"You, Gigi, are amazing. And I need you. I want you. All of you. And I don’t want it to be in a car or in a shitty hotel."
Desire ripples in her eyes like twin flames. "What do you propose?"
"Come away with me. For the weekend."
"Okay," she says finally. "I can’t believe I’m saying yes."
I wipe a strand of hair from her face, happier than I can express in words. "It’ll be a blast."
"What are we doing, Ronan?"
"Taking it one day at a time."
Gigi grabs my neck and kisses me, her lips white-hot. I fist her hair, the players on the field and my coach forgotten. To hell with them, all I want is her. No one’s ever made me feel this way and leaving her will suck. I’m already dreading our last kiss. It weighs inside me, heavier than lead.
Why can’t I keep her?
Gigi
Everyone at the Cascades Lodge wears North Face and looks made of money. The luxury resort was built into the rocky cliff side. It is the only hotel with a Michelin-star restaurant in Vermont. Its more interesting amenities include couples massage, a recovery concierge, and a tie butler. Towering rock surrounds the wooden facades like some ultra-luxe mountain hideaway.
It’s gorgeous.
The doormen seize our luggage. Ronan uses his free hand to wrap my waist. The butterflies take flight.
"How much did you pay for this place?"
"A lot," he whispers. "Don’t worry about it."
"You really didn’t have to do all this. I would’ve slept with you for far less."
"Damn." He snaps his fingers. "Should’ve booked the Motel 6. When exactly did I win you over?"
"When I realized you were different than the ass I knew."
Dimples carve into his cheeks. "My ass has gone through many transformations since high school. It’s definitely rounder and bigger."
I roll my eyes. "There he goes again. It’s either his ass or his dick."
His laughter fills me with warmth. The heat spreads the closer we get to our room. There, we’ll finally be alone. Hands clasped tight, we ride the elevator after checking in. Ronan finds the suite and unlocks the door. The bellhop drags our luggage into the room before leaving.
The door snaps shut.
Ronan locks it.
He removes his jacket and sweater with a loud groan, his knit long-sleeve shifting. I pull it into place, hands smoothing over his pecs.
He smiles, closing his eyes. "Hear that?"
"I don’t hear anything."
"Exactly."
Ronan gathers me into his arms. His hard mouth crashes into mine. I slide down his muscled pecs and grab his tight waist. He’s burning hot.
Ronan stops, holding me still. "I can’t—I have to stop."
"Why? I want you. This has been on my mind since the holiday party."
Something changes as I watch him. He changes. A soft vulnerability I’ve never seen suddenly glows within him. "You’re everything I want."
What does that mean?
Ronan looks on the cusp of revealing something, but he pulls up short. It’s as though a seductive mask slides over his face. "I want to rip every stitch off that beautiful body and show you a night you’ll never forget. And I will, but I’m going to do it right."
I’m torn between wanting the same, and saying screw it, let’s fuck already. The sex will be a thousand times better after an evening of heavy innuendo and flirting.
"Okay, but I at least want to kiss you for a bit."
"No tongue," he growls.
I’m obsessed with how amazing he is. Never has a man’s embrace made me so secure. He holds me like I’m made of glass and yet, he knows my pressure points. Where to touch me.
Ronan breaks away, breathing hard. He actually steps backward, eyes screwed in concentration. "I’m going to get dressed in the other room, so we don’t blow through all my plans and fuck."
"Your plans?"
"Our date night." He winks before pulling his suitcase into the bathroom.
Oh, shit. He’s in love with me.
I don’t react the way I should—with pity. Instead there’s a leaping joy. A nervous, happy bubble that keeps expanding in my stomach.
No.
I don’t have feelings for Ronan. It’s only because we haven’t fucked.
I shouldn’t have come, but how could I say no? He won me over at football practice. He’s changed, and I’m glad. It was worth coming home, if only to witness his transformation.
But now, I’m crossing the line. I’m going on weekend trips with a man who loves me, in secret, and I’m lying to Mom.
What am I doing?
This won’t last. It can’t.
