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  And his eyes—his eyes—

  “Come for me,” Chase pants.

  I yelp as he pushes one leg closer to my chest. His palm cuffs my thigh, forcing it down so that his thumb can find my clit. With slow, maddening strokes he pools all of that pleasure in me as his thrusts become rougher. Harder. As he takes me, until his skin glistens with sweat and each huff of his breath warms my flesh.

  It’s too much pleasure, far too much, the overwhelming force of his thrusts and the skillful rub at my clit.

  “I—”

  In all of it, all the heat and the movement and the want, his eyes fix me still. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you, Brooke. Come for me.”

  He’s right. I do scream his name.

  It makes his grip tighten at my leg, and forces a groan from his mouth. “Fuck …”

  His thrusts roughen, his rhythm becoming ragged. A look comes over his face—a tight-wound concentration—and with a grunt I could lose myself in he pushes himself into me, all the way to the hilt.

  I can feel him twitching as he comes deep inside of me, and I can’t help but whimper.

  Everything seems slow. Washed up together on the edge of pleasure we lie tangled. Chase’s weight rests heavy over me. His face presses against my ear. In the sudden quiet of the room our breaths are loud in this soft, close world.

  Aching, still glowing with pleasure, I nuzzle into Chase’s hand before I fully realize what it means. His fingers have curled into my hair, his thumb sweeping gently over my curls.

  Maybe Chase notices it at the same moment as me. It must have been a mistake. With sudden resolve he pushes up, disentangling his legs from mine and lurching for the edge of the bed, one hand checking the base of his cock.

  He doesn’t say anything before he goes.

  I’m left there, panting and spent, so pleasure-wrecked that I can hardly think. I don’t want to think. It’s simpler, to have only the ache between my thighs and the tingle over my skin.

  Chase comes back. Maybe that should surprise me. He clicks the door shut after him, and for a moment we just look at each other.

  What do I say? What does he say? What do we say, after that?

  “Not serious,” Chase murmurs as he flicks off the light.

  18

  I don’t know what I expected from Chase in the morning after, but it wasn’t this. I wake up with him leaning over me, his legs already over the edge of the bed.

  “Morning.” His grin is cocky, and instead of pulling away when I look at him he stays right where he is, so close that I can see each tiny fleck of bright-bold gold in his irises. “You feeling okay?”

  I test the movement of my legs. “Sore.”

  Chase rumbles a laugh, one arm snaking down so that he can grab at my ass. “My pleasure.”

  I roll my eyes, and the smile feels so natural. This feels so natural. Just us, being normal together. I expected the sky to fall, and now …

  Just two adults, having fun. We’re friends, aren’t we? Friends. And this is fine. No expectations. No way of getting hurt.

  Chase’s voice pulls me from my thoughts, muffled by his T-shirt.

  “Hanne knows. She walked in last night to check on you.”

  “And got an eyeful of your junk?” I’m proud of myself for how casual I sound.

  Chase huffs humor. “Nothing she hasn’t seen before.” The other words come smoothly as he tugs on his jeans and fiddles with the button. “We’ve all done a few naked snow runs in our time.”

  Something untangles in my chest. Of course, it wouldn’t have mattered whatever Chase said. Not serious. It’s none of my business what he’s done.

  There’s silence for a moment. I should be getting up, shouldn’t I? But it’s all I can do to push myself up against the pillows, tucking the sheets around my chest. The things I should say are dry in my mouth. Not that I know what they are.

  I’ve never been so glad for how matter-of-fact Chase is. His socks balled in one hand he tilts his head toward the door. “I’m going to make coffee. You want eggs with it?”

  Chase Austin is making me breakfast. Chase Austin, my teenage crush. Chase Austin, the man I just had mind-blowing sex with.

  “Yeah?” I’m so surprised that it has the slight upward twinge of a question. “I’ll have a shower and be out in a minute.”

  Chase nods, giving the door frame a rap with his knuckles. “Sure thing.”

  He goes, leaving me alone in the tangled sheets.

  Under the shower I let my head tilt down, my brow pressed to the tiles, and breathe very slowly. The water strokes soothingly over my hair and caresses like a lover down over my skin.

