StormingLove Blizzard JensElliot by Sara York Page A

the pavement, but more took their place, building up faster than the ground could melt them.
    This was the beginning. He’d be snowed in. Not that Boston usually came to a standstill when it snowed. It wasn’t the South, where everything stopped for three days if one flake fell, but already the roads were covered, and the snow wasn’t abating.
    The place he was staying was around the back of a three-story Victorian knockoff. The wood paneling on these houses wasn’t really wood but siding that was already starting to fade. The driveway was covered with snow, and the lawn, too. He left a trail in the snow, marking his path as he trudged to the back of the property. Ryland wasn’t taking care of this place. The bushes looked overgrown, the tree limbs sagging. A small overhang shaded the porch from the snowfall, allowing him a clean spot to place his bag. He pulled out his phone and turned on the flashlight, shining it on the entry keypad. After a quick check on the notes on his phone, he typed in the four-digit code, and the lock clicked open. The room was up a short set of stairs and through a glass door.
    In the little stairwell, Jens removed his jacket and hung it on the coat tree, wrapping his scarf over the top, hoping everything would dry before he needed to use it again. He picked up his bag of groceries, his backpack, and his suitcase, pleased to be at the room where he could kick off his shoes, take off his clothes, and snuggle under the covers to read before going to sleep. Already the place felt homier than a hotel. His morning alarms were off, and he planned to catch up on sleep since the city would be coated with snow.
    Jens opened the door at the top of the stairs, pleased to find that a lamp had been left on for him. Ryland was being too nice. They’d dated once, just for a few short weeks before they figured out they were too much alike to actually date without killing each other. That was when they both lived in DC years ago.
    The room was large, with a three-person table set against one wall near the kitchen. The bed looked to be a queen and was covered by a fluffy comforter. The pillows looked soft, and he couldn’t wait to get comfortable.
    He took off his shoes and socks, reaching into his bag for his thicker socks that he wore around the house when the cold weather hit. With his socks on, he decided to strip and get really comfortable in his sweats and a T-shirt. His pants were damp from trudging through the snow, so he threw them over the back of a kitchen chair and draped his shirt over the corner of the chair.
    He’d bent to pick up his sweats when a door popped open behind him. He rose quickly, almost falling over as he spun around. A totally naked man stepped out of what seemed to be the bathroom, his hands busy rubbing a towel over his hair with all of his body on display.
    Jens’ mind went blank, and he stilled. He fought to keep his eyes on the guy’s face, or at least on his neck, but his gaze dipped, straying to the guy’s cock that lay ever so nicely over his low-hanging balls.
    “Shit,” the guy said, his voice sharp as the towel moved to cover his privates that Jens had just been staring at.
    Jens glanced up, his mouth dry. Adrenalin made itself known as his muscles clenched, and his body began shaking. “Who—why are you here?”
    “I have the room for the night. I talked to Adam. He said it was fine.” The guy’s voice was high and agitated, snapping Jens out of his thoughts.
    “Adam, who the hell is Adam?” Jens asked, his anger rising with each second.
    “The guy who owns this place.”
    “No, Ryland owns it. He said—”
    “Damn, that boy—hell, Adam is friends with Ryland. They bought this place together. At least that’s what they told me.”
    “God, this is impossible.” Jens turned to look at his bag, shocked to see his clothes over the chair. He looked down, realizing that he was standing in front of a stranger in nothing but his underwear—his very