Chr istmas was a bullshit time of year. My dad and his step-bitch always catered a cocktail party for the rich and soulless in their gigantic house in the Hollywood Hills. My mom and the boy toy she kept as her plaything stayed in her condo on the beach in Bora Bora. Both parentals invited me to stay with them during the holidays. Sounded fucking exciting, right? Yeah, I didn’t think so either. I realized very early after their divorce that choosing one parent over the other meant months of torturous jabs from the “jilted” parent until the next year. I wasn’t having that shit. So I chose neither. Sometimes I’d go out with friends. Once I had a pussy boyfriend, but usually I just hung out alone. This year was different though. This year I received an invitation I was more than excited to accept. Have you ever met a person and fallen instantly in love? I hadn’t either. And honestly I didn’t think that was what I felt for Lincoln. Our one and only dinner date had produced chemistry and a kiss that left my pussy wet and my knees trembling, but I hadn’t heard form him in weeks. Lincoln was John Zane’s bodyguard. And in Hollywood everyone knew who John Zane was. Everyone wanted to be in a John Zane film. More than half of Hollywood’s actresses had been or wanted to be in his bed and more then half the men longed for him to switch teams. He was the man. And Lincoln kept him safe. Except not this time. I didn’t know where Zane was but Lincoln had asked me to meet him in Park City for the holidays. I jumped at the chance. Ever since I met him on the set for one of John Zane’s movies, I’d been smitten. Head over heels. Gaga. And a complete moron. Smitten sounded sweeter. He was hot and reminded me of Dwayne Johnson in size, but he was much better looking. Dark hair. Dark eyes. Just thinking about him lit my thighs on fire.
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The Hummer limousine turned down a long snowy drive. Pine trees stood at attention on either side of the road, blocking out anything beyond them. The branches, the wood fence, and the sprawling hotel were dusted in white. It reminded me of the powdered sugar my grandmother would sprinkle over freshly baked gingerbread cookies. The sky was thick with falling snow. Tall drifted snow pressed against the trees and fence posts. The wind howled, forcing a thin layer of snow along the ground. The movement reminded me of apparitions fleeing the subzero temperatures. Behind the quaint lodgings stood the Rocky Mountains. They were ominous, and I couldn’t help the shudder that ran through me. I looked out the back window for probably the tenth time since I’d been in the vehicle. But I wanted to be careful. We were the only car on the road. I hugged my leather jacket closer. My movements caught the eye of the driver and he smirked. “ Are you expecting someone?” “N-No.” I thought quickly. “I’ve never seen snow up close before. Who knew it could be so cold ?” “ You should’ve worn something warmer, Mrs.—” “ Mindy,” I said, pulling my mini skirt as far down my thighs as it would go. “And, yeah, obviously.” I crossed my arms. The driver pushed some buttons on the dash to his right and I felt the heater kick up. “Thank you,” I said , and he smiled. I didn’t have warmer clothes in my suitcase , either, but I hadn’t dressed or packed for the outdoors. All I’d been thinking about was what Lincoln might like. I didn’t know what his tastes were. On our one and only date I’d worn a low cut wrap dress with black heels. It was sexy but sophisticated—my friends and I called that style sexticated . The way Lincoln checked me out more than once that night indicated he liked what I wore so I’d packed more like that. My suitcase was full of sexticated clothes. The driver pulled the limo to a stop at the entrance. A bellhop in a thick parka came out and pulled open the door. When he saw me he raised an