Chapter 1: Fires in the Frost
The cold bit at the windows of our cozy cabin in Big Bear Lake, the snow piling high outside as the thermometer dipped to a frigid 20 degrees. It was Presidents Day Weekend, a rare escape for John and me from the grind of San Diego. No articles to chase for the Union Tribune, no taiko drumming gigs, and for John, no ironwork or thrash metal shows with his band. Just us, a weekend of snowboarding, and this moment—snuggled under thick blankets, a true crime documentary flickering on the TV.
John’s arm was slung around me, his tattooed skin warm against mine as we watched an older woman on screen plot her husband’s demise for insurance money. His Cajun drawl cut through the narrator’s somber tone. ‘Damn, cher, she’s colder than this weather. Bet she didn’t even flinch when she pulled the trigger.’
I snorted, nudging him with my elbow. ‘You’d probably narrate my every move if I tried something like that.’
He grinned, his hazel eyes glinting with mischief. ‘Oh, I’d be too busy runnin’ for my life from my cougar wife. Four years older, and you’re already plottin’ to trade me in for a younger model, huh?’
I rolled my eyes, but a smirk tugged at my lips. ‘Please, John. If anything, I’m keepin’ you around for the entertainment. A Marine vet and a metalhead? You’re my personal reality show.’
‘Is that so?’ He raised a brow, leaning closer, his breath hot against my cheek. ‘Well, this reality show’s got a hell of a finale planned for tonight.’
Before I could fire back, I closed the gap, kissing him hard. His lips were rough, hungry, tasting of the whiskey we’d sipped earlier. He kissed me back with equal fire, and in a swift move, I rolled over, straddling his hips. The documentary droned on, forgotten, as I pinned him beneath me, my hands tangling in his dark hair.
‘Careful, cher,’ he murmured against my mouth, his voice a low growl. ‘You’re playin’ with a man who’s been pent up all week.’
‘Good,’ I shot back, nipping at his lower lip. ‘I’m not here for gentle.’
Our kisses deepened, a clash of heat and need, my fingers clawing at the hem of his shirt. I yanked it off, revealing the hard planes of his chest, the ink of his tattoos stark against his skin. I trailed my lips down his neck, tasting the salt of him, then lower, over his stomach, until I reached the waistband of his boxers. With a wicked grin, I tugged them down, freeing him—his cock already hard, thick, and waiting for me. My pulse raced as I took in the sight, a hungry ache building between my thighs.
‘Fuck, Kristen,’ he groaned as I leaned down, my tongue flicking along his shaft. ‘You’re gonna kill me before the snow does.’
‘Shut up and enjoy it,’ I teased, my voice husky, before taking him into my mouth, savoring the heat of him. His hands gripped the sheets, a sharp hiss escaping his lips as I worked him, my confidence surging with every sound he made. This wasn’t just desire—it was power, and I reveled in it.
But I wasn’t done. Not by a long shot. And as the fire crackled in the hearth and the snow raged outside, I knew tonight was only just beginning.
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