Once Fane’s lips reached mine a maelstrom built between our two mouths until we were breathless. I pulled back, gasping in a lungful of air before leaning in for more. My body screamed for more. More lips. More tongue. More everything Fane.
His long, slender fingers stroked the top of my hand gently, tracing invisible lines to my wrist.
I released my hold on the quilt to run my hands down Fane’s back, feeling the ridge of his spine beneath my fingertips. After repeating the motion several times I allowed my hands to slide lower, following the curve of his ass. Mine, I thought as I gave him a firm squeeze.
Fane was on his knees in a flash, working the fastening of my jeans. He unbuttoned and unzipped them with nimble fingers, then began pulling the denim down my legs. His hands froze when he reached my knees.
Fane released a shuddering breath.
I lifted my head, suddenly remembering the lace stockings I’d put on earlier. Heat flooded my cheeks.
I opened my mouth to explain or make a joke, but my mouth went dry when I saw Fane’s lips part and his eyes brighten, practically dancing with delight. He resumed undressing me, pulling my jeans to my ankles and freeing them over my feet.
I leaned my head back on the mattress and swallowed, savoring the feel of Fane’s hands as he dragged the lace stockings down my legs.
I thought I might catch a chill. Instead, my skin blazed under the warmth of the fire and Fane’s touch. Everything from the pressure of his fingers to the leisurely stroke of his hand felt exquisitely deliberate. A shudder ran through my body when Fane broke contact.
I propped myself on my elbow to see what was going on.
Fane stood, poised like a Roman warrior looking over his conquest.
Veni, vidi, vici, I thought with a wry smile. But I was getting ahead of myself. Fane had yet to see everything, yet to conquer, and, ahem, that whole part of the Latin phrase beginning with “I came.” My cheeks flushed. So I had a bit of a dirty mind. Men didn’t have an exclusive on perverse thoughts.
Fane flashed one of his disturbingly shrewd smiles, like he was reading my mind. He walked over to the lamp in the corner of the cabin and turned it off. The room dimmed. The blaze behind the glass door of the hearth illuminated the cabin—like flames from a dozen candles.
I watched as Fane pulled his T-shirt over his head and tossed it aside.
Firelight danced all around us. It flickered over Fane’s smooth and tightly toned abs. He was slender but built. His dark jeans rode low over his hips, dragging my attention downward to his belly button and the suggestive V dipping below his belt. His body was mesmerizing against the fire’s glow.
Fane’s grin only widened when he saw my hungry eyes roving him like a starved black bear coming out of hibernation after a long, cold, lonely winter. His thumb brushed over his belt buckle, stroking it several times before unfastening the metal clip, every movement deliberate and unhurried.
If it had been anyone else, I might have joked about having my very own private strip show or hummed a few bars from “You Sexy Thing” by Hot Chocolate. But this was Fane Donado. Words were overrated. We were way past taunting and teasing. All I wanted to do now was drink him in with my eyes before exploring every inch of his body with my own.
The buckle fastening made a metallic clicking sound as Fane loosened the belt and unzipped his fly. Using both hands to slide his jeans down, he dropped them to his ankles then stepped out and kicked his pants aside. The bulge in his very dark, very tight boxers left no doubt over his desire.
Fane met my gaze and flashed me the Cheshire grin. I smiled back just before lifting my arms and pulling off my tank top. I unclasped my bra next, the first one to take it all off, and chucked both articles of clothing over the side of the bed.
After everything we’d been through, my modesty had slipped away. Fane was both familiar and alluring. I felt safe and excited around him. It was freeing.
No more running.
No more hiding.
Without losing any more time, Fane slipped off his boxers on his way to the bed. My eyes widened at the missile headed my way.
The lunchbox had landed.
Humor aside, my hormones were out of control, my body delirious with desire. I needed him in me. Now.
I backed myself across the mattress, but not before Fane reached my legs and spread them apart.
Our eyes met. In that look I saw everything that would happen, like a train wreck that couldn’t be stopped. I didn’t want it to stop or even slow down. My heart sped up, bracing for collision.
