A Summer With Snow (Frosted Seasons #1) (23 page)

Holding her in my arms, I turn; this time I’m not dragging her into the sea but back to shore. I carry her to where Chase lay the towels, and with her still tucked up in my arms I sit down, then slowly lean back, taking her with me so that she’s sitting astride my waist. She leans over me, her long hair falling across her face. Her sand-grained fingers stroke my cheeks.

I glance up. The sun gives the illusion of a white backdrop behind her, and as she looks at me all I can see is her outline. It’s like an angel is gazing down at me.
Fucking hell, Snow, get a grip, you’re starting to think like a woman.

And then it slips from my lips. “I love you.”

I clasp my hand to my mouth. Her hair tickles my shoulder as she tilts her head.

“Snow, say it again…”

My hand slides down to my chin.

“Darcy, I love you.”

“Tell me you mean it.”

I nod and say, “I mean it.”

Wow, where did that come from?
I remember the flippant way it had slipped out to Darcy before, but it wasn’t really meant, and was purely for effect. But now I’ve realised I’m falling, no,
I’ve fallen in love. I never knew someone could make their way so completely into someone else’s heart, yet as I look up at Darcy, I know that she has. She completes the moment by telling me that she loves me too.

I reach between her legs, pulling her tankini bottoms to the side. She lifts slightly, taking me in her hands, and then manoeuvres herself over me. I feel the head of my penis as it rubs against her damp opening. I can’t control myself any longer, and grabbing either side of her hips, I thrust myself deep inside her. We haven’t fucked in this position before, but I can hear from her groans and the way she tenses around me that she’s loving it. I jerk my pelvis up and can feel that our movements are not quite in sync, so this is for me to take charge. Using slightly more pressure, I squeeze my fingers into her sides and rock her hips back and forth until simultaneously our movements coincide.

W
armed by the blistering sun, I hold her close, her head nestling comfortably against the side of my neck. Overwhelmed by emotion, I gaze down; this is no meaningless embrace. With Darcy so close it feels as though I’m holding my world. I know it sounds soft, but I really don’t give a shit. I can’t believe how much I’ve changed, how much she’s changing me. This time we didn’t fuck, we made love. In the past I’ve only ever fucked in the dark and whoever she was facing away from me; why would I want any of those meaningless shags to look at me? They weren’t looking at me as a person, all they saw was my money. Yet when Darcy looks my way, I know it’s me that she sees.

She stretches her arm over the side of the towel, and lifting the lid of the cool box, she pulls out her flowery beach bag.

“Snow, it’s been a couple of hours.”

I prop myself up on my elbow.

“And?”

“Well, don’t you think it’s about time you reapplied my suntan lotion?”

I allow my hands to glide over her back.

“Guess you’re wanting another massage?”

Her teeth shine as she gives me an open-mouthed smile. She giggles, rolling onto her stomach, and throws me the bottle. I catch it and sit up, crossing my legs, and begin to unscrew the lid. Looking back down, I notice she has her phone in her hand.

“I’ve got ten missed calls and five texts off Jenny.”

“What’s she say?” I enquire.

She flips from her stomach onto her side.

“She wants me to ring her as soon as I can.”

“What else did she say?”

I watch her eyes drop as she scrolls though her messages.

“That’s it, that’s all she said.”

She holds her phone at arm’s length, squinting at the screen.

“I’ve hardly got a signal, it keeps dropping out.”

I laugh. “What do you expect out here?” I say, tipping the lotion between my palms.

“Snow, what if something’s happened to her; maybe she’s gone into labour early or something’s wrong with the baby,” she says as she sits up, raking her hand through her hair.

I blow out a long drawn-out breath and wipe my hands down the side of my legs to free them of lotion.

“The signal’s not great out here, but I can guarantee you at least one bar in my beach house.”

“Beach house?”

“Yes,” I say, taking her hand. “Over there.”

Pulling her to her feet, I point.

“Behind the palm trees.”

I grab the cool box, and she throws the towels over her shoulder, while I throw my shorts over mine. Long grasses sprout from the sand, brushing against our legs as we snake our way between the huge trunks. Shaded by broad palm leaves, I walk her towards a lush landscaped garden and my glass-fronted beach home. I can see by her widening eyes that she’s impressed. I watch sand flick from her feet as she runs towards the three white concrete steps that lead to the sliding glass door. She stands and waits, looking in. I steal up behind her.