I touch my lips, the taste of Ronan burning into my memory. I’ll remember for the rest of my life. The funny thing is, I barely recall what kissing James was like. Somehow my five-year relationship vacated my brain and was replaced with Ronan.
I open my suitcase, finding the pale blue shift dress that sparkles like fresh snow. My feet slide into a pair of strappy brown heels. Preparing for a date in the hotel room with a man I haven’t slept with yet is weird. It’s strangely intoxicating. The bed is right there. We’ll end up between its sheets before long.
I finish my makeup as Ronan steps from the bathroom dressed in slacks and a deep blue dress shirt.
He swings my way, smile flickering. "You’re beautiful."
He’s sexy. It doesn’t matter what he wears.
"You too."
Ronan takes my hand. "Let’s go."
I grab my clutch on the way out, following him downstairs. We cross the lobby into a circular restaurant. An ornate chandelier carved from wood hangs in the center, limbs growing from it like a tree. Glowing lights of red, green, and blue intertwine with the branches. Empty space surrounds a band, where couples sway to Christmas songs. Wall to wall windows blaze with illuminated snow. The air hums with warmth. A hostess in a black dress leads us to a table.
Ronan pulls out my chair. Then he sits, scanning the drink menu. "So what are you up for? Wine or holiday-themed cocktails?"
"Cocktails, definitely."
"I’ll let you in on a secret. I don’t mind girly drinks."
With a snort, I imagine Ronan sipping a Cosmo from a martini glass. "Prove it."
"Fine." He peers at the list. "I’ll have a Reindeer-infused Rum Winter Special. Weird name."
"And I’ll have Uncle Angelo’s Eggnog."
Our waiter whisks the order away and returns with a bright pink concoction for Ronan, and a milky drink for me. He lifts his glass, knocking it against mine. "Cheers."
I sip the cinnamon-flavored drink. "Do you bring all your girls here?"
"Here?" he snorts. "To a lodge four hours from football practice? No, Gigi. Only you."
That thrills and terrifies me. "Why?"
"Because I want you to have a good time."
"Ronan, I don’t need all this to have fun."
"I know." He reaches across the table to hold my hand. "I want you to see me for who I really am, and not the stupid kid I was."
I do see you.
Liam’s whispered confession in the grocery store returns in full force. Ronan is in love with me. Agreeing to come here has made things worse. Maybe he’ll expect a relationship.
God knows we’d be terrible together. Right?
I change the subject. "How’s your ankle?"
Ronan smiles, but takes it in stride. "It’s a lot better, actually."
"So you’ll play on Tuesday, then?"
"Yeah. I’ll be there. Want to come?"
Saying yes feels dangerous. "Maybe."
"Top box seats, Gigi. You know you want them."
"Going to your football games will make people think we’re more of an item, not less."
"You’re right. Crisis averted. What would my team would think?"
"Maybe we could do without the wisecracks."
I imagine myself captured in a photo op with Ronan, introduced as his gi
rlfriend. It’s a pretty picture, but a life with him is a fantasy. He already has a booming career. I’m still finding mine.
It’s better this way.
We eat as the windows darken with a rapidly setting sun. Soon, the only lights are those flickering from candles. Ronan pushes his half empty plate, his eyes ravenous. All night he watched me, barely interested in his food, asking me all kinds of questions.
"Do you remember prom?"
"No." I snort into my third cocktail. "You know why I don’t."
Remorse flickers across his face. "I’ve always felt horrible about ruining that night for you."
Of all things, I can’t believe this is on his mind. "It was a long time ago."
"Yeah, but it was shitty. I’m sorry I paint balled your date."
"Want to make it up to me?" I gesture my head toward the dance floor.
"Hell yes."
With my hand in his, I follow him to the band. He takes my waist and pulls me close. We sway on the spot. I’m more interested in his closeness than dancing.
I finger his neck. "If only I had a corsage."
"Mine was purple," he sighs. "She insisted."
"What was your prom like?"
"Boring. We got to the dance and grinded against each other for an hour to bad music, and then I got a blowjob near the dumpsters."
"Classy."
"When you’re sixteen, you take what you can get. Anywhere."
"Maybe it’s a good thing I wasn’t into you then."
"Maybe," he agrees. "Though, I think we would’ve made a cute couple."
Ronan closes the distance between us and kisses me. I lean into his embrace, the warmth from alcohol mingling with desire. I release his hand, wrapping mine around his neck. He squeezes my waist, his fingers burning through the fabric.
We break apart at the smattering of applause. The front man of the band thanks everyone as the music fades.
"I think that’s our cue to go upstairs."
"You sure?" he asks. "I don’t mind hanging out longer."
I dig into his lapels. "For the love of God."
"All right. Let’s go."
Giddy warmth spreads throughout my body as quickly as stepping into a hot bath.
"Do we need to pay?"
Ronan leads us past our table. "They’ll charge it to my room."
The way to our room is a blur. Suddenly, I’m standing in front of the door with no memory of walking. My nerves are shot. I know what’s coming, and I want it more than anything.
I stroll into the darkened suite and throw my clutch onto the counter. Ronan shuts the door, watching me through hooded eyes.
I can’t stand the silence. "What?"
"You’re so beautiful. Come here."
I walk into his arms. He pushes me against the wall, his mouth aflame against mine. His hands are like torches, scorching my skin, sending ripples of pleasure everywhere. The blue dress slips down my shoulders. Kissing my neck, he unzips the dress.
The fabric pools to my feet. He palms my bare back, slipping under my thong with a moan. It’s the most I’ve bared to him. My hands shake as I unclasp my bra. He watches me with a delirious hunger. He pulls the bra from my arms, and then he takes my waist. I can’t breathe. He pushes me onto bed, tearing off his shirt. I unbutton his slacks, tugging them to grab his rock-hard bulge.
His briefs slide down, and then his weight bears over me. He’s so warm. I squeeze his sculpted shoulders, caress his broad chest. Ronan rips the thong from my body.
My legs wrap his waist, and his lips seal my sigh. With bated breath, I wait. Ronan’s grin widens as he plays with my breasts, his other hand teasing my pussy.
"I’ve waited so long."
"You can handle a few more minutes of me appreciating your body."
I sit upright, arrested by the sight of Ronan fisting his cock. He pumps it slowly as he studies every part of me as though deciding which is the sexiest. I palm his balls and run my hand down his shaft. At my touch, he digs his nails into my skin. I love how thick he is. How hard I get him. All I had to do was strip nude, and he’s ready to go.
Ronan pushes me down, all patience gone. He grabs his cock, and slide it against my pussy. He stops. The throbbing heat pulses where I want it most. He meets my gaze, teeth bared, and then he thrusts.
He shoves inside, so thick that I gasp.
He spreads me apart as ecstasy mingles with pain. He anchors himself with a deep groan, slides out, and pushes inside again. Ronan breaks from my lips, allowing me to breathe. His stubble rakes me as he kisses my neck, peppering my skin until reaching my breast. He sucks me into his mouth, tongue lashing my nipple. One lick, and then a thrust.
A sound I’ve never heard bursts from my chest. I tear at his back, which moves in an undulating wave. Ronan’s hips meet mine, the tempo of his thrusts wild. It’s like he’s just discovered fucking and can’t get enough of me.
I can’t get enough of him. His mouth. His tongue. His muscular body that was built to fuck. I wish we had years, not days. As his lips crash against mine, I’m already filled with regret that this won’t last.
Ronan’s ardor charges mine. He wraps me in his arms, pounding me into the mattress. Pushed to the threshold, I seize as my frustration gives way to mouth-watering pleasure. Ronan kisses my throat, frenzied in his passion, and yet gentle when his lips find mine. A deep moan bursts from them, and then he thrusts himself balls deep as he comes.
Ronan’s face softens. I dig my fingers into his hair and massage his head and neck. His brilliant blues close as he smiles with lazy contentment. When they open, that wide-eyed look from before returns.
You’re everything I want.
He’s everything I want, too.
