The tip of his index finger rolled an imaginary ball around the rim of her belly button and then dipped to the waistband of her low-ride jeans. He unfastened them. He unzipped them, too. But just when she thought he would dive inside—just when she wanted him to—he didn’t.
Instead he coursed his palm and the heel of his hand on the outside of her jeans to cup her, pressing fingers to that spot that definitely didn’t want the barrier of denim as interference.
It occurred to her then that denim was interfering on another front, too, and she suddenly wanted to be rid of it there as well. So she let her own hands go from their exploration of his amazing torso and his own taut male nibs, down his flat belly to the waistband of his jeans.
There was far more pressure coming to bear from inside his than hers. The waistband button popped easily and the zipper nearly opened itself.
What remained of their clothes came off rapidly then—but not before Dax took protection from his jeans pocket.
And there they were, together again on the quilt in front of the fire, naked body to naked body.
He kissed her once more, his mouth soft, supple, so, so sexy as his hand worked at her breast and one heavy thigh came over hers to rise between her legs.
Shandie could feel the long steely shaft of him against her side and she slipped her hand between them until she could close it around him.
He moaned a guttural moan that let her know just how glad he was to have her there as she learned the full length and breadth of the man while he slid his own hand from her breast, down her stomach and took that same dip he’d taken on the outside of her jeans before, this time without anything standing between them.
The small of her back rose off the quilt when he first touched her, when that initial finger slid inside. There was no controlling anything then—she wanted him, she needed him, and she couldn’t have hidden it even if she’d tried.
But she didn’t try. She opened her legs in invitation and after he’d quickly sheathed himself he raised above her, positioning himself where only his thigh had been before.
His hands were on the floor near her ears, elbows locked to hold his upper half high. Yet still he dropped his head to retake her mouth with his as his lower half came to her. Slowly and with care he entered her in one lithe, smooth sweep until she was filled with the grandeur that was Dax.
His tongue gave her a sneak preview, jutting into her mouth and out again. Then he lowered himself enough to draw her breast into that same moist, honeyed cave, pulling in her engorged flesh and letting his tongue make light, quick strikes to her nipple before he arched his back and pushed his hips completely into her, sealing them together.
She tightened her muscles around him and savored the feel of his big body over her, in her, as he began the ride that every ounce of her was screaming for. In and out, oh so slowly.
Then not so slowly.
Then so rapidly that she could only cling to him as he built in her a crystalline mountain of ever-in-creasing need. A mountain that he was helping her to climb, taking her higher and higher to where the air was so thin she could hardly breathe, to where she didn’t need to breathe, to where there was only the two of them, their bodies one, striving for that peak that seemed unreachable until she broke through to the highest point, to the summit.
She froze in the throes of an ecstasy more pristine, more intense, more forceful and exquisite than anything she’d ever experienced, able only to hang on to him as he reached that same moment when everything exploded, when he, too, could only stay fixed in place and let his climax wash over him, through him, and carry them both to the other side.
Until the descent was all that was left…
Dax let out a thick, replete sigh.
Shandie became aware of the rise and fall of her breasts as she began to breathe again.
Dax’s elbows buckled. He eased himself down to her, pulsing within her as if he’d found his home. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her shoulder, and she just let herself indulge for that moment in the wonderful sensation of their bodies fitted together so flawlessly.
Only after a while did he raise up again to look at her, to kiss her a long, lingering, sweet kiss before he slipped out of her and rolled to lie on his back. But even then he brought her with him to curve against his side and use his chest as a pillow.
“Wow,” he whispered.
Shandie smiled against him. “Wow,” she agreed in a whisper of her own.
Neither of them said anything else. They merely lay in each other’s arms, legs entwined, her hand on his chest, his hand massaging the lowest curve of her back.
They stayed that way for a very long time. Dozing off and on. Shandie was lost in the primal feel of flesh to flesh, both of them wrapped in the quilt, warmed by the fire, dusted with the multicolored glow of Christmas lights.
Until real sleep was becoming unavoidable.
Then Dax kissed the top of her head and in a raspy voice said, “I’d like to be, but I don’t think I should be here when Kayla gets up.”
“No, probably not,” Shandie agreed.
“I hate to go, though,” he said, his tone so filled with regret she knew he meant it.
“I hate for you to go, too.”
Still, neither of them moved. Or said anything else for another long while.
But then Dax sighed resignedly, hugged Shandie tight and kissed her—a deep, profound kiss.
“I’m gonna go,” he told her when he’d ended it. “I don’t want you to get up yet or walk me to the door because if you do, I won’t be able to make myself leave. So wait, okay?”
“Okay,” she agreed again, understanding because it was just too, too tempting to take him upstairs to her bed instead and worry about the morning when morning came.
He kissed her once again, another even deeper kiss that came very close to starting things all over.
But before he let that happen, he got up, covering her with the quilt before he stood.
It was divine torture to watch him dress in the firelight. To see that incredible, muscular male body in all its glory being stolen from her sight as he pulled on each article of clothing.
