"Then I shall wear it more often," Carrick responded, moving closer and tucking himself against Russell's body. He laid his head on the same pillow and closed his eyes for a moment, his arm around the other man.
"It's still snowing," he said quietly. "Almost harder than before."
His eyes opened when he felt Russell's hands pushing apart the neck of the dressing gown, his gaze smoky and languid as the warm hands ran over his skin. He drew in a slow breath, his chest arching up into the touch as a claw ran over his skin, teasingly sharp.