to front. Our breath is coming fast and in soft puffs of air around us, and he’s gazing down at me in that way that Willa was talking about last night.

And you know what I realize? He never looked at those other women in the movies like this. He’s an excellent actor, but he didn’t look at them as if they hung the stars.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“How did you do all of this?”

His gaze flicks down to my lips, then back to my eyes. “Brad helped.”

“I always liked him best.”

He smiles and pulls me into a slow dance around the ice.

“You’re good at this, too.”

“Athletic things have always come naturally to me,” he admits as he leads me around the ice. “I’m not afraid of it. I know I can do it.”

“What are you afraid of?”

He blinks rapidly, his eyebrows pulling together slightly as he stares down at me.

“Honestly, not much. But I’m afraid of losing this, with you. Of leaving here and never having a moment like this with you again.”

Tears threaten as I press my fingers to his lips.

“We have it now,” I whisper. “And it’s so good, Christian. You’re not going to lose me after you leave. We will figure something out.”

He kisses me fiercely, then takes my hand, and we skate around the pond as fast as we can. It’s thrilling, exciting. And after the third time around, we return to the blanket.

“I have hot chocolate,” he says, breathing hard. “And we have some hot soup and sandwiches, too.”

“Oh my God, this is amazing.” I sit on the snowbank, and he passes me the goodies. “Thank you. This might be the best date I’ve ever been on.”

“Then my work here is done.”

He bows deeply, then takes a bite of a sandwich. I’ve never been treated so…well. And that’s not to say that I’ve been treated poorly in the past. It’s just that no other man has even come close to making me feel as pampered, as important as Christian has done in just the past thirty minutes.

Trust me when I say the city doesn’t pay for twinkling lights and speaker systems at this little ice rink. No, this is something Christian had done, just for this date.

And he had it catered.

“How did you know my shoe size?”

“I looked at your shoes,” he says. “And I have a confession of my own.”

“Oh, good, I can’t wait to hear this.”

He laughs and takes another bite of his sandwich. “I have a shoe fetish.”

I stop chewing and stare at him, then work on swallowing my food. “If you tell me that you want to lick my shoes while we fuck, we’re going to need to have a serious conversation. Because while I’m all for everyone having all the safe and consensual sex they want to, I’m not into anyone licking my shoes. That’s just not sanitary.”

He’s laughing, squatting in his skates because he can’t stand anymore from the laughter.

“No,” he cries out when he can breathe again. “I don’t want to lick your shoes. I might lick your feet, though.”

“That’s different altogether.”

“But I wouldn’t mind if you wore the shoes sometime when we’re making love.”

I sip my hot chocolate. “My snow boots aren’t very sexy.”

His lips twitch. “I’ve seen some pretty heels in your closet.”

“True, I do have some pretty heels. I usually only get to wear them in the summer, and it’s a treat. I like shoes, too.”

“All I’m saying is, if you should want to wear said shoes in the winter, now you have a reason.”

“It’s a pretty good reason.” A vision of Christian holding onto the heels of my shoes as he fucks me from behind enters my head, and I smile slowly.