Page 82 of The Snowflake Effect

“So perfect,” he replies. “But don’t move yet.”

His mouth travels down my neck and over each breast, the sweat and heat melting us together. My hands are in his hair, on his shoulders, his back. I rotate my hips, grinding against his pelvis. Then we’re moving.

Our wet lips collide as I pull back and crash onto him. Over. And over.

Groaning cuts off our Gods and fucks. The temperature skyrockets, the heat between my thighs threatening to ignite, the pressure in my chest just as volatile.

He slows us down. Speeds us up. Always in control. Always with his mouth on me, whispered words I can’t hear dripping down my skin, my silent confessions of love sliding down his. I ride the edge of pleasure, rising and falling, until, without warning, I fall apart.

I toss my head back, and he drives into me while guiding my hips, knowing I’m nearly boneless from the heat and the high. Then he joins me, my name like a prayer on his lips. I latch my loose limbs around him, and he buries his face in my neck, still connected, the scents of cedar and eucalyptus mingling with the smell of sex.

My pulse doesn’t slow, though. The vulnerable organ continues to thunder. Not from the heat. Not from the exertion. Because this was it. Everything. Whatever happens from here on out, my heart is his.

CHAPTER 35

KOLTON

Shay and I walk along the beach-side boardwalk in Toronto’s Beaches district, enjoying a reprieve from work on this sunny Sunday afternoon. Jackson is between us, gripping our hands, skipping along as he prattles on about his favorite words.

He stops suddenly and hops in place. “Can we look for rocks, Daddy? I need rocks for my rock collection. Or maybe they have hidden gems in the sand?”

Jackson looks up at me, still hopping like a jumping bean. His face is covered with the chocolate ice cream he recently finished, and his big grin has his glasses tilting.

“Sure, bud. But first…” Kneeling, I pull a pack of wipes out of my Dad Backpack and clean his face, chuckling as he squirms and scrunches his nose. “How about Shay and I sit in the sand, and every time you find a good rock, or a gem, you leave it with us while you search for others. We’ll guard the collection.”

He jumps with an excited, “Yes!” and runs onto the beach.

Shay shakes her head, laughing. “His excitement is contagious.”

Dad Backpack reorganized, I inhale the fresh air and stare at her gorgeous profile. “So is your happiness.”

She forces her face into a frown. “Who says I’m happy?”

“Just a hunch.” We sit on the beach where we can watch Jackson and stretch out our legs. “I’m happy, too,” I add.

I’m not sure why I point out the obvious. My wooing of Shay was far from subtle, and I finally have her where I want her, minus the future we agreed not to discuss. But my heart palpitations return, making me both clammy and sweaty at once. It’s the same overwhelming sensation I’ve had a handful of times, including in the sauna last week, right before I almost told Shay I loved her. I have no idea why my body is acting so damn haywire.

“What fashion fad do you hate the most?” she suddenly asks.

I focus on her random question, not the hot flush running through me. Ever since our first dinner date, Shay asks questions out of nowhere, like she can’t learn enough about me. There’s no weird awkwardness between us anymore. Whether we’re alone, with Jackson, working, or exploring each other’s bodies, we talk easily. Or we don’t talk.

Getting to know this woman is one of my new favorite hobbies.

“Bellbottoms,” I say, breathing easier.

“But bellbottoms are fun, if you don’t have big hips,” she adds, glancing down at her body.

“I love your hips, Shay. Even more than in Aspen. I like having something to grip.” I wink at her. “As for bellbottoms, if you want to wear them, I won’t give you shade, but I’m not a fan of the silhouette.”

She tips her head back, soaking up the sun. “Spoken like a true fashion icon.”

I chuckle. “You know I’m more about numbers and spreadsheets than style, but I have my opinions.”

“Oh, I know about your opinions. So, so many opinions,” she says, upping her dramatics.

I laugh again and nudge her with my elbow. “Pot meet kettle.”

Jackson runs over and drops a small reddish rock in front of us. “It’s a precious gem,” he says, breathing hard. “A ruby, but one from Mars. It fell from the sky. Gotta find more.”