A Summer With Snow (Frosted Seasons #1) (21 page)

A
cool gin and tonic fizzes in my hand, which I spill as I slide open the patio door. With one foot still in my room and the other on the balcony, I pause, staring down at her. I can’t actually believe I managed to get Darcy here; she’s never stepped foot off English soil before and now here she is, stretched out on my sun lounger in a figure-hugging tankini, with the afternoon sun beating down on her face. I smile at her innocence; God, are we going to have some fun. There’s so much of life she’s missing out on, so much she hasn’t seen and so much we can explore.

“Snow, is that you?” she murmurs.

I’m holding my dick in my hand, so I think it’s best I don’t answer and best she doesn’t see. Us men like to think we don’t have sex on the brain 24/7;
bollocks
, I think
to myself. I rub my hand up and down my shaft, feeling it harden. I frown. Thinking about it, I’ve only had the odd kiss off her since we arrived, but I guess she’s not used to travelling, and with her complaining of jet lag for the past three days, I haven’t had a look-in. I’ve quite surprised myself, as I haven’t even attempted to touch her. I’ve been the perfect gentleman, not once trying to get my leg over.

I wipe the sweat from my brow; with this intense heat and her sexy body walking itself around my suite, I’m as horny as fuck. I glance down at my tanned chest, tensing my abs, which glisten in the sun from the baby oil I’ve just applied.
Man, if this doesn’t get her going, I don’t know what will.
I pull the waistband of my shorts further away from stomach;
I
guess this is what blue balls feels like.

I can control my dick to a degree, but I can’t control my wandering eyes, and barely dressed, she looks so fit. She really is different to any woman I’ve ever known.

Her long dark hair lies fanned out on the sunbed behind her; it looks as though it hasn’t seen a brush all day and her face is make-up free, but she doesn’t seem to care about the odd blemish on her cheeks, and she looks so natural. She’s not vain or plastic like Vanessa; God, that woman loved herself, and wherever we went, she wanted eyes on her. Talk about high maintenance; in the months I was seeing her, she cost me a small fortune.

Not once have I seen Darcy posing in front of a mirror or taking pictures of herself to post online. Unlike Vanessa, she doesn’t parade around the hotel complex in next to nothing; Darcy insists on wearing a tankini and black sarong, saying she hates her thighs and looks fat, but God knows what mirror she’s been looking through, because I can’t see it. The only reason I stayed with Vanessa for as long as I did was because she was good at giving head. As for experience in the bedroom, she far outshone Darcy, but I have plenty of time, and my intention is to break her in gently and get her up to par. I laugh to myself, because thinking about it, I don’t give a fuck what she’s like in the bedroom, it really doesn’t matter; what I do like is the fact that she’s untouched by anyone’s hands but mine. I let out a sigh of contentment; all I want now is her, all of her.

Placing the drink on the floor, I edge my way onto the end of her sunbed. Acknowledging my presence, she bends her knees, and with slightly more room I shuffle along the padded cushion towards her. Leaning down on my elbow, I stroke my finger up her tanned calf, then slowly work my way down from her knee to the inside of her thigh. Her eyes flicker and open, and she squints up at me, shielding them from the sun with her forearm.

“That’s high enough,” she says, slapping my hand away.

I thought she was joking, but I don’t see her smile or hear her laugh.

“Surely you can’t still be tired?”

She nods.
Maybe the gin and tonic wasn’t such a good idea
. Carefully I move my foot along the floor tiles, nudging the glass under the sunbed. Turning over on her side, she takes up the foetal position, drawing her knees up to her waist. I look at the outline of her sex through her tankini bottoms and quash my frustration by biting down on my lip.

“Come on, Darc, wake yourself up, you’ve been asleep most of the day.”

She doesn’t answer, so I walk my hands either side of her, sandwiching her between my arms.

“Get off.”

She wriggles herself free, and pushing me away, she sits up.

“This isn’t jet lag. Come on, out with it, what’s up?”

“Seriously, do you really need to ask?”

I grind my back teeth. “Surely you’re not still bitching on about Rayne?”

She doesn’t reply. Opening a small grey case at her side, she slips on a pair of gold-rimmed sunglasses.

I huff. “So it is Rayne then.”