When he was finished, he knelt down beside her and she drank in what she knew was her last look at him that night—his tight sweater hugging his torso, the turtleneck brushing his chiseled jawline, his hair rumpled and roguish—and she just wanted to pull him back under the quilt and undress him again.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, bending to kiss her one last time.
“Okay,” she responded, watching him get to his feet again.
Then he leaned down once more, stroked her hair, whispered, “Good night,” and left.
And as she stayed there wrapped in the quilt, listening to the sounds of him leaving, she told herself that it was better that he hadn’t spent the night. That they hadn’t gone up to her bed. That he wouldn’t be here in the morning.
And not only for the sake of Kayla.
It was also better because even at that moment Shandie had to fight to keep in mind that whatever this was between them, it wasn’t a serious thing.
It couldn’t be.
But keeping that in mind was a struggle.
Because in her heart of hearts, it seemed like more than that.
Chapter Nine
Monday was yet another day when not a single customer darkened the door of Dax’s shop. But unlike every other day, he hadn’t spent the time feeling sorry for himself.
And the sole reason for that was Shandie.
Making love with her the night before had rocked his world. In more ways than one. The lovemaking itself had been like nothing that had come before it, and it had done something to him that he couldn’t fully comprehend. Something that had left him in a whole new frame of mind. And in that new frame of mind, not only were his empty hours filled with thoughts of her, they were also filled with thoughts about the things Shandie had said, including what she’d said about diversifying his
business.
As a result, at three o’clock that afternoon, he closed up for the day and went to the resort to see Grant Clifton.
But now it was after four, and he and Grant were sitting at a table in the resort’s lush Western-style lounge. They were nursing coffee, Dax had laid out the idea of supplying snowmobiles and ATVs to the resort and acting as guide to lead resort guests on excursions into the mountains on them. But rather than responding to it, Grant was simply staring at him, leaving Dax unsure how great the idea was after all.
“Look, it’s okay if you don’t think this will fly or you don’t think Russ will want to invest in it right now or you guys don’t want to do business with a friend,” he said to give Grant an excuse, hiding his own disappointment. “I won’t take offense. It was just a thought I wanted to run by you.”
“No, it isn’t any of that,” Grant said, shaking his head, looking a little wide-eyed. “It’s that I can’t believe what I’m seeing and hearing here.”
“Geez, I didn’t think it was that over the top.”
“The idea? The idea is great. It’s what we’re looking for on a couple of different levels. The resort already has four snowmobiles, but they’re old models that need to be replaced. Some of the brochures advertise snowmobiling, but when there’s interest in it we have to discourage it because there’s too much liability in letting guests just go off alone on them into the high country. But you know the ins and outs of everything up here—how to avoid avalanche dangers, how not to get lost, how to do repairs if something should break down in the middle of nowhere. You’re the perfect person to lead groups out, keep them safe, take care of anything that might happen.”
Obviously Dax had garnered his friend’s interest. He just hoped Grant wasn’t letting him know it was a good idea before telling him why it couldn’t happen. Or that Dax wasn’t who would be included in it happening.
“And you know we’d be happy as all get-out to buy equipment through you and have you on the hook for upkeep,” Grant continued. “Plus the ATV idea for the summer months? We’re desperate for things like that to get people in here off-season and that would be a great draw.”
It didn’t seem as if Grant was going to end with anything negative, but still Dax held his breath as his old friend went on.
“Besides taking tours out on the trails, you could get groups back into some of the more remote rivers and streams for fishing. And we could milk the romance elements, too—offer rustic mountain picnics or cookouts where you get the guests out to the best spots and we have one of the restaurants provide the food or a chef to do the cooking up there.”
Dax couldn’t stand wondering if he was being set up for a fall. “So you think it’s feasible?” he said, cutting to the chase.
“I told you, it’s terrific idea. It’s absolutely feasible.”
“Why the stare, then?” Dax asked, still not understanding the reason behind his friend’s looking at him as if he’d grown gills.
“I just…I can’t believe you. Where’s the hangdog Dax we’ve come to know and love lately? This is the old Dax—there’s fire in your eyes again. You aren’t sitting all slumped in the chair. Man, you’re even smiling!”
“Hangdog? Have I been that bad?” Dax asked with a laugh, not taking offense since what Grant had said before that made it seem as if he and the resort would accept the business proposition Dax had just presented.
“Yeah, you were that bad. Worse,” Grant confirmed as if he suddenly felt free to not treat Dax as carefully as a glass with a crack in it. “Where’d this come from? What’s happened to you all of a sudden?”
Dax shrugged. After the fiasco with Lizbeth he was reluctant to tell his old friend that a woman had inspired this. Grant might think it was on the order of his false-front happiness with Lizbeth.
“Maybe the time has come for me to get my act together,” Dax said.
Grant studied him through narrowed eyes. “There’s something else. And not like with Lizbeth when you were just going through the motions.”
So Grant saw through him.
“Well, I feel different,” Dax admitted to keep his friend from probing too deeply. “I guess I’m finally ready to quit sulking about things not working out the way I wanted them to, and get on with it.”
