Free A Summer With Snow (Frosted Seasons #1) by Hallie Swanson

countryside.
    “Home sweet home,” I mutter under my breath, and let out a long drawn-out sigh as house lights pop up before me. I know I’m getting nearer to Darcy; the house can only be half a mile from here.
    I don’t need to close my eyes to picture the beauty of her face and the silky dark hair that frames it. Her whole being is imprinted on my mind; the flowery scent she wears, the touch and feel of her skin. In an instant my cock responds to my thoughts, and I cross my legs in an attempt to push it down, but to no avail, as it only gets harder. My forehead breaks out into a cold sweat; I’ve never wanted to fuck someone as much as I want to fuck her now. I like it tight, and boy was she tight, yet when I think back there was something different about her, an innocence. She’s driving me crazy, I want to know her inside and out. If she doesn’t want to fuck, that’s okay with me; I’ll do as she wants, we’ll make love . I’m sitting here shaking my head. I don’t know how to win this woman. Money always worked with the other women I’ve had, yet I send Darcy flowers every fucking day of the week and hear nothing. I buy her the childhood house that I know means so much to her and even then I don’t get a call from her or a thank you. For the first time in my life I’m well and truly out of my depth, and I just don’t know what I’ve got to do.
    I’m so lost in my thoughts that I hardly notice the taxi slow and draw up at the end of the driveway where she lives. My eyes wander over the exterior white-rendered walls, past the upstairs windows and down towards the glass-fronted porch. I don’t wait for the man to tell me the fare, but chuck a wad of notes in his hand and tell him to wait for me.
    As I walk up the slight incline to the front door, I notice the downstairs lights are on and the curtains have not been drawn. The porch door is open, so I step inside and press my index finger on the doorbell. Hearing it ring, I take a step back. I stand and wait, but there’s no sound from within. I ring again; still nothing. I’m tempted to walk back to the taxi, yet as I step away from the house something draws me back. Walking through the shadows, I tread across the lawn, straddling a half-moon flower bed to peek into the lounge through the large bay window. My lips curve into a smile at her feline shape; like a beautiful cat she’s curled up on the sofa. I scrunch my hand into a ball about to tap on the glass when a shadow flits before my eyes.
    I turn towards the lounge door and almost lose my balance, my shoes sinking into the soil as Chase enters the room with two fluted wine glasses, looking more relaxed than I think I’ve ever seen the man. What’s he doing here? I wonder. The expression ‘seeing red’ was a cliché until now, for I see it in every shade imaginable flashing before my eyes, I can even taste the anger, and it tastes like shit. He couldn’t sit much closer to her; I can hardly believe what their body language is telling me. Their knees rub together and she doesn’t even flinch, but it’s not just their knees that touch … her fingers are touching his face. I swallow hard. He’s touching her face, too. I’m not having this.
    “You fucking traitor!” I shout, pummelling the glass with my knuckles.
    The pair shoot up to their feet, and I point my finger at Chase.
    “You, out here!”
    Their eyes are fixed on me. Darcy’s mouth drops open, and Chase takes her forearms in his hands, lowering her back onto the settee. I’m itching to get my hands on him. My eyes almost burn into the back of his neck as he walks from the lounge. I wade back through the flowers, not giving a shit what I tread down, and stomp my way to the front door. The hinges creak, the door opens and he’s standing there looking out at me. I lunge forward, grabbing the neck of his T-shirt, and push my fist up under his throat.
    “You fucking ginger prick! I trusted you, I’m paying you to pave the way for