She turns her back on me. I smile to myself; she’s so transparent, I can almost see right through her. I take her shoulder, trying to turn her back.

“I’ve already explained it was nothing.”

“Well it didn’t sound like nothing.”

I can’t see her face, though I can hear the sharpness in her voice. She rolls back over to face me.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“Give me a break, will ya?”

She remains expressionless.

“I’ve already told you, he’s pissed at me for telling you about Summer.”

She lifts her sunglasses from the bridge of her nose and raises her eyebrows. I can tell by her change of expression that she’s waiting for more. I drop my eyes, wondering what I should say.

“And?” Her tone jolts me from my thoughts.

“Things aren’t what they seem.”

Shit, what am I saying? I didn’t mean to say that.
But as I look into her eyes, they appear to hold a greater interest.

“Go on…”

How the fuck do I talk my way out of this one?
My eyes narrow.

“Darcy, it’s as simple as this. Me being here is no more than a game to him.”

Her brows furrow. “
Him
?”

If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll make sure she hates that man.

“I’m nothing, Darcy. The hotels, the money, it’s all Rayne, he owns everything. It was a gesture of good will that he handed me this lifestyle.” I lift my hand, clicking my fingers. “And as quick as that he can take it away.” My shoulders drop. “Where does that leave me?”

I look at her face.
God, I’m good at this
. I imagine I could spin anyone a yarn and manage to talk my way out of a paper bag. But I can’t be had for lying to her, because I’m not, I just don’t see the need to elaborate further. My voice lowers, with the odd crack here and there; it’s my way of opting for the sympathy vote. Her face softens immediately.
Fuck me, my acting skills are so damn good
. I have to bite the insides of both my cheeks to hold my face straight and prevent myself from breaking out into laughter.

After a second of looking as though I’m composing myself, I continue.

“My so-called friends only want me for my money. That’s just it, Darc, everyone wants a piece of Snow. Without all this…”

I get to my feet and look out from my balcony at the panoramic view, then turn my head and look back through the open patio door and beyond into our luxurious suite.

“Without all this…” I say, gesticulating with my arm, “what’s to keep you here?”

My throat tightens, and on this occasion it is not an act. I can feel my heart pounding beneath my chest; I really can’t lose her. She’s become a drug in my life, and I’m addicted to her.

“Snow, it doesn’t matter, I don’t care about money, I wouldn’t care if you had nothing. I just want us to be happy.”

I decide to drop the act, allowing her a part-truth.

“Things aren’t that bad, I have money stashed away in offshore accounts, but the way I spend, I’ll be bankrupt within months.”

“I’m sure you’re overreacting, he’s your brother—”

“No, Darcy,” I interrupt, “Rayne’s no brother of mine. I don’t mean to sound melodramatic, but I can see my whole existence crumbling down around me, it’s only a matter of time.”

I lean against the balcony, resting my head in my hands.
Fuck it, Rayne’s in England with his shag piece, so for now our secret is safe.

“Hey, Darc, let’s forget what I’ve said and just enjoy the rest of the day.”

Her eyes widen. “If your brother’s that much of a bastard, let him have his money, his hotels, he’s welcome to them.”

Why did I open my mouth? She’s not going to drop this now.
I blow out my cheeks and give a long drawn-out breath on hearing her continue.

“Rayne can’t take Mum and Dad’s house off us, you’ve already bought it, it’s ours, so at least we have somewhere to live. As for money, there are plenty of jobs out there; there are pages and pages of them listed in our local paper, it’s just a case of looking. We’ll be okay.”

Her eyes lift to meet mine.

“Yeah, whatever.”

She wrinkles her nose. “Can’t you just be happy living a normal life like everyone else?”

No, that’s just it, I can’t.
Not wanting to carry on the conversation any longer, I just nod. I see the deep breath she takes and gather she hasn’t finished, so I raise my hand.

“Look, you’re still jet lagged after the flight and I’ve got one mother-fucker of a headache coming on, so I’m going to turn the air-con on, take a couple of aspirin and lie down for a while. Top up your tan; we’ll hit the beach tomorrow.”

