Page 24 of SnowBound

He shrugged. “You’ll never know.”

His arm wrapped tighter around me, and I couldn’t help touching him. My fingertip traced a pattern on his forearm. He shifted on his chair but didn’t lean away.

“You’re ticklish?” It sounded more like a question than an affirmation. I heard his sharp intake of air in response as I drew more figures on his bare skin. “I have an idea. Close your eyes.”

“Not that again.”

“Behave. For once. I’ll write words on your forearm, and you gotta guess what they are.”

He did as I asked and extended his right arm, the one not wound around me.

O-X-Y-G-E-N.

Goosebumps popped under the pad of my finger, and I grooved on the feel of them.

“Oxygen,” Andy murmured, not opening his eyes.

“One more.”

W-H-I-S-K-E-Y.

“Are we playing Scrabble? What’s with the high-point letters?”

“Spell it.”

“Whiskey,” he said, his lids still shut and his voice soft.

“Your turn.”

“Abby, close your eyes,” he said. His fingers sent delicious shivers all through me when he traced letters on my thigh.

For a second, I believed he spelled kiss me and held my breath because right now that was the only thought swirling in my mind. Until I replayed the movements of his fingers and realized what he really wrote. “K. I. S. M. E. T. Kismet?”

“Yeah. I think our meeting wasn’t a fluke.” He shrugged. “Let me try again.” His fingertips returned to their task.

“K. A. R. A. O. K. E. Karaoke? Trying to score high? Are we still playing Scrabble?”

“It felt like something you might enjoy. Ever done it?”

“Once. I had a blast. Music is our common ground.”

“It’s just a part of it,” Andy said.

And my heart jumped around in my chest when he said it. In distracted motions, I kept running my finger over his flesh while he squirmed underneath me.

“Wanna test something?”

He grinned. “With you? It always feels like a trap. Why is that?”

“Stop overthinking. Can you stay still if I do this?” My digit traced the length of his jaw.

He closed his eyes.

“You move, you lose.”

His entire body hardened, and his breathing hastened, but he stayed motionless.

I followed the column of his throat, the curve of his collarbones, the length of his arm. I felt each of the shivers running through him, but not once did Andy move. Or open his eyes. His tongue swept his lips. His eyelashes fluttered.