Free The Snow Maiden by Eden Royce Page B

from its extended slumber. He shifted on the stool toward me, his eyes searching my face for something I wasn’t sure I was ready to reveal. The muted light gave his eyes an intensity that made my heart thud. Unable to hold his direct gaze, I dropped my eyes to his fingers around the old-fashioned glass. They stroked the curves of the cut crystal and the kitten woke fully, watching the rhythmic movement.
    “No?” I asked as I shrugged in what I hoped was a careless fashion. “Okay.” I moved the straw toward my lips.
    “Wait,” he said, too loudly, even for the busy restaurant. He continued, more softly, “Wait. I’ll try it.”
    “You sure? No pressure.”
    I’d only whispered the last part, but he’d heard. His eyes glittered as he spoke. “I’m sure.” But instead of taking the offering I had prepared in the straw, he took the glass from my hand and brought it to his lips. He swirled the creamy liquid around in the glass as he swallowed.
    After what seemed like an eternity, I asked, “Well?”
    “Strong, sharp, with an unexpected sweetness. I like it.”
    It bothered me that something I enjoyed pleased him. “I’m so glad.”
    “Now you have to taste something I choose.”
    “I don’t have to do anything.” My inner cynic, born of so many bad dates and even worse lovers, had to be heard.
    The smile eased across his face again. “You do if you want to be fair.”
    “Newsflash. Hate to tell you, but life isn’t fair.”
    “No, but it can be fun.”
    “I wouldn’t know.”
    He leaned an elbow on the bar, causing his shirt to stretch over an impressive set of shoulders, strong and solid, without being bulky. When I looked up, he was watching me observe him. To his credit, he didn’t comment. “Why wouldn’t you know? You seem pretty together.”
    “That is exactly the reason. Men don’t like ‘together’ women. They like nutcases without anything going for themselves except a closet full of clothes that are a size too small. They even…” My rant died away as his fingers found my earlobe and pressed with a feather touch, securing the tiny hoop. I shuddered as he trailed the tip of his index finger over the taut, sensitive flesh behind my earring before returning his hand to his pocket.
    “It was coming out,” he explained. “I tightened it for you.”
    “I’m not used to anyone doing anything for me.” I rubbed my ear, trying to erase the tingling, but it was no use. My skin felt hot and tight, as if he’d kissed me there. The thought of his lips, with their soft friction on my flesh, made a stream I’d thought long dry begin to flow. I squirmed in my seat at the unexpected moisture and wished I’d worn hose in addition to the thin, microfiber bikini panties.
    He brushed a drop of pearlescent wine from the back of my hand. “Why not?”
    “I… Well, I get it done faster.”
    “Faster isn’t always better.”
    “I like knowing things are done, so I don’t have to worry about them anymore.”
    “You shouldn’t worry at all.”
    I snorted. “Yeah, I’ll give up worrying for Lent.”
    “No, really. It causes undue stress and wrinkles.” He reached toward my face and I couldn’t move as the backs of his fingers danced over my cheek. My face burned.
    “I’m sure I already have wrinkles.”
    “You have beautiful skin.”
    “It isn’t–”
    He leaned close, his mouth a gasp away from mine. “Just say, ‘Thank you.’”
    My throat constricted. His scent, his presence was all around me. Each movement he made was relaxed and easy. It was self-assurance that was far from being arrogant. It was a confidence imbued with the knowledge he could handle any issue that might arise. I breathed him in again, slowly this time, savoring the crisp, earthy scent. He radiated heat, foiling the best efforts of the restaurant’s ceiling fans. My nipples tightened and the lips of my pussy seeped fluid.
    I pressed my legs together in an attempt to stem the flow of moisture, but I ended