  All this time I thought fucking Chase would screw everything up, and now it’s fine. Why was I so worried? It’s not like I’m a nun. I had one or two casual flings in college. Peter wasn’t the beginning of my sex life. I can handle this. This is exactly what I want to handle. Simple, straightforward. Friends with benefits with Chase Austin—what could be better?

  Before I leave my room I tap out a quick teaser message to Alex, ignoring the frantic repeated buzz of her you better tell me!!!! as I head out.

  I have a moment of hesitation before I open the door, but Hanne acts as if nothing has happened.

  “Eat,” she says, pushing me toward the table. “You’ve got a flight to catch this afternoon, remember?”

  And just like that, I don’t feel hungry.

  I knew I was leaving today. Of course I knew. But still something twists in my stomach and hurts in my chest. I look at Hanne’s tangled bedhead and Chase’s broad shoulders in front of the stove, and I don’t want to go at all.

  “I’ll warn you—I’m famous for my eggs.” Chase’s voice tugs me out of my reverie.

  “Famously bad,” Hanne snorts, but she scampers over to the table to grab her cutlery and clack it about like a child.

  “She who insults the chef goes hungry,” Chase intones.

  He gives me a wink as he slides over my plate, and somehow my appetite comes back.

  “Honesty is a virtue,” Hanne sniffs. She’s quickly placated by her eggs. We must all be hungry—it doesn’t feel awkward as we focus on eating, the only sound for a while the clack of cutlery and the repeated slosh of liquid into my mug as I pour myself one sweet black coffee after another.

  It’s Hanne who breaks the magic, casting me a sidelong smirk. “You know, the last time I saw Chase make a girl breakfast, a Bush was president.”

  Before Chase would have pushed back. He did when Hunter made a comment. But this time he only snorts toward the egg he’s coaxing onto a slice of toast. “Junior, not senior.”

  “Dinosaurs walked the Earth,” Hanne whispers to me.

  I’m surprised to see that Chase is still grinning, even if he does wave his toast dismissively toward her. His tone is loving. “Fuck off, Hanne.”

  Hanne sniffs, not really bothering to put much effort into acting offended. “You can’t hate me for the truth.”

  I’m smiling, but something inside of me hurts. Fooling around with them just reminds me how much I don’t want to leave them. Not Hanne, not Chase. Not that anything’s happening with him, anyway. But I still want to see him again. What girl wouldn’t want to see a guy who fucks like that?

  It’s too much to think about. I try a brighter smile for Hanne. “You’re not going to drop out of visiting me in Mammoth, right? We have a spare room.”

  Hanne gives me a look I can’t read before her eyes flick to Chase. It takes her a few seconds to swallow her mouthful of toast.

  “You haven’t told her.”

  I blink as I look between them. Neither Chase’s sudden impassivity nor Hanne’s suspicion reveal much. “Told me what?”

  Hanne snorts and waves her fork toward Chase. “This is a new depth of dysfunctionality even for you.”

  My stomach twists into a knot. I can feel my smile faltering. “What’s a new depth?”

  Chase spears an innocent chunk of egg with his fork. “Oh. Yeah.
That.”

  Despair makes Hanne snort. “Jesus, Chase.” She reaches out to pat my hand as she looks back to me. “You’re coming to the filming in February.”

  “If you want to,” Chase says placidly to his coffee.

  Oh. My. God.

  Hanne presses her finger to my open jaw. “You’re going to catch flies.”

  Chase tries to make his glance casual. It doesn’t work. The fix of his eyes is too strong to mine. All of last night hangs between us, the heat and the hunger.

  “Do you still want to?”

  It’s all too much to process. What Chase and I did together last night. The fact that he’s going to be my colleague for another few months. Knowing that he finally let Hanne and JJ bring me along.

  There’s only one thing I know.

  “Yes. I’m coming.”

  Hanne beams at me. “Of course you are. It’s going to be epic.”

  I can hardly see her. The pull of Chase’s eyes is magnetic.

  He’s the one who breaks our stare.

  “I’m going to head back and get changed. Brooke, I’ll pick you up at two.”

