THE CABIN'S KITCHEN IS WAY WARMER and a little bit darker as the trio settle in.
Fallon instantly moves for the cooker, tugging off her hand gloves and tilting her palms over its welcome warmth. She moans in delight at the temperature increase while Aaron strides over to a raised cabinet.
The faint aroma of freshly-baked bread hangs in the air and Arielle settles herself down on a stool, watching calmly as Aaron pulls out a tub of hot chocolate.
Fallon leaves the stove and walks across to Arielle, taking the stool beside her. The room falls silent and both women stare at the brooding male before them.
He leans down and pulls open a coal oven. The aroma of sweetened bread hits them harder and the women salivate, all the while fascinated by his silent movements. A man that cooks too? Fallon wonders. Aaron fucking Silver is slowly becoming her Dream of a man.
He places the loaf on a tray and knifes it open. The bread comes apart like butter in his skilled hands, and Arielle spots little pieces of coconut embedded in the cream bun.
Slowly, he spreads the chocolate over the slices. It forms an enticing pattern on the bread and Arielle flushes hot.
Standing there with his hands deep in hot sweetness, Arielle can think of nothing more than hot, sweaty sex between the sheets to dispel the cold.
Fallon clears her throat and Arielle looks to her. Her hazel eyes glint back at her. As it turns out, Fallon Fiske was thinking the exact same thing; the pleasure of unraveling the beautiful man/wolf/care giver/chef in front of them in the most sultry positions ever.
An unspoken agreement passes over both women and they seal it with a smile. Neither Fallon nor Arielle would hesitate to fuck the winter out of Aaron—maybe the both of them, who knows? She knows she would just love to see his gorgeous golden eyes go dark in pleasure.
A creaking sound signals the close of a door and both women instantly turn to Aaron. He just stands before them, solemn as a Priest.
Perfect slices of chocolate-buttered bread rests on the tray. Arielle glances to the side and counts four plates. Four? They were only three. Unless?
Her silent question recieves an immediate reply as a voice like that of an Aegean siren settles on their ears.
Arielle thinks, 'WHAT THE FUCK!'