Fane watched my face intently as he entered with a hooded look that smoldered and scorched from within.
My eyes fluttered. When I lowered my lashes and closed my eyes, I was fully aware of him inside me.
As he moved against me, I joined him, and we rocked together in unison. When I reopened my eyes, his were still on me, watchful as ever. Excitement and calm washed over me all at once. This was nirvana. Nothing in the world could compare. Two bodies connected.
For the first time in months, I felt safe. For the first time, all my anxiety melted away faster than snowflakes in spring.
Scott Stevens had ripped me open in pain. Fane filled me with bliss.
Once we’d finished and caught our breath, Fane kissed my shoulder. He tucked an unruly strand of hair behind my ear.
“Was that okay?” he asked, forehead wrinkled, his eyes searching mine.
I couldn’t help smiling. Couldn’t he tell?
“You really know how to take the edge off,” I answered cheekily.
His whole face relaxed as he broke out into a grin. He kissed me on the forehead and leaned back on the bed, pulling me against him. His warm skin felt divine against mine. In his embrace, a drowsy spell came over me. I wanted to curl up against Fane and go to sleep with his arms wrapped around me.
We slipped beneath the covers, wrapped in each other’s arms.
“Now I really feel like I’m dreaming,” I mumbled, eyes half closed.
Fane turned me so my back faced him. He held me against him tight, just as I’d wanted. Laying together this way felt as blissful as the lovemaking.
As my eyelids closed and breaths came out in shallow puffs, Fane buried his face in my hair.
I drifted off quickly—the sleep of the undead. I wasn’t sure how long I was out. Perhaps not long at all. Sometime later I woke up to Fane hugging me tight, murmuring against my skin. He released a content sigh and whispered, “Ti amo. Con te voglio passare la mia vita.”
My lashes fluttered. “If you just asked me to marry you, you’re going to have to repeat it in English.”
“Close,” Fane said with a soft chuckle.
My pulse quickened, chasing sleep away. I pressed my chin over my shoulder, trying to look at Fane. “What did you say?”
“Nothing. Go back to sleep.”
If only I’d taken Italian in high school instead of French. Not that it had been an option.
“I want to know,” I insisted.
Fane’s breath was warm on my neck. He could bite me if he wanted. My blood was no longer an issue, but I knew that was the furthest thing from his mind.
“It means I want to spend my life with you,” he said.
“You do?”
“I’ve told you before.”
“Never like this,” I replied.
“I didn’t want to scare you off.”
“Scare me off?”
Fane rubbed his chin against my shoulder. “I don’t think you realize how crazy I am about you,” he said. “I want to be with you forever.”
I turned and faced him, our noses practically touching, an amused smile on my lips. “Are you saying you want to grow not old with me?” I gave a soft chuckle.
Fane returned my smile. “It’s nice to know that making love puts you in a good mood.”
I touched his cheek. “It’s you who puts me in a good mood.”
Fane leaned in with a soft, slow kiss that deepened gradually. Lik
e his striptease earlier, he took his time. Hunger built inside me. There was no more sleeping after that. Okay, a quick catnap here and there, but one night wasn’t nearly enough time with Fane. At some point the flames in the hearth dwindled, but we didn’t need them. We made our own heat, our own fire.
We made up for lost time.
As the faint traces of daylight leaked along the edge of the curtains, we finally collapsed. I fell asleep with my cheek against Fane’s chest. The blankets were scattered halfway down our bodies, covering us just above our waists.
It seemed I’d only been asleep for a minute when Fane shook me awake. Even the cabin seemed to shake.
“Aurora,” Fane said softly. “I’m afraid we need to go.”
My lashes fluttered open. The cabin creaked against what sounded like raging winds that filled my ears as I came back to consciousness. I hadn’t been imagining the cabin walls shaking. From the sounds of it, a windstorm had kicked up sometime after I fell asleep, as though nature had taken her cue from Fane and me.
Speaking of the dark prince, Fane sat on the edge of the bed, already dressed.
