Read Online Melted and Whipped by Cleo Pietsche - Free Book Online

Ten
    Even though my body is wrung out and exhausted, I wake after what feels like a brief period of sleep. Instantly I remember where I am—and who’s in bed with me.
    Moving as quietly as I can, I turn onto my side. There’s enough moonlight filtering through the window for me to see that Porter is asleep.
    He’s so beautiful, I think as I study his features. Yes, his nose is large and a little crooked, but in an unapologetic, masculine way. A lot of people with his means might have been tempted to get it “fixed,” to make it conform to society’s standards of what a nose should look like.
    I feel like it says a lot about Porter. He’s not selfish—the last few hours are irrefutable proof of that—but he doesn’t care what others think.
    Even though I’m dying to lean across the expanse of cool sheets so I can share his space, I force myself to lie quietly on my back, and I close my eyes.
    But sleep eludes me.
    This is too new, too exciting. From the firmness of the mattress to the silky texture of the sheets to the light pine and smoke scent of the room, my senses are overwhelmed. The more I try to relax, the faster my heart beats.
    Porter Loughton is in bed with me. We had sex. Kinky sex. Mildly kinky? Well, it wasn’t like anything I’d done before.
    Porter won’t mind, I’m certain, if I go sit in the living room. I can watch television or flip through a book. The latter appeals to me, so I quietly slip out of bed, all the while taking care not to disturb Porter.
    I visit the bathroom. A striped navy blue and forest green robe is hanging on the back of the door. It’s unabashedly masculine, but I don’t see any others, so I slip into it after I wash my hands. Then I wait until the toilet is silent before I ease open the door.
    Porter is still asleep. I glide into the hallway without making a sound.
    Once the door is closed behind me, I relax. Faint lights line one edge of the hallway, and even though it’s not enough to read by, I can certainly see where I’m going.
    Somehow I make it to the living room without getting lost. I stand at the window and stare out over the moonlit valley, losing myself in the jagged outline of trees.
    I love these mountains, these forests, but I’ve never seen them like this. I guess most people haven’t.
    The only view from my living room is a brick wall, the side of a ski equipment rental store. But within minutes, I can be standing at the top of a mountain. Maybe not my own private mountain, but I’m more than happy to share.
    Even if I’d stayed at my office job for a century, I never could have afforded a place like Porter’s. Okay, I probably could have swung it for a week with a group of friends. A large group.
    Maybe it’s because Porter asked me about my goals, but I find myself thinking about my business plan. My sister gave me a hardback notebook to record everything related to my potential next career. According to my calculations, I need another five thousand dollars in savings. Which is to say that I need five thousand total. I’m not irresponsible, but it’s impossible to save money. My apartment is both crappy and expensive, and I’m lucky the landlady hasn’t kicked me out so she can rent it to tourists for fifteen hundred bucks a week.
    The town is full of people who aged out of their jobs giving skiing and snowboarding lessons. Now they work as bartenders, baristas, and waiters. They migrate to the city in the summer, when it’s slower, sacrificing stability to stay near the powder that keeps them alive.
    The ones who do leave… One thing is certain: if they’re not on the mountain, then whatever they’re doing, however much money they’re making, they can’t be happy.
    The sky is beginning to grow lighter, I think, though it’s difficult to know for sure. Part of me wants this quiet night to last forever. I feel peaceful here. At least I can think about the future without becoming completely panicked.
    I wonder if it’s because the