"People here are scared of winter. A little ice on the road and they shut the city down�tell them snow is coming and they stock up on batteries and canned goods." This was his first winter since moving to Austin, and I�m sure it wasn�t what he was expecting. We don�t really do winter here. Then again, we don�t do any seasons that aren�t summer. And this was the first actual snowfall I�d seen since I moved here in the early �80s.

But you could hardly call it snow. I mean, it was snowing, but it wasn�t sticking at all. Too warm for that. Still beautiful, though, and peaceful. Just about the best weather I could imagine. I love the feel of brisk, cold air on my skin�any excuse to wear a soft, snuggly sweater and my old beat-up denim jacket. And any time I can see Clay dressed for cold weather, I�m all for it. That bit of rosiness on his cheeks didn�t hurt either.

"What is it about snow that makes it so quiet?" I wondered aloud. "We don't get quiet here much."

Clay tried to suppress a giggle. "Not with you around." I failed to suppress the urge to smack him on the butt, and he had the audacity to act surprised. "Hey, what was that for?"

"You're lucky we didn't have any real snow or you'd have a snowball whipped at your head. As it is, the best you'd get is a cold ball of frozen leaves�" My voice trailed off as I searched the ground for a pile of slush big enough to form into a ball, but no such luck.

When I looked up, he was looking excitedly into the distance. Just as I focused on what he was looking at, he grabbed my hand and started dragging me toward the playground.

"Come on!"

Clay let go of my hand as we reached the playground, and stopped at the swings. He picked up one swing and tried to shake the snow off, but it wasn�t budging. He grabbed the end of his sleeve and used it to brush the snow away. When it was sufficiently clean, he dropped the swing and turned to face me.

He then took off his glasses and placed them in the breast pocket on the inside of his coat. Ah-ha�I know what that means. I couldn�t help but flash him a knowing smile as I toyed with the end of his long, striped scarf.

Clay looked down into my eyes, tucked a few stray hairs under the edge of my knit cap with his gloved hand, and smiled back at me. He�s so confident, and he knows me so well. He knows what he wants, and he knows all he has to do is look at me that way, and I�m ready to give it. But, outside? In the snow? This was a new one for me, and I�ll bet it was a first for him, too.

He sat down, and stretched out his long legs. I reached up and grabbed onto the chains, pulling myself up almost like a chin-up and slid my legs down around him, straddling his lap.

"Hmmm�impressive," he said, only a little surprised by my strength.

"Oh yeah, I can snap you like a twig, tough guy." It�s a good thing he finds that funny. Guys are typically intimidated by a strong woman, but he�s not typical at all�I have yet to discover anything about him that I�d call "typical."

While I could just reach the ground behind him with my toes, his feet were flat and he swung us gently, until he realized that we needed a bit more stability or we were gonna topple out of the swing. We held onto each other as we began to kiss, but it looked like one of us needed to hang on to the chains. I volunteered, which not only gave him the freedom to run his hands anywhere on me he liked (and that�s just what he likes), but it limited my movement a bit, which, as it turns out, he also likes.

Clay slipped his hands into my open jacket and ran them along my back, pulling himself closer as he kissed me. Very slow, very warm, very soft. I found myself kissing him with my eyes open, which I never did with anyone else before. I guess I love looking at him too much to miss anything�and he does look amazing when he�s kissing me.

I slid my lips past his just a little and kissed his cheek, then moved my mouth slowly down to his jawline, planting a row of tiny kisses along it. He tipped his head back, knowing I could spend all day kissing his neck if given the chance, but on that day he was wearing a turtleneck, and it was in my way. Such a frustrating garment�how can I love them so much on him and yet hate the restricted access of them? He sensed it was making me crazy, and laughed when I grabbed the neck of his shirt with my teeth and growled like a dog, tugging on it.

"Down girl!" he whispered, playfully. I let go and looked into his eyes again. "You never let me have any fun," I told him, sticking my lower lip out. I suppose he took that as a challenge, because now he seemed more determined than usual to give me an awful lot of fun.

He pressed his hands against my back and began kissing me again, this time with much more obvious intent. I found myself squirming a little in his lap, rubbing myself against him, and he was quite responsive to that. His hands shifted lower, caressing my waist and hips, encouraging me to move even more, and I obliged. The more I could feel how much he was enjoying it, the more I wanted to grind against him.

He brought one of his hands around to the front, seeking out the bottom hem of my sweater, and he slipped his fingers underneath it. He slowly moved his touch up my stomach, stopping only briefly before working his fingers underneath the band of my bra. I don�t know if it was the cold, the intensity of the moment, or a combination of both, but I was especially sensitive just then, and when he discovered my already stiff nipple, I inhaled sharply. He shifted his hand slightly, spreading his fingers so that he could caress both of my breasts at the same time, watching my face as he teased me with those long, leather-clad fingers. He knows I have a bit of a thing about leather and his sly, crooked smile let me know he knew I was thinking about those gloves as he touched me.

Even though we were in a public place, it was so quiet and deserted that I forgot we were outside. All I could see was his incredible, loving face, those intense, heavy-lidded eyes, snowflakes melting on angel-kissed cheeks�all I could hear was his soft, deep whispers and my own heartbeat.

Clay pressed his feet against the ground and shifted his hips, rocking them upward slightly, leaning back just a little. Holding onto those chains, it was difficult for me to lean forward, but he wasn�t about to stop kissing me.

His hands went to my hips and held me tightly, almost as if he was afraid of falling. I steadied myself with my toes on the ground, but my legs started to feel weak and were shaking a little. I tried to support myself by pulling up a bit with my arms, and that shift changed the pressure between us just enough that I was now teetering on the brink of total collapse, made more dangerous by the change in his expression. His eyelids dropped, revealing snowflakes that had just lighted on his lashes, his nose crinkled, his eyebrows came together just slightly, and his breathing changed�he opened his sparkling eyes and, in hushed words meant only for me, said:

"Wow...It's amazing, even through all these clothes I can tell you're really wet."

How did he know that saying those words to me at that moment was all I needed to push me over the edge? I bit my lip to keep from crying out. My eyes instinctively slammed shut, but I forced them open again, fearing I would miss one second of gazing at him. I hadn't realized it but he must have been close too, because his hands gripped me even tighter around my hips and pulled me down to his lap. His head and shoulders rose closer to my face with a delightful amount of strain indicated on his furrowed brow. He kissed me over and over, quickly, between bursts of breath, and locked his gaze with mine, watching me as he felt my body quake and tremble against him. Just as I started to relax, his hands moved up my back in a more gentle embrace. My forehead fell against his, the clouds of our breath mixing together, and in a low, gravelly whisper, he said my name, again and again.