“I’m up for that.”

He slapped her on the ass. “Good. Get your warm clothes on. ’Cause there’s a pile of logs we need to split and stack.”

“You sneaky jerk! I thought we were gonna get naked and wild.”

He raised a brow. “During the day? When there’s work to be done? Surely an experienced ranch woman such as yourself knows better than that.”

“You suck.”

Another slap to her ass. “No sassing me. Get cracking.”

Chapter Fourteen

His wife was so f**king hot it was a miracle the snow wasn’t melting all around her.

They’d been hauling and stacking wood for the last two hours. Day started to fade, turning the horizon the hazy purple color exclusive to a twilight winter sky. Normally it was Kyle’s favorite time of day.

But the scenery paled in comparison to Celia. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Wearing stained Carhartt coveralls over a girly pink thermal shirt. She’d donned a neon orange Elmer Fudd hat, and pushed the earflaps out, the bill of the cap tugged down so low he could barely see her eyes. Her gloves were new and she kept tugging on them, so every once in a while he’d get a glimpse of her wrists. And his c**k would pulse against his zipper.

Which made him feel like an idiot. Celia’s wrists turned him on, for chrissake.

“Kyle! Are you even paying attention?” she yelled.

No, little wife of mine. I’m too busy admiring the beautiful flush on your cheeks, and the sexy way your braid swings against your ass.

“Yes. Stop nagging me.”

She harrumphed.

During his next two trips to the woodshed, he decided to call it a day. Drag her inside. Fuck her until neither of them could walk. Hope that outstanding sex—lots and lots of body-rocking sex—would keep her interested in sticking around.

Smack. Something hit him in the middle of the back. When he whirled around, a snowball hit his chest, and snow exploded in his face. He stared at her dumbfounded for a millisecond, before another blast of snow hit his forehead. “Jesus, Celia. What the hell?”

“I’m not hauling this wood by myself, while you’re lollygagging.”

As soon as the word lollygagging exited her mouth another snowball hit him in the neck.

“That’s it!” Kyle bent down and scooped up a handful of snow, forming a ball as he charged her.

Celia shrieked, and ducked to grab from the stack of snowballs she had stockpiled at her feet. When the hell had she had time to do that?

She let fly with deadly accuracy.

By the time Kyle was within ten feet of her, he looked like the Abominable Snowman.

Laughing, she bobbed and weaved, taunting him, continuing to cover him in snow. She’d run out of ammo and was just flinging handfuls of snow at him.

So she was very surprised when he dove for her feet, knocking her off balance. Celia landed on her butt. Before she could roll away, Kyle pounced on her. Immobilizing her legs, he pinned her arms above her head. Then he swept his free arm across the freshly fallen snow, spraying her face.

“Stop!”

“You started it.”

While she was still sputtering death threats, he scooped up a glove full of snow and shoved it down her shirt.

Celia screamed bloody murder, thrashing beneath him like a bull in a bucking chute. “That’s cheating!”

“Shoulda thought of that before you declared a snow war.”

“I was just trying to get your attention.”

“Well, you’ve got it now.” He put his warm mouth against her cold ear.

She writhed, attempting to squirm away while gasping for breath.

Then Kyle put his cold nose at the base of her throat where her shoulder met her neck. He opened his mouth on that sensitive sweep of flesh and sucked.

“Oh God. That’s not…fair.”

Her skin was warm, but cooling from the snow melting on her chest. He growled at the taste of her sweat and the heady aroma of her damp hair. He slid down between her thighs and rocked his pelvis into hers as he feasted on her skin.

Celia moaned as his mouth followed the collar of her shirt to the top of her coveralls. He couldn’t dip his tongue any farther and she released a frustrated groan.

He pressed kisses along her jaw to her other ear when she arched back, offering him her throat. “I want you all the time, Celia. But f**k, I want you right now.” He licked the hollow of her throat. “Say something.”

“You’re crushing my ribs,” she whispered.

“Shit. Sorry.”

As soon as he’d relaxed his hold, Celia lifted her hips, twisted her shoulders, and flipped him onto his back, using her considerable body strength to hold him down.

Son of a bitch.

She laughed seductively and then her mouth was on his. Feeding him such hot, openmouthed kisses he could almost forgive her for her trick.

Almost.

Kyle freed one arm and yanked off her hat.

When she raised her head, he gained the advantage, hooked his leg over both of hers, and rolled her.

But Celia was ready. They tumbled across the snow like a couple of runaway logs before coming to a stop with him on top.

He eased back to gaze into her eyes and felt that sharp jab in his gut. Not merely lust but something primal. Helpless against that feeling, he took her mouth in a desperate kiss. Passion that’d been on simmer boiled over. Gloves flew. He unhooked the fasteners on her overalls and she attempted to pull off his coat. He rutted on her and she met each long grind of his pelvis with one of her own.