His Snow Bunny by Poppy Parkes

Author:Poppy Parkes [Parkes, Poppy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Parkes Publishing
Published: 2020-03-18T04:00:00+00:00

Winter

“Give me five minutes.”

That’s what Gabe said.

At least, I think that’s what he said. It’s all muddy now.

I gave him an hour.

Finally, cheeks throbbing with shame, I’d slipped from his room and dashed to mine.

I’d wanted him to know that I was giving him my virginity because he was worthy of it. He made my heart go pitter-patter — and made other parts of me beg to be sucked, swirled, and thoroughly fucked.

But somehow he took this news as an affront. He ran out of the room like he’d seen a ghost, muttering something about “fixing this.”

Does he think I’m something broken to be tinkered with until I’m fixed to his liking? I hadn’t pegged him as that kind of asshole.

I’m not usually wrong in my gut-level assessments of people. But I guess there’s a first time for everything.

Now it’s morning and I’m aching with both the loss of Gabe and the hangover that’s thanks to the four remaining miniature bottles of champagne that I’d downed last night before succumbing to blessed unconsciousness

I didn’t want him to go.

But he left me. And now I have to go through the motions surviving the rest of this weekend requires — all without having Gabe’s presence and electric touch to look forward to.

A knock at my door makes me jump, then groan at my head’s protestations. Hauling my carcass off the bed, still glad in yesterday night’s dress, I stagger to open the door.

A wild thought overtakes my sanity — it’s him. Gabe. He’s come back to me, just like he said he would.

Heart fluttering and knees trembling, I yank the door in and open.

Standing at the threshold of my resort room is — my stomach clenches — a woman wearing a name tag that reads “Paula.”

“You’re late for your session with Brett,” she says, eyes on the clipboard she’s scribbling something on. When I don’t answer, her eyes flick up and she winces. “Oof, you look like shit.”

Great. Just what I was hoping to hear this morning. Fantastic.

“We’ll have to move your session, get you into some makeup.” She crooks an eyebrow at me. “Heavy makeup.” Taking her phone from her pocket, she starts typing out a text, thumbs flying. “Okay,” she says, hitting the “send” button. “It’s all arranged. Wash your face, change your clothes, and get down to the ballroom as soon as you can.”

I nod and she flits off, leaving me with my apparently hideous visage and complaining cranium.

Shutting the door, I head to the bathroom to check out the damage. I blink against the bright light and peer into the mirror.

Okay then. Paula was not wrong. I do look like shit. Like a whole damn putrid pile of it.

Arms feeling like lead, I wash away the raccoon eyes and the lipstick Gabe smeared all over my face with his kisses.

The thought of him is like a knife through the ribs. I don’t know how I read him so wrong.

But clearly, I did. Otherwise my raccoon eyes and smeared

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