“What are you waiting for?” I ask.

“For you to open up, what do you think?”

I smirk, lifting the latch, and pull open the door. She steps under my arm and into the open-plan living area. When I need some me time, to get away from it all, this is where I come. I moor up the speedboat and stay here for days. I love this place with its contemporary feel, its straight lines and its uncomplicated decor, quite the opposite to my complicated life.

“This is amazing,” she exclaims, and with her arms out at her sides she turns full circle and gazes up into the light airy ceiling.

She flits around, looking in cupboards and opening doors. I can hardly wait to see her face when she steps out the back onto my veranda and sees my saltwater plunge pool.

I switch on the air-con, getting a cool blast, and shake the sand from my shorts before pulling them back on. I take a slow walk into the kitchen area, open my American-style fridge and search through my vast wine selection for something white and sweet.

“No way…”

I hear her voice. I place the cold wine bottle down on my white granite worktop. She’s sitting cross-legged on my leather settee with her mobile pressed to her ear. She jumps up.

“You’ll never guess what.”

I raise my eyebrows, attempting to look enthusiastic.

“What?”

“It’s Chris, he’s won the lottery!”

“You’re shitting me!” I call out, and she frowns. “I mean, you’re joking!”

“I’m not.”

She shakes her head, and then her concentration’s gone as she talks back into the mouthpiece of her phone.

“Yes, Jenny, I’ve just told him, didn’t you hear me?” She holds the phone between her shoulder and cheek and begins to jump up and down, clapping her hands. “Three hundred thousand!” she bellows.

I rub my ears with my fingers.
Have I heard her right?

“How much?” I pipe up, butting into their conversation. “Darc, do me a favour, put Chris on the phone. I think congratulations are in order.”

“Jenny, put Chris on the phone.”

She waits for a second and then slides her mobile across the breakfast bar. I pick it up and press it to my ear.

“Hello…” I hear.

Just one word from that man, and his voice already grates on me. Clenching my teeth, I smile so that Darcy can see.

“That’s amazing, Chris,” I say in a jovial tone, though I am lying through my teeth. I lift my finger. “One moment, Darc, just popping to the bathroom.”

“Where are your glasses? I’ll pour the wine.”

I gesture with my head to the place where they’re kept, then walk through a small hallway and into the bathroom. Once inside, I turn on the taps to make sure she can’t overhear.

“Chris, I take it you’re on your own?”

A muffled “yes,” comes back. “I’m outside the flat,” he tells me.

“Good, keep it that way. Three hundred thousand, where’s the rest?”

I scratch my head.
The streets, that must be where I know him from
.

“Please, Chris, tell me you haven’t ordered a hit on Lenny?”

“No, but if you return to England I suggest you watch your back.”

This guy can’t be fucking serious!
I try not to laugh.

“Oh, we’re playing games, are we? Well, if I were you, I wouldn’t mess with me. I can get you nobbed off with a click of my fingers.”

I laugh down the mouthpiece. I know I’m talking shit, but I’ll do anything to unnerve him.

“Chris, you’ve made one massive mistake. Sleep well, old friend.”

My finger’s on the button and I’m about to hang up.

“No, Snow, wait.” There’s an anxious tone in his voice. “I lied, I didn’t order a hit on you. I didn’t order a hit on anyone. Why would I pay to have someone murdered?” The line goes quiet. “Who the fuck
are
you?” he asks.

“Chris, I’m losing my patience. Where’s the rest of the money?”

There’s no reply.

“That was meant to give you and your family a better life,” I hiss.

His voice is raised and erratic as he begins rambling on about the odds, red and black, the horses…
Chris, Chris, where do I know him from?
Fuck me!
It’s clicked.

“You’re the little prick from gamblers anonymous,” I spit out.

I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. With Rayne on my case it was money I could ill afford to lose. I wrote Chris a cheque for eight hundred thousand, but for what? He has no idea about my past, and knows nothing about my time on the streets and the gang I was in. I shake my head; the little fucker has nothing on me. We just happened to share the same addiction and attend the same weekly meeting.

