Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 33433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 167(@200wpm)___ 134(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 167(@200wpm)___ 134(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
"See you at the bottom!" I shout.
He startles, panic in his gaze. "Sophie! Goddammit!"
I hurl myself forward, the cold wind instantly freezing my face. My skis chatter as I lean into the slope, ignoring the fact that I have absolutely no idea how to control my speed beyond a vague memory of Austin and Sidney trying to teach me a few years ago.
Behind me, I hear the thunk of Harlan launching off the lift, and then he's coming after me, his enormous body eating up ground so fast I want to scream.
I risk a glance back. Bad idea.
He's gaining. Also, my skis immediately cross, and I'm airborne for one dizzying, slow-motion heartbeat.
I land. Not gracefully.
I manage to recover, but I can hear him breathing now.
Jesus Christ. It's like racing a freight train, only the freight train is a hot hockey player and he's actually good at this. Why is he so damn fast?
I scream and dig in, committing to the next curve until my knees ache. But Harlan is still right behind me. Worse, he's laughing like this is the most fun he's ever had.
Clearly, he needs his head examined because delusions like that are not normal. Flying down a mountain on death sticks to win a bet is the height of insanity. Why did I agree to this?
I slash snow at him, praying he'll skid out. But he just shrugs it off, then grabs the back of my coat, sending us both careening off the main run into a bank of powder.
"Harlan!" I shriek as we tumble, our skis dislodging, limbs everywhere. Somehow, I end up on top of him, straddling his chest.
For a second, he looks up at me with this blissful expression, like I just handed him the Cup, and I want to kiss him and just never stop. Our bet be damned, I want to stay right here, with him looking at me like he is right now.
I bite his shoulder instead, hard enough to leave teeth marks in his coat.
He just laughs and drags me down. Our helmets bash together before his mouth collides with mine. And then he's kissing me like there's nothing else he'd rather do right now. He tastes like winter and mint, his hard body setting mine on fire right there in the snow as his tongue tangles with mine.
I give myself three seconds to enjoy the way he annihilates me with his mouth before I bite his lip and then knee him in the balls. Hard.
"Jesus!" he yelps, curling in on himself. "What the fuck, Sophie?"
"Cheating has consequences," I pant, scrambling to my feet. I somehow manage to detangle my poles and reattach my skis without landing on my face. Don't ask me how. I can't even feel my legs right now.
He's still writhing in the snow, clutching his balls. I don't feel guilty. At least, not very much. He's the one who crashed us into a snowbank.
"See you at the bottom, cheater." I plant my poles and take off.
I'm whooping as I get to the last stretch, the muscles in my thighs quivering. It's ridiculous. I can stay en pointe for hours, but one damn mountain, and my thighs are ready to tap out.
The bottom of the slope is in sight when I hit a patch of ice.
I'm not sure if the world goes sideways or if I do, but I absolutely obliterate a small spruce, my arms pinwheeling, my skis ejecting in opposite directions. All the air leaves my lungs in a single, humiliating whoosh as I hit the ground, sinking into the snow.
I'm alive, but I can't breathe. It's fine, though. Oxygen is overrated anyway. And I'm perfectly content to lie here, staring at the sky. I can be a speed bump on the course.
"Sophie!"
There's a massive rumble, and then Harlan is on top of me, his expression nothing but panic and terror.
"Don't you dare be dead," he rasps, his voice cracking. "Don't you fucking dare."
He rips off my helmet, then my goggles, and buries his face in my neck. "Breathe," he commands. "Goddammit, Sophie, please—"
I suck in a ragged gasp. "I'm…fine," I wheeze, even though I can't feel my ass and I think my eyelashes are frozen together. "You…cheating…asshole."
I don't think I'll ever forget the sound of his relief. It's half a groan, half a choked sob. He hauls me upright, cradling my head in his hands. The way he inspects my face makes my throat tight.
His big, rough hands shake like he can't quite get himself under control. I don't know what to do with that. I've never seen him anything but sure, steady, and infuriatingly immovable. Seeing him look at me like he's seconds from losing his mind shreds whatever stubborn pride was holding the rest of my anger together.
It just…dissolves, floating away like I never felt it at all. When it does, I'm left facing the truth I've been trying to run from.