I sat up, jolted from sleep. There was no time to waste. Even a shower would have to wait. At least I would have regular access once we returned to Anchorage, but first we needed to go to the lodge and get Dante. I’d fill him in while Fane reasoned with Giselle. Better him than me. Ashley would probably be relieved to go home or wherever Melcher planned to reassign her.
“I need to get dressed,” I said frantically.
Fane reached to his side and presented me with my clothes. Each article was nicely folded and stacked in size order. Fane grinned. “In that case, you might want these.”
“Thank you,” I said, warmed by the thoughtful gesture. He’d even folded my underwear. I grabbed them from the top of the pile, pulled them under the covers, and slipped them on first, followed by my bra, tank top, jeans, and socks.
Under different circumstances, I would have wanted nothing more than to laze around all morning in bed with Fane, but now was not the time.
Fane sat on the bed beside me the entire time, but unlike Dante, he watched me dress with an air of protectiveness rather than lewd interest.
Overcome by a swirl of grateful and loving emotions, I threw my arms around Fane and hugged him tight. He gathered me in his arms and kissed me roughly over the lips.
The embrace ended as quickly as it started. I pulled away to get to my feet.
Fane looked up at me. “What was that for?” he asked.
“Ti amo,” I said, recalling what he’d said that night. I had a good feeling what it meant. “I love you too.”
Fane stood up. His eyes and cheeks glowed.
“Let’s get Dante and get out of here.”
I ducked inside the restroom; some things couldn’t wait until Anchorage. When I emerged, hair freshly hand combed, I headed for my boots.
“I’m ready,” I said. “In case Dante doesn’t respond by radio again, I don’t suppose the Range Rover could make it through snow?”
“Already made arrangements,” Fane said. “The owner of the lodge is lending us one of his snowmobiles.”
That was a relief. I could pass on wading through snow.
Fane crossed the cabin and grabbed our coats. Once my boots were tightly laced, I straightened and took my coat from Fane’s outstretched hand.
“Sure you don’t want to grab a quick shower while I see about transportation?”
“I’d rather get to Dante as soon as possible,” I said.
Fane frowned.
“What is it?” I asked.
He gazed into my eyes. “The two of you were on the run for a while. Did anything ever happen?”
“Oh,” I said, mouth forming into the shape of the word. “Shouldn’t you have asked me this before we had sex?”
“I didn’t want to know.”
“But now you do?”
“I’ve tortured myself speculating. I didn’t want to think about it when we were together, and it won’t change my feelings for you. We were separated, and you couldn’t know that we’d ever see each other again. You couldn’t even know if you’d survive. I don’t like it, but I understand if the two of you sought… physical comfort,” Fane finished.
Sure, he understood, and yet the mere mention made his lips retract as though he’d sucked on a sour lemon.
“We kissed, but that’s all,” I said.
Fane studied my expression. “You didn’t sleep together?”
How technical did Fane want to get?
“We never had sex.” There. That ought to be clear enough. “Can we go now?”
Fane nodded. “I’ll have you back to the city in no time. My cousin’s rented several suites at the Captain Cook. You can take a shower, bath, or both as soon as we get to town.”
“A bath,” I said in a dreamy voice.
Fane opened the cabin door, letting in the arctic wind. As he stepped outside, he looked over his shoulder and said, “Your vampire hunting days are over.”
What had seemed so out of reach suddenly felt too easy. I thought about Dante’s earlier words. If I retired, what would that make me?
A free woman, that’s what. A woman in love.
It was time to leave the agency free and clear and get on with my life.
20
Blizzard
Cold air rushed over my legs and spruce trees zipped by as we roared up the road leading to the lodge. The wind blasting us was no match for the warmth radiating throughout my entire body. Arms wrapped around Fane’s waist as he drove across the snow, I felt my spirits soaring alongside the machine with the force of the wind, spreading out across the forest and mountains.
We’d found each other.
We’d united body and soul. Those memories alone could keep me warm for the next century or two. But I no longer needed memories or dreams to bring me comfort. Now I had the real thing. Fane in the flesh beat Fane the memory and Fane the dream any day. Nothing could keep us apