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She laughs harder until she can barely speak. “You said we need a small ball for head. Get it?”
She laughs until she snorts while I nod and purse my lips. “You know, Savannah, I think you’ve become immature and childish in our time together. In the same time, I’ve grown into a bigger person that would never make a ball joke.”
She straightens up and stops laughing. “I’ve been a good influence on you, and you’ve been a bad influence on me, Wilder Lynx.”
I flex my jaw and force my lips into a tight line. “I’ll show you bad influence,” I growl, bending and picking up a wad of snow.
“Oh, shit!” she squeals, turning and taking off at a sprint. Well, as much of a sprint that the heavy snow around her ankles and shins will allow.
Snow flies up like spittle from the ground as her boots crunch through the snow. She runs in a zig zag, but I still nail her in the back with a snowball. Her laughter rings through the air, and the birds in the trees take flight as I take off after her.
My legs are longer and stronger from hiking, so it takes only a few seconds for me to catch up to her. I could grab her hood or her scarf and pull her back, but I wait until I can get my arms around her for a full tackle. I don’t worry about hurting her because the snow cushions our fall, and we roll around as she struggles and laughs against my chest.
I pin her to the ground with my legs and hold her arms above her head while placing kisses all over her face. “Did…you…really…think…you…could…outrun…me?” I taunt, kissing her between each word.
She laughs under me and squirms. “You’re turning me on with the squirming,” I say, running my tongue up her face and tasting the salt of her skin. “You know how much I love to make you squirm under me.”
Heat blossoms on her cheeks, and I look up at the windows nearby, wondering if we could get away with a quick fuck in the snow, even if it would be uncomfortable. She takes my hat off and throws it nearby. Gripping my hair, she brings my mouth down to hers. There will be no quick fuck in the snow, but I’m going to kiss the shit out of her.
The whiteness of the snow against her rosy cheeks and red nose combine to make me lose my breath. She’s stunningly gorgeous as she laces her fingers between mine and lets me hold her hands down again.
I kiss her hungrily, and we breathe into each other as we taste each other and enjoy the sensation of cold weather and the heat between us. I’m surprised steam doesn’t rise off our bodies.
She pulls back first and finds my eyes. “I never thanked you for taking care of me when I was sick.”
I kiss the tip of her nose. “How do you want to thank me, Savannah?”
Her eyes flick to the abandoned snowman behind me, and she bites her lip like she’s thinking. While she thinks, I push my legs between hers and raise and lower her arms in a straight line. “What are you doing?” she asks, chuckling.
“I’m making sure you get that snow angel in before we get up and move inside for warmer activities.”
She giggles again but lets me push her arms and legs in perfect snow angel movements until I crawl off her and offer her a hand to pull her up. Once she’s on her feet, she looks back and frowns at the ground. “What’s wrong?” I ask. “Do you not like your snow angel?”
“It looks like…well, it looks like someone held me down and forced me to make a snow angel.”
“Want me to hold you down while we do other things?”
“No,” she mumbles, resting her head on my cheek as I wrap my arms around her. “But I’d love for you to run your hands through my hair while I suck you dry. Remember, I want to thank you.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” I chuckle, picking her up like I picked her up a couple weeks ago to place her into the tub.
I mumble an apology at the half-finished snowman and kick the door open to take my librarian to her bed. As I stomp up the stairs, Savannah giggling in my arms before I throw her over my shoulder like she’s a sack of potatoes, I know I’ll have a hard time getting her out of my head next month.
February 14 - Wilder
I smooth my hair back in the mirror, wanting to look good for her and our last night together.
Last night together. Those words romp around in my head like jumping beans, and I stare at myself in the mirror, trying to understand what about those words bothers me.
A knock at the bathroom door pulls my attention away from my reflection, and I turn as Savannah pushes the door open. I’m only wearing a towel around my waist, but there’s certainly no shyness between us now. She smiles and approaches me, running her hand down my naked spine.
“Are you excited for dinner?” she asks, her voice husky, like she’s on the verge of crying.
My hands itch to touch her face and show her it’ll all work out, but I can’t. I’ll cry, and that’s a weird thing for me to think. I don’t fucking cry, especially over a woman.
In every single cuffing season of my past, this was a night of fun because I knew I was leaving the next day. There were drinks, lots of kissing, lots of sex, and I fell asleep with the knowledge that I’d pack up my things and hit the road the next day.
I wish I owned a time machine to go back to October when I met Savannah and relive the entire cuffing season with her. When I reach February fifteenth, I’ll go back again, like a four-month-long Ground Hog Day experience. I’d experience everything with her over and over until the end of time, and I hate that tonight is the last time we’ll go to dinner, the last time I’ll be inside of her, the last time she’ll moan my name against my jaw, and the last time she’ll fall asleep next to me, her steady breath lulling me to sleep.
