The Resolution - Apres Ski
Chapter 23
He guides her across the valley rather than straight down, and it takes about thirty minutes to reach the bottom and the button lift. Switching it off, Gregg leads her toward the building and into a sheltered space beneath it.
“Take off your skis and boots—leave them here,” he says.
She nods, leaning her skis against the wall and placing her poles beside them. Following him through a door into a porch-like area, he gestures for her to remove her jacket and gear and hang them on a nearby hook.
Taking her hand, he smiles and leads her up a flight of stairs. At the top, a heavy door opens into a spacious, light-filled room with floor-to-ceiling glass walls on both sides.
“Wow. Impressive,” Caro breathes. “I assume this is yours?”
“It is. I had it remodelled exactly the way I wanted,” he replies.
“The views are incredible! It feels like you’re still outside—right in the snow,” she says, her eyes wide with admiration.
Delighted she appreciates his vision, he takes her other hand and draws her further into the room. Beyond a sleek lounge area, she spots a large bed and, just beyond it, a bathroom.
He turns to face her, his voice low and warm. “Any objections to sharing a shower?”
Caro gives a playful, coy shake of her head. As he tilts her chin, searching her eyes, her body thrums with anticipation.
“Are you sure?” he asks gently.
“I’m sure,” she whispers, her heart racing as she leans in for a quick, tender kiss.
He leads her into the bathroom and briefly steps away to turn on the shower. When he returns, their eyes meet again—and this time, the silence crackles with unspoken desire. With deliberate care, he slips the straps of her salopettes from her shoulders, unfastens them, and eases them down her legs. She gasps softly, steadying herself against him as his hands skim over her long, bare legs.
When his fingers reach the warm space between her thighs, he caresses her through the delicate fabric of her panties. Her grip tightens on his shoulders, her breath catching, her body awakening after a long silence. God, it’s been so long, she thinks, every nerve alive, every sensation magnified.
In one smooth motion, he lifts the layers of her clothing over her head, leaving her in just her vest and underwear. “I want you, Caro,” he murmurs.
She cups his face in her hands and pulls him into a kiss, her tongue meeting his in a rush of urgency. He responds with equal fervour, shedding his own clothes quickly before guiding them both into the shower.
The hot water makes her vest and panties cling to her like a second skin, teasing him with every curve. He strips her vest away, then lowers his mouth to her breasts, his lips and tongue working over her nipples with slow, deliberate reverence. Caro gasps, the heat of the water and his touch combining to spark a deeper, hungrier need.
His mouth moves greedily, lips pulling, teeth grazing, while his hands explore lower—searching, learning, heightening every reaction. Her breathing grows ragged as he pushes her to the edge, until pleasure crests and crashes through her in a hot, blinding wave.
He tears away her soaked panties just as he rolls on a condom, then lifts her into his arms. She wraps her legs around him instinctively as he presses her back against the slick shower wall. Slowly, he slides into her, deep and steady, pausing for a beat—letting the moment settle between them.
When she tilts her hips, meeting his rhythm, he begins to thrust. Each movement builds on the last, stoking the fire they’ve ignited. Caro clings to him, lost in sensation, her moans echoing softly off the glass.
He drives deeper, faster, until her body tightens around him in another pulsing climax. With a final, powerful thrust, he follows her, groaning against her shoulder. They hold each other, spent, the water still cascading around them.
Gregg is the first to move. He turns off the shower, gathers her gently in his arms, and carries her to the bed, grabbing a towel along the way. He dries her with quiet tenderness, then wraps her in the duvet as she curls into it and drifts into a deep, peaceful sleep.
He pulls on sweatpants and a sweatshirt, then heads to the kitchen. There, he brews coffee, slides croissants into the oven, and grills sausages and eggs. The scent soon draws Caro in—barefoot, wearing one of his shirts, hair still damp and tousled.
Seeing her, Gregg crosses the room, kisses her softly, and wraps his arms around her. He only breaks the embrace when the sausages start to smoke.
“Set the breakfast bar,” he says with a grin, handing her a mug of coffee and nodding to a drawer.
She opens it, finds the cutlery, and sets the table while he plates the food—croissants, eggs, sausages, and rashers. He leans in and kisses her again, brushing a lock of damp hair from her face.
“Are you hungry?” he asks.
“Starving,” she replies, her playful smile sending a jolt through him.
Laughing, he glances at the clock—9:15 a.m. “I’m afraid we’ve only got time for breakfast. But I’d love for you to come back after skiing. We could have dinner… maybe you stay the night?”
He lifts her hand and kisses her palm.
Caro meets his eyes, then gently, tenderly, kisses his cheeks, his nose, and finally his lips. “I’d like that,” she says softly.
steamy stuff this week!