Here, let me help." Owen grabbed a slice of toast with butter and jelly and held it up to her mouth.
She took a big bite. She looked up and found his eyes blazing, that odd light flickering faintly behind the blue and brown. "What could possibly be turning you on about this situation?
What?"
Her breathing stuttered at the thought of tasting the sweet cream off his skin. "Nothing."
"No, tell me." He stepped closer.
She shook her head. "Why mint and peach?"
He quirked a crooked smile. "Mint for fresh breath, peach because it's breakfast. You know, fruit."
"I don't think peach ice cream counts as fruit."
"What's that right there?" He pointed to the hunks of frozen orange buried in the mounds of ice cream overflowing his bowl.
"Peach, but--"
"Nuh uh. No but. It's peach. Case closed." He lifted the bowl and took a big bite.
Clothes. Too many clothes."
"Mmm. Couldn't agree more." Fingers threaded under her panties at both hips and pulled them off.
Megan gasped, drew her legs up and closed out of surprise. She pointed, pretending outrage. "You! Not me, you!"
His self-satisfied smirk told her he'd known just what she'd meant.
-Owen and Megan
Good with languages," she murmured. With everything she learned about him, he got more and more interesting. Or more mysterious, depending on how you looked at it. "So, good with languages, shovels, and igloos. Anything else?"
The smug look he tossed at her was so wicked it shivered right down her spine. Walked right into that, hadn't she. She shook her head and, looking away to hide her blush, moved her cardboard forward one spot. Without a doubt, he would be good at...other stuff. Jesus.
And now I'm here for you, Megan. I am enchanted, as surely as if you were the goddess and I the mortal."
-Owen
Without the death of winter, there is no rebirth of spring.
Laura KayeThank God the Power Rangers showed up when they did, or he wouldn’t have been responsible for his actions.
Laura KayeAfter all, he'd been in the United States Army Special Forces, fuck you very much. You might take the man out of the SF, you couldn't take the SF out of the man. He'd been up against some of the world's meanest and toughest. So, goddamn straight he could work his way around one young woman.
Laura KayeHer eyes raked over his body, drinking in his tousled black hair, miles of bare skin and cut muscles, the black trail of curls that led down to his pajama bottoms, which had settled low on his hips. Dangerously low.
Damn. She couldn't have built a better model if she'd tried. Even in the dim pre-morning light, his physical perfection was obvious.
Movement drew her gaze back to his face and she blushed. Dark eyes blazed up at her. Totally busted.
She inhaled a deep breath and prayed her mother wouldn't freak out. "I, um, met someone?" Also not exactly true, but she wasn't broaching the whole he's-an-ancientgod-who-came-to-life-through-my-snowman conversation. Not yet anyway. Maybe not ever.
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