A fist-sized lump swells in my throat, and I can’t cry after having sex. So I peel myself from him. "I’ll be right back."
Ronan doesn’t want to let me go. "You okay?"
"Yeah."
I smile as I leave the warmth of the bed and tiptoe to the bathroom. I grab a towel and squeeze it against my chest. Tears slip down my cheeks.
How am I supposed to find this with someone else?
Ronan
"Keep looking at me like that, and I’ll tear your clothes off and fuck you on the slopes."
Gigi’s frostbitten cheeks burn as the ski lift hoists us into the air. "What are you talking about?"
"You know exactly what I mean." Gigi’s fuck-me stare has been taunting me all morning. First at breakfast, which I obliged after dragging her to the bed. And, now, during the fitting for boots, I catch her checking me out, as if there’s anything to leer at with all this ski shit on my body.
"I would’ve happily spent the rest of the day inside you. You’re the one who wanted to go skiing."
Gigi lapses into a thoughtful silence. She does that whole stare-into-your-soul thing often. Sometimes she breaks it with a sigh. This time she leans over and her lips stamp my cheek.
I want more.
I turn my head, but she’s already leaned away. Her eyes beam with pure bliss. I’ve never seen that look on her face, and it warms my heart.
I make her happy.
Our lift approaches the slope, and Gigi moans. Despite a firm hold on her jacket arm, she always takes us both out.
"Okay, don’t move. Keep the skis straight. I’ll pull you aside."
"I’ll try."
She says that, but she panics as soon as she touches the powder. The bench shoves her forward, and she sways to the left.
"No, stay straight!"
Gigi makes a wedge with her skis. They quickly become entangled and shoot across mine.
"Oh, hell," I moan. "Not again."
Unable to remain upright, Gigi crashes me into a mound of packed snow. Gigi’s body thumps into mine.
Another wipeout. "You’ve done this so many times, I’m starting to think you do it on purpose."
"I do not!" Gigi slaps my chest, bursting with laughter. "I swear to God."
"You don’t
have to trip me to get on top of me. Just saying."
"Shut up."
Gigi rips the poles from my hands and fights to a standing position. It’s a good thing we’ve skied on nothing but bunny hills. Gigi’s hopeless at the sport, but I smile and nod as though she’s making decent progress. It wouldn’t be fun to tell her how much she sucks. Besides, watching her shriek with rage when she falls is hilarious.
"Pay attention, Gigi. Stop thinking about dick and listen up." I point a few yards ahead. "You need to practice stopping. I want you to slowly make your way there and stop without falling over."
Gigi stares at the spot and digs her poles into the snow. "I’ll try."
She makes a wedge and pushes off, shooting past where she’s supposed to halt. I laugh as I chase after her. Cold wind stings my face, and I glide over the gentle slope.
"Can’t stop!" Gigi flies straight down, terror written all over her face.
"Yes, you can. Gently apply pressure to—"
"I can’t!" she screams. "I’ll fall!"
"You’ll fall anyway when you get to the bottom."
Gigi veers in a desperate attempt to slow down, smashing into me.
"Fuck!"
We wipe out in a whirlwind of limbs. The ski boot twists my ankle and pain stabs my foot. "Ow!"
"Oh shit!" Snow falls from Gigi’s beanie as she shoots upright. "What did I do?"
"You’re killing me." I pop my boot from the ski, hissing with pain. "It’s like you’re trying to put me out of commission for the game. You’re not a spy from Ohio State, are you?"
"I’m so sorry!" Gigi untangles herself and crawls to my side. "Do you need help getting up?"
"Nah. I’m only messing." I use the poles to stagger upright, and, once I put the slightest weight on my right ankle, white-hot pain shoots up my leg.
"Shit." Gigi must’ve noticed my grimace before I wiped it away.
"I’ll be fine, but I should probably wait a few minutes before hitting the slopes."
"Let’s go back. This was a bad idea."
I test my boot on the slope and head downhill, skis draped over my shoulder. The boot has good support, but another hour and my ankle will be the size of a grapefruit. Skiing with my injury was stupid, but I couldn’t say no to her.
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