  He doesn’t leave me time to argue.

  It doesn’t escape me that this is the perfect reverse of how Chase and I met. We’re traveling to the airport, not away from it.

  And this time, I let him take me.

  Chase insists on carrying my bags out to the big black SUV. As he tucks them neatly into the trunk I find my place in the passenger seat, running my hands carefully over the leather. It’s a seriously nice car. Like something Alex’s dad would drive.

  Alex, whose last text to me read:

  I KNOW WHAT YOU DID <3 <3 <3

  The car’s a stick shift, but Chase doesn’t seem to have any trouble with it. He wordlessly settles himself in the driver seat, the radio playing a muted dance track as he pulls out onto the main road. He’s looking good, his jacket thrown over the back seat to reveal his T-shirt with the tattoo snaking out from under it. The flop of his hair is held back by his sunglasses.

  Chase. Chase Austin. The world’s most famous snowboarder. A celebrity with a seven-figure paycheck. The guy I’ve worshipped since I was a teenager, and last night he had his face between my thighs.

  The guy who decided he did want me to come film with him, after all.

  “You okay?”

  I find a smile and nod. “Yeah.”

  And I am. Aren’t I?

  I don’t know why he didn’t tell me sooner. I don’t know why he changed his mind. Maybe Hanne and JJ wore him down. I mean, they probably did. But it doesn’t matter, because Chase wouldn’t let anyone force him to do anything he didn’t want to do.

  It feels comfortable, being together. Too comfortable to risk talking about it. Better to just be quiet and enjoy it. Chase turns up the radio with a flick of his fingers, and I relax as he drives us deftly over the salted roads. It’s warm, and I unwrap my scarf and snuggle back into the seat.

  I feel safe here, with him, as we weave down from the mountains. It’s like when we ride on the snow together. Wordless, we fit perfectly. A silent understanding.

  It is what it is, and that’s great.

  “You know, we can talk about it.”

  I look over with a guilty start. Chase doesn’t meet my eyes. He’s waiting to pull onto the highway, drumming his fingers over the wheel as he watches other cars go past.

  “I should have told you about Dinkler. I just …” He shrugs, still without turning his face. “Last night doesn’t have to happen again if it makes you uncomfortable.” He smoothly pulls out, the neat movements of his hand working up through the gears as we gain speed. I can see the muscles of his forearm sliding under his skin, strength and control working in tandem.

  Chase’s voice is so calm. He tilts me a look as he settles into the fast lane, the speedometer rising steadily. “But I had a good time. I hope you did, too.”

  At that I have to laugh, and it’s easy then to reach out and bump his fingers on the stick shift with my own. “Yeah. I guess you could say that.”

  “I guess.” Chase slants his grin at me. “Chase, Chase, Chase—”

  I interrupt his parody of my voice with a poke to his ribs. “Okay, okay. It was good.” I hope he can’t see my blush.

  Chase doesn’t gloat, though. Instead he looks back out at the road, his expression haunted by the edge of a smile.

  “Yeah,” he says over the steady bass beat from the radio, distant as if he doesn’t talk to me at all. “It was good.”

  After that we don’t talk. Or rather, we don’t talk about it. Chase runs through some admin for the trip—that he’ll text me with details of meeting up in Canada. What I’ll need to bring. What Dinkler is like to work with.

  We don’t discuss anything between us, and that works for me.

  At the airport he insists on parking in short term instead of just dropping me off. He carries all of my bags easily as well as his own backpack, and I trail him to the departure desks, watching how he moves. How people notice him. I see a few people point, and for a moment I’m blown away by it.

  “Brooke?” Chase lets my stuff down gently once we reach the queue.

  I pull together a smile, catching up. I’m not sure how close to each other we’re meant to stand. I settle on “friends,” taking one strap from him and worrying it with my thumbnail. “I’m fine. I was just—”

  “You get used to it.” Chase shrugs, his grin turning wry. “At least I’m not a footballer, right? Then I’d have cameras chasing me.” His elbow bows out to check mine. “They’ll be looking at you, soon. Miss Illuminations-winner.”

  I laugh. “Yeah, right.”

