All Over You (Unforgettable You, Book 1.5) (12 page)

Instead of taking two cars, we ended up renting an SUV that could comfortably hold all of us and if you think April and Troy are sniping at each other now, imagine five hours of that. This is what happens when best friends have sex.

“
Come on, let’s get these bags to the rooms,” says Zach, gesturing toward the stairs.

Scott looks at me and something unfathomable flickers in his eyes. He thinks I’m going to change my mind. I’m not.

With Zach leading the way, we all troop up to the second floor behind him. Ten minutes later we have the room situation all ironed out. Naturally, Olivia and Zach get the master suite and Scott and I get the second largest room. Olivia and April know Scott and I aren’t having sex but I’m pretty sure the guys don’t know—Olivia swears she hasn’t said anything about it to Zach. My roommates think we’ll cave. Correction, that I’ll cave despite my stalwart denial. “We’ll see,” April had purred with a knowing smirk. This is the pressure I’m now under.

“
This is nice,” Scott announces from the foot of the queen-sized bed.

“
Yeah it is.” I’m nervous. It’s been a while—thirty-two days not that I’m counting—since we’ve been alone in a room together…with a bed. The intimacy of it does not escape me.

“
You still prefer the right side?” His question is casual, like it’s a common occurrence for us to be discussing which side of the same bed we’ll be sleeping on.

I let out a short laugh. “You seem to forget that it was you who insisted on sleeping on the left side. I took what was left.”

Flashing me a wickedly sexy smile, he replies softly, “What I do remember is you underneath me and me under you. I don’t think either of us minded where we ended up sleeping.”

A shock of lust courses through me to settle in my core. My face heats to what feels like nine hundred degrees. I get the first hint of the extent of temptation I’ll be dealing with. In a word, I’m toast.

S
COTT

Since we arrived at the house—or chalet as the girls insist on calling it—early that afternoon, we still have a good four or five hours of sunlight left. And no one wants to waste the near-perfect weather conditions and fresh powder, so after settling in and grabbing something to eat, we head to the slopes.

It’s funny but no one asked me if I knew how to ski. The answer to that is, I do. Just not well. Let’s just say I can stand without falling and I do okay as long as there aren’t any hills around. My family spent a couple winter vacations in Vail but I’m definitely more a beach and surf guy. But it looks like I’m in good company because except for Zach and Olivia, we’re all novices. Which could be the reason no one asked.

The ski resort is a large, stone-faced, timber-framed structure set atop a mountain, its backdrop a forest of towering pine trees. Shortly after we arrive, Becca’s back to normal, smiling, laughing and looking so beautiful in a matching hot-pink ski jacket and pants, I have to bite the inside of my mouth to keep from pouncing on her.

It had taken her a good half hour to come back from what I said to her in the room. Talk about blushing down to the roots. But I could tell she’d been turned on. For a second, I thought she’d renege and put a kibosh on the whole sharing a room thing but she didn’t. Thank God.

After we get our gear, Zach and Olivia go off to ski with the “adults” while the rest of us follow the instructor over to the kiddie slopes.

I’m not as inept as I was the last time my dad attempted to teach me to ski, which was seven years ago. And for a novice, I gotta say, Becca is pretty good. A natural, the too blond, totally stereotypical Norwegian-looking instructor announces. I swear to God, if he puts his hands on her one more time, I’m going to kick his ass. And if I think he’s being too familiar with
my
girlfriend, the way he’s all over April gives instructing a whole new meaning. I honestly think Troy is about to blow a gasket the way he’s watching him, eyes narrowed, jaw clenched tight enough to crack walnuts.

Huh! And Becca says there’s nothing going on between the two of them. Yeah, right. And pigs fly. Tell that to the blind mute with the glass eye.

The hour of instruction is over before we know it, concluding with only a couple of minor spills. After that, we are let go to conquer the baby hills on our own. It seems natural enough for us to break off into pairs, me and Becca, an irked Troy and a flushed April.

I don’t know Troy all that well, but he seems to be a pretty cool guy. Before today, he’d always come across as easy-going and confident. I glance over at April. She’s wearing a white ski jacket and white-and-blue ski pants that showcase her long legs. She’s beautiful in an obvious way—not that that’s a bad thing. Perfect features, hair with the right amount of curl but it’s her eyes that get you. The contrast between her complexion and those green eyes is stunning. She’s the perfect combination of her biracial makeup. It’s no wonder Troy has a thing for her.

But as beautiful as she is, Becca is hotter. Sexier. As she starts off in front of me, I’m mesmerized by her ass in her ski pants. Pushing off awkwardly because of the lack of traction my skis are getting on the icy patch of snow, I ski after her. I don’t know about school holidays in Canada but I’m thinking they must not coincide with ours because the slopes aren’t crowded. Which is a good thing.

Due to my strength and longer strides, I quickly catch up with Becca. Cheeks flushed pink, she glances over at me and smiles, a smile I feel in my chest and my crotch. I smile back. “You having a good time?”

“Fabulous. Aren’t you?”

Mental note, take Becca skiing when possible. I can figure out how the hell I’ll pay for it when the time comes. Despite my parents’ wealth, I don’t have an endless supply of money at my disposal.

I nod.

We ski along for a bit and when I finally look back, we’re a good distance from the lodge. April and Troy are off to our left, out of earshot but still within shouting distance.

Becca’s breathing is short and choppy by the time she slides inelegantly to a stop. I quickly follow suit.

“You tired? You wanna head back?” I ask, nodding toward the lodge.