“I can’t tell you how good it is to hear that. To know you mean it this time—because I think you really do. But I still think there’s something else going on with you.”
For better or worse, at that moment D.J. came into the lounge. It distracted Grant from pursuing the subject of what had caused the change in Dax, but it was still D.J. And the sudden appearance of his brother was enough to put Dax on edge in spite of what seemed like a win for him on the career front.
Both Dax and Grant watched as D.J. headed for the burled oak bar and the bartender behind it. D.J. didn’t glance at the tables, so he was unaware that Grant and Dax were sitting at one of them.
“How far does this new lease on life extend?” Grant asked Dax as D.J. began to talk to the bartender.
Dax knew Grant was referring to the strained relationship between D.J. and Dax.
But Dax didn’t have a ready answer for his friend. Instead, that one glimpse of his brother made everything Shandie had said on the subject of his problems with D.J. flash through his mind. She’d been right about expanding his business. Was she right about his brother, too?
For a moment Dax gave that some thought.
Did he want things to go on the way they were with D.J.? Shandie wasn’t the only one to point out recently that he and D.J. were all that was left of their immediate family now. They’d never been close, but if things weren’t put together somehow—soon—he knew they never would be. That brothers or not, they were going to end up enemies.
And he knew he didn’t want that.
“Yeah, I should probably have a sit-down with him,” Dax muttered, more to himself than to Grant, still watching his brother discuss something with the bartender.
“Go for it,” Grant suggested.
Dax continued to stare at his brother, debating whether or not to take that step, too, today.
Maybe it was the high he was still feeling over last night with Shandie. Maybe it was the additional high of Grant’s reaction to the snowmobile/ATV idea, but now actually didn’t seem like a bad time to bury the hatchet….
“D.J.,” he heard himself call across the lounge to get his brother’s attention.
D.J. glanced up at the sound of his name, searching for the origin. Since happy hour was only just beginning it didn’t take much for him to spot Dax and Grant.
The frown that came to D.J.’s face the minute he saw Dax didn’t bode well for a warm family reunion, but when Grant motioned for D.J. to come to the table, D.J. ended his conversation with the bartender and headed in their direction.
“My liquor order was short this morning. I wondered if it was delivered in here instead,” D.J. said to Grant as he reached the table, apparently believing it had been Grant who had called his name. Then he turned his gaze to his brother. “Dax,” he said with reservation.
“Can you spare a few minutes?” Dax asked. D.J.’s expression showed surprise. But it also gave evidence of suspicion and reluctance to comply.
“We’re getting ready for the dinner crowd, I should be at The Shack,” he said.
“Come on, sit,” Grant urged. D.J. looked from Dax to Grant and then back again. And still Dax could tell his younger brother was inclined to leave.
But then he must have reconsidered because he said, “I suppose everything will get done without me there for a while.”
D.J. sat down, but he was stiff and wary. And he didn’t say anything.
But since Dax had initiated this, he knew it was up to him to take it from there.
“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,” he said. “I know not long ago you told me you thought it was time we talked, and when that didn’t happen…Well, nothing’s changed between us. And I agree, it needs
to. Like you said then—and other people have said, too—we are all that’s left of the family, and I don’t want things to stay the way they are.”
D.J.’s eyebrows rose. But all he said was, “Yeah?”
Their waitress came to the table then to tell Grant he was needed at the front desk. Grant tried to put her off, but she insisted she’d been told it was important, that there was a problem with a guest that had to be addressed immediately.
Still Grant didn’t rush to go even after the waitress left. He eyed Dax and D.J. “If I leave, are you two going to tear up the place—and each other?”
“No,” Dax answered him.
“D.J.?” Grant said.
“We’ll be fine,” D.J. answered but with his gaze locked on Dax.
“Honest, it’s okay,” Dax insisted. “I’m gonna do whatever it takes to make this right.”
Shock was evident on the faces of both other men, but Grant finally conceded to the demands on him and stood.
As if that might have been enough to set them off, he paused to watch them another moment.
Then he said, “Behave yourselves,” and finally followed in the waitress’s wake.
Alone together, D.J. repeated Dax’s words. “You’re going to do whatever it takes to make this right?”
Dax had been sitting with is forearms on the table, and now he sat back in his chair, keeping his eyes steady on his brother. “I am,” he said without the slightest challenge or chip on his shoulder for once.
D.J.’s only response was to stare at him.
“Someone, someone pretty smart,” Dax began, “has recently opened my eyes to some things. About me and about you, too. And here’s how it is. Since the accident my life has seemed to me to be going downhill. Which is bad enough, but at the same time everybody else’s life has been going uphill. And even though I really am happy for everybody, I’ve felt like the odd man out—”
“You?” D.J. said as if he couldn’t believe it.
“Yeah, me. How could I not have felt that way when I’ve been watching everybody succeed and hook up with who they’re meant to be hooked up with, while I’ve been failing at business and at relationships? What that means is that I haven’t fit in with you all. And it’s been lousy,” Dax concluded with force.
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