  Chase just shrugs. “You deserve it.” He says it like it’s an obvious truth. Like he believes it.

  I don’t know what to say.

  Chase waits as I check my bags in, insisting on lifting each of them onto the weight scale. I’m jealous of how easy he seems. How thoughtlessly he moves in and out of my space, and how he doesn’t hesitate when our fingers brush as he passes over my carry-on backpack.

  How is he so relaxed about this? I thought it would be weird. The whole reason I didn’t want to sleep with him was because it would fuck things up. And now Chase acts like this is totally normal …

  Because for him, it is. The realization twists in my stomach. Of course Chase is good at this. He does it all the time. A different woman in every photo. A new girl in his bed every week.

  When I first met Chase I ducked away before he could take my bag. This time I’m too busy wondering how many not serious women he’s had. Chase swings his own backpack onto the conveyor before I can stop him.

  “Isn’t that—”

  Chase gives me a sharp look, tilting his head toward the listening desk assistant. “What? It’s yours.”

  “Mine,” I repeat, managing to make it sound not entirely like a question.

  “Yeah,” Chase says with a shrug as he slides some bills over for the excess baggage charge. “Your Christmas present.”

  The assistant doesn’t seem to notice, or doesn’t care, that this isn’t a bag I packed myself. Once we’re walking away from the desk Chase nudges me with his shoulder.

  “You know how surprises work, don’t you? No questions.”

  I have a lot of questions, but now saying anything seems stupid. Like this good day that we’re having might be fragile. Why would I muck up my last moments in Laax? Why would I make anything complicated?

  I crinkle my nose as I look at him. “… Okay.”

  Chase grins. “Now you’re learning.”

  I should go through security. There’s nothing left to wait for. What do I even want to say, anyway? There’s nothing that needs to be covered. I know what this is. It was great, and now it’s done.

  Maybe we’ll just stand here. Just wait. I’m close enough that I can smell the faint masculine tinge of his cologne. One strand of his hair has flopped over his brow, and I feel the urge to reach up and brush it away.
<
br />   I don’t get the chance. Chase reaches for my hips and pulls me into him, such a small twitch of his strength an undeniable gravity for me. I step forward, sure as if I’m falling.

  They’re so bright, the flecks of gold in his eyes.

  “Travel safe, yeah?” Chase’s gaze ticks over mine, those long fingers that felt so good inside of me curling over my hips. “Don’t pull an Aaron on me. We need you in one piece for Bella Coola.”

  The laugh feels awkward in my chest. “Luckily I don’t make a habit of stupid mistakes when I’m drunk.”

  Chase hums laughter. “Don’t you.”

  And then he’s kissing me. In front of everyone. Right here in the crowded departures area. All those women stopping to look at him, and it’s me Chase wants.

  His arm tightens to belt around the small of my back, and nothing else exists. Just the soft, slow claim of his tongue, and when I peek, the smooth calm of his face. Utterly absorbed in this, now.

  It feels so good that I forget everything else, all my awkwardness melting away as I lean into the solid safety of his chest. Letting Chase hold me up, and feeling as he takes my weight the catch of a trapped inhalation in his chest. At my side his hand twitches, long fingers gripping at my curves.

  When Chase breaks the kiss he doesn’t fully pull away. Instead he lets his forehead rest against mine, the flop of his hair tickling my skin. It only lasts a second, but I can feel the brief crease of his frown. With a bump of his nose he presses the words to my skin. “Not serious.”

  My voice is a whisper and I don’t know why. “Not serious.”

  Something ripples through Chase’s shoulders. His push isn’t rough, but I’m still off-footed by the firm brace of his arms that steps me back. Suddenly we’re separate again, and Chase’s casual grin is back, one hand rising to ruffle through his hair.

  “Have a nice New Year.” Above the tighter line of Chase’s jaw his smile widens without getting brighter. “Make sure it’s a good guy you share it with.”

  I don’t have time for a witty comeback before he’s gone.

  I have to wait until I’m back at the airport in Mammoth to check out the backpack. Now that I’m looking I see it instantly—the logo of the best avalanche airbag manufacturer in the world. I’m holding easily a thousand dollars of protective equipment.