“I could have doubled my money, and we could have…”

I can hear his voice breaking;
is the pussy crying?

“Chris, will you never learn?” I say in a derogatory manner, shaking my head. “Didn’t those meetings teach you anything? The casino, the bookies, whatever, they always win…”

I slam my hand against my head.

“You gambled away five hundred thousand pounds in a casino, you stupid fucking idiot. When you kiss Jenny and your kids goodnight, I hope for your sake that you can look them in the eyes and live with yourself.”

“Snow, do you think you could—”

“Chris, fuck off.” I cut him dead and end the call.

I press my head against the wall. It’s not often in my life that I meet someone and immediately think they’re a cunt; not until I met Chris, that is. He was a cunt five years ago, and he’s still a cunt today. It’s quite ironic that I knew him back then; he would already have been married to Jenny, and therefore would have been Darcy’s brother-in-law. We were indirectly linked, yet five years ago we would never have known what a small world we live in.

It must be ten minutes or more that I stand staring at the grout between the mosaic tiles on the wall. There’s a knock, and I can hear Darcy’s muffled words. Backing away from the wall, I open the door and peer out.

“The wine’s getting warm,” she tells me, red-cheeked; I can tell that she’s started drinking without me.

Bypassing my eyes, it seems she looks at my forehead; it makes me wonder how many glasses she’s had.

“Okay,” I say, passing back her phone. “I’ll be there in two secs.”

Closing the door, I turn back towards the wash basin and splash cold water onto my face, then glance in the mirror and watch each droplet as it drips off my chin. I pull the towel from the rail below and dry myself. I frown and lean forwards. Now I know what Darcy was looking at. I smile at my reflection and the deep-red indentations the mosaic tiles have left behind on my skin. Still amused, I turn off the taps.

I
planned today down to the very last detail, the food, the wine, her dress that I left on the bed. I sit on my veranda with my ankles crossed, staring at the swaying palm trees and anticipating when she’ll appear.

With the sound of the sea in my ears, I don’t hear her approach, and I jump up from the chair when I see her standing next to me. My eyes widen. The dress I picked is amazing; I stuck to my usual colour, as there’s nothing like seeing a woman’s hourglass figure dressed in black silk. Her feet are bare, and the hemline sits just above.
Fuck me, she looks gorgeous
. A slit runs up the silken fabric from her ankles to her thighs; the opening is low enough to still be classy, yet high enough for my imagination to run wild. As she steps my way, I almost trip in my rush to pull out a chair.

“Steady on!” She giggles.

Darcy sits, and standing behind her I lean over, my cheek resting against hers. Taking in her fresh floral scent, my breath falters and makes its way down her cleavage. She turns into me, and her cheeks are replaced by her lips, which are mere inches from my own. As I look down between her shapely legs, the crotch of my trousers pulls tight.

“Snow, I do believe I felt you tremble,” she whispers, her breath mingling with mine.

My heart starts to race. I can’t stay here a minute longer, as if I do I’ll rip that God damn dress off her back and bend her over the table. That’ll be dinner and us watching the sun set well and truly fucked. I want this evening to be special for us both, and not just about rolling around between sheets. Pushing my dick so it sits more comfortably, I accept the sex will come later.

I glance at the tanned curve of her back as I leave her sipping champagne.

Dinner is already prepared and in the fridge. I lay the plates on the breakfast bar and uncover them. I go back to the fridge and garnish the feta cheese skewers and place crisp lettuce leaves around the oysters and sushi for decoration; I just hope she likes fish. I grab a tray from the cupboard under the sink, then place the food on top; I pour some nibbles into white china dishes. I balance the tray and walk through the patio doors, back out onto the veranda. With her head resting on her hands, Darcy gazes up at me. Smiling, I place the dishes onto the table beside her and notice she’s finished her champagne, so I reach into the ice bucket and pour her another.

She looks over the dishes I’ve prepared.

“Oysters,” she pipes up. “I’ve never tasted oysters before.”

“Yes, I prepared them especially to set the mood for this evening.”

She smiles at me, though I don’t feel she quite gets what I mean. I move the lettuce leaves away with my fingers and pick up an oyster shell. I lean towards her, resting my elbow on the table.