T
he mood this morning is far lighter and far happier than the rather fraught episode of yesterday. As soon as I opened my eyes and the sun filtered through the blinds, I rang down for room service to bring us breakfast in bed, though Darcy had already showered and dressed, and insisted we had breakfast downstairs. Eating in the hotel restaurant is a rarity for me; I choose my own company and my own space to enjoy my food, but after yesterday I think it best I keep in her good books and go along with her wishes.

Buttering a piece of toast, she beams across the breakfast table. My lips curve, though don’t quite make the smile I intend. A hand pats me on the shoulder, and a portly gentleman with a receding hairline begins talking to me like I’ve known him all my life. I don’t get chance to reply as he waffles on about his and his wife’s twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, and the sea-view room he’d booked but never got. I tell him to go back to his table and write his room number down on a serviette, then I’d speak to reception and get it sorted. He is the first of many interruptions we have while attempting to eat breakfast. I have no idea which member of staff has let slip that I’m the owner, but I will get to the bottom of it, and when I do I’ll be having words.

Darcy wipes the crumbs from her fingers, pushes her chair out from the table and heads back towards the buffet. In her absence I make out Chase standing at the far end of the dining room next to the coffee machine. I watch the way he fraternises with the guests and see the way they laugh; no doubt he’s telling one of his piss-poor jokes, the ones I’ve heard a thousand times. I glance down into my latte, rubbing my hand over my brow. I hope to God he isn’t telling them the pube story; he’d be sure to clear the restaurant, and we’d probably end up with the inspectors here this time tomorrow. I gaze back up and see the fucker pointing at me;
actually
, he’s pointing me out. I catch his eye, and he breaks into a smile and waves. The guests turn from him, their eyes following his finger to where I sit. Discreetly behind their backs he cups his hand, giving me the wanker sign. I nod politely their way, putting on my professional face. Whispering between themselves, the holidaymakers smile, and taking their coffee and plates they disperse between tables.

‘You’re dead,’ I mouth. He smirks and then the sarcastic git blows me a kiss. I have to turn away, for my instinct is to walk over and wipe that smug smile off his face.

“Great hotel, Snow.”

A shadow passes over my table as another hand pats my shoulder. Just when I want to be invisible to the world, I feel like all eyes are on me. Being the face of the Seasons Hotels, I usually wear my position well and deal with the small talk and bullshit that come with running this place. Surely it’s not too much to ask to be able to spend a few weeks incognito with the woman I’m totally crazy about.

Maybe wiping the smile off Chase’s face is a bit hasty;
I’ll have a quiet but stern word in his ear
.
I lift the serviette off my lap and place it next to my empty plate, then slowly gaze up to see if he’s still alone.
Shit, he’s talking to Darcy
.
Where the fuck did she come from?
Vanessa stands between them, dressed in the tightest pair of shorts I think I’ve ever seen. She knows the dress code in the dining room, but still hasn’t the decency to cover up and wear a T-shirt over her tiger-print bikini; she flaunts it wherever she goes. I slouch in my chair. I could have taken Darcy to Barbados, St Lucia … I reel off destinations in my head.
Of all the places in the world, why did I choose to bring her here?
Looks like that old saying has substance to it: you don’t shit where you eat.

Chase’s shoulders shake as his face creases in laughter. Darcy looks over at me; I gaze back at Vanessa and can’t help wondering what that bitch is saying to them now. I struggle to keep focused as I’m bombarded by a stream of holidaymakers; it’s literally one interruption after another. No more, I’ve had enough. I throw my hands over my eyes, much preferring darkness to the other options I’m faced with. Again a hand rests on my shoulder, but this is one hand too many and my head shoots round.

“Vanessa!” I gasp.

“This is my last day here, I fly home tomorrow. Just asked Chase if he’d mind giving me a lift to the airport.”

“And Darcy,” I’m quick to add, “what did you say to her?”

“Nothing for you to worry about.” She lowers her eyes. “She’s very beautiful. Look after her, you’ve got yourself a good one there.”

God, how guilty does she want to make me feel?
I reach for my shoulder, resting my hand over hers.

“You don’t mind, do you?”

She shakes her head. “No, Snow,” she says, passing me that cat-like grin of hers. “Am I jealous? Yes, a little; what we had was great while it lasted.”

She really is someone who laps up the high life, and sleeping with me, that’s what she got. A far cry from the one-bedroom flat I know she’s going back to. I squeeze her hand.