Breathing heavily, she plants her poles firmly in the snow. “Give me a minute. I didn’t realize how out of shape I am.” She purses her mouth in a pout. “I hate you. You’re not even out of breath.”

I chuckle. “Good genes.”

“More like ten laps at the swimming pool five times a week.”

“Yeah, there’s that too.”

“I wanted to ask you how things are going with Zach. I noticed that you guys seem to be getting along,” she says, looking both expectant and quietly pleased.

“We’re cool. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t despise me anymore.” Seriously, Zach’s a cool guy and now that I’m getting to know him better I can actually see us hanging out. We may never be like him and Troy or me and Clint.
Compadres. Amis.
Buds. But we’re definitely getting along.

Her shoulders drop in relief and a sigh whispers into the cold air. “Good. Good. I hoped but I wasn’t sure.”

I stifle a smile. Becca’s a regular worrywart.

“One other thing.” Her voice has grown tentative, which immediately puts me on guard.

“About us sharing a room...”

Oh fuck.

“…I think it would be a bad idea to, you know, fool around in the room.” She’s not looking directly at me when she finally manages to spit it out.

It’s only when I don’t respond that she looks at me from under veiled eyes.

She’s got to be fuckin’ kidding me.

“I think it would just make the whole sleeping together thing easier, ya know.”

No I don’t know. Hell, won’t it be easier if we forget about sharing a room much less a bed.

Fuck!

Of course, I’m not going to say any of this shit to her, so I suck it up and suck it in. “Whatever you want.” I’m relieved I manage to sound so nonchalant about it. “Your vacation, your rules.”

She winces. “Scott.”

“No, I mean it. I’m the one who insisted we share a room. If fooling around in the room is going to make you uncomfortable, I get that.”

At her look of skepticism, I insist that I
do
get it.

I don’t. I seriously do not.

Okay, so I’d hoped this trip would help in ending the whole no-sex-until-she’s-ready-to-resume thing. I can be charming. And I know she wants to; that it’s almost as hard for her to hold out as it is for me to not push for more. But not even being able to fool around in the one place we actually have privacy is insane. But she’s dead serious. And by the look she’s giving me, I know she thinks I’m going to fight her on this. Well you know what, I’m not. If no sex means no sex, then she doesn’t need to worry about me putting the moves on her.

Although again, I’m getting the feeling I’m being tested and it’s really beginning to irritate the shit out of me.

“Well good. I’m glad you understand. I just think it’s still too soon for us.”

“Yeah, I think I’m actually starting to agree with you about that.” My voice is all sincerity.

Her head literally snaps back and I can see the entire whites of her eyes. I try not to feel too smug about her reaction.

“Really?” she croaks.

I smile, feeling immensely satisfied. “Yeah, I do.” No need to elaborate. There’s nothing else to say.

“W-well then that’s good. I’m, uh, glad we’re both on the same page,” she says weakly.

Shading my eyes with my gloved hand, I glance up ahead and then over at Becca. “You ready to go or do you still need to rest?”

A look of consternation flashes across her face. With one final puzzled look at me, her mouth pushes up into a smile. “No I’m good. Let’s go.”

I’m glad we’re both on the same page.

She has no idea how much.

CHAPTER TWELVE

R
EBECCA

Scott is now okay with us
not
having sex? What the hell?

Yes, I’m a big hypocrite, something I’m only now coming to terms with. A. BIG. FAT. HYPOCRITE.

I should be happy that I have such an understanding boyfriend but I’m not. Don’t even ask me. I’m a mess. Obviously.

We came back from the slopes an hour ago and after changing into warm, dry clothes, Scott went downstairs to hang out with the guys. I told him I’d be right down. I need to call my mom. But first I’m trying to figure out what’s going on.

My cell rings in my hands, interrupting the vigorous racking I’m giving my brain.

Mom calling.

Speak of the devil. “Hey, Mom.” I force a certain level of perkiness into my voice when I answer.

“
You didn’t call me.”

“
I swear, Mom, I was just about to.”

She snorts lightly. “I’m the least of your priorities right now.”

I click the speaker button and sink onto the bed. “Well we arrived safely.”

We chat for a few minutes. I ask how things are going at home, namely the job she can barely tolerate but won’t leave because it pays well and she’s accumulated six weeks of vacation she doesn’t want to lose by starting over somewhere else. She asks about the place. By the time I finish describing it, she claims to be dying of jealousy. She’s not. That’s just my mom talking.

“
Thanks again for the money, Mom. The second I make enough money, I’m going to send you on the vacation of your life.” And I’m not just saying that. Last year she gave me the money for my trip to Paris—which wasn’t cheap—and now this. When my mom told me she could finally afford to buy a house for us, I knew we were doing a lot better financially, but it was only when she insisted I go on the trip to Paris with my French class did I truly believe our financial situation had really changed.

“
Listen, honey…”

Uh oh. She's using the I-have-bad-news-for-you-tone.

“
About the money. That actually wasn’t me.”

“
What do you mean it wasn’t you,” I say, half laughing because she’s not really making sense.

Dead silence filters across the cell tower to me. Then I hear a weighty sigh and I know my mother is about to say something I’m probably not going to want to hear.

“
Your father is the one who’s paying for your trip.”

My first instinct is to deny I have a father,
again
. On second thought, I decide not to waste my breath.

“
Why?” I ask calmly.

“
Why what, sweetie?”

“
Why would he pay for my trip? No, I know the answer to that one. He’s trying to buy me like he’s been trying to do since I was sixteen. What I really want to know is why didn’t you tell me?” That’s when something else occurs to me. “Wait, did he pay for my Paris trip too?”