Chapter 94 94
Standing with impunity, she mimicked his blitzkrieg, pelting him unmercifully. This time she played dirty, aiming for his masculinity. The snow was too wet and she was too far away to do any real damage, but watching Justin hop and curse and try not to fall had her laughing until tears ran down her face.
Unfortunately, she, too, eventually ran out of steam and snowballs.
Ducking back down, her heart pounding, she waited for the answering volley. Nothing happened. Surely he had managed to make a new pile of ammo by now. Dead silence reigned, broken only by the faraway raucous cry of a crow.
What was happening? Why wasn’t he firing back? Tentatively, she peeked around, expecting any moment to be hit in the face with icy, wet snow.
The wall had been abandoned. No sign of Justin anywhere, though messy footprints led in all directions. Surely he wouldn’t have gone back into the house without her. Inside her gloves, her fingers started to go numb. And the knees of her pants were getting wet. Where in the hell was he?
Without warning, snow crunched behind her and what felt like a shovelful of snow slithered down her back. She yelled in shock, flailing wildly and knocking Justin's head with hers in the process. He had made a wide circle, sneaking up behind her in a creditable ambush attack. Before she could recover, he flipped her onto her back and shoved more snow up under the front of her coat.
“Stop, you big goof,” she cried. “I’m freezing."
He unzipped her parka and massaged the snow into her chest. “I want to hear you cry uncle,” he said, grinning evilly.
She tried to ignore the fact that her body was heading for hypothermia. Smiling sweetly to disarm him, she waited one click…two…and then kneed him dangerously close to the groin before rolling away, reversing their positions and landing on top of him with her forearm over his windpipe.
Justin's eyes crossed and he coughed out a weak imprecation. “I should have known better,” he groaned. “Martial arts. Not Barbie dolls. Rookie mistake on my part.”
Sherry knew he could overpower her. Despite her considerable skill, he outweighed her by at least seventy pounds. And he was strong and powerful. But for the moment, he allowed her a victory.
He held up a hand. “I surrender.”
“Hah.”
“You don’t believe me?” His lifted eyebrow was all innocence.
She stood up and shivered as melted snow ran down her back and belly. “I don’t trust you one tiny bit. You’re a schemer and a conniver.”
“Only in sports,” he said, knowing it was a lie. “Not in real life.”
She had been teasing him, nothing more, but his sudden, soft-spoken vow seemed to be aimed at communicating something significant. “Well, duh, I know that,” she said.
He stood up and winced when he realized his entire backside was covered in snow. Brushing himself off, he shrugged and then faced her. “Do you still hate my guts?”
He didn't even need to elaborate for her to know what he meant and why he was asking. How had they gone from playful to deadly serious so quickly? The words she wanted to say trembled on her tongue. I never stopped loving you, Justin. But good Lord, she couldn’t say that. And see the pity and compassion on his face? She’d rather go to her grave an old maid.
“I don’t hate you,” she said lightly. “But if I catch pneumonia, just know you are to blame.”
__________
Justin suffered the tsunami of disappointment stoically. What had he expected? A miracle in less than forty-eight hours? Sherry would never forgive him for rejecting him, not really. She didn't think they were compatible. She didn't want a family… Not like he did. He might as well give up on winning her approval, and with this thing with her brother. It was a lost cause.
It was probably for the best, especially since he was still going ahead with his plans for BenTel. There was no going back now, and he knew that after she found out, she'd hate him even more. Swallowing his bitter defeat, a battle she didn’t even realize she had won, he waved a hand. “Let’s go inside.”
On the back porch, they stripped off their outerwear. “Leave it,” Justin said. “I’ll put it all in the dryer later.” He watched her wring water from her hair, and that single, feminine motion made him hard. What the hell, he thought. If sex was all that worked between them, he might as well enjoy it.
“We shouldn’t traipse through the house all wet,” he said calmly.
Sherry sat on a stool and tugged off her boots. “What would you suggest?” Her pants were soaked through, and her sweater was not much better.
“Strip naked,” he said. “We’ll make a dash for the shower.”
Her eyes widened and two spots of color bloomed on her cheeks. “Naked?”
“It’s the smart thing to do.” Not waiting for her to follow his lead, he dragged his shirt over his head, shoved his sodden pants to his feet and stepped out of them. His socks were already balled up inside his boots. In spite of the frigid temperature, his sex reared eagerly, perhaps not at full mast, but headed that way.
When Sherry seemed literally frozen, he lent a hand, undressing her matter-of-factly, not lingering to caress her, or signal seduction in any way.
Now they both stood bare-skinned, their limbs covered in gooseflesh.
“After you,” he said quietly, unable to tear his gaze away from her nudity. He put a hand at the small of her back and urged her forward. “My shower’s bigger. We’ll go upstairs.”
By the time they made it to his room, he couldn’t feel his feet. And Sherry's lips were blue. Leaving her to stand on the bath mat for a moment, he leaned into the shower enclosure, adjusted the water to a warm, steady spray and linked his fingers with hers. “C’mon, honey. Let’s get you warmed up.”
She was so docile, he worried for a moment that she might actually be in danger of shock from the cold. But as soon as he got her under the steamy water, color returned to her skin, and she moaned in sheer pleasure. The sound she made went straight to the heart of his need, dragging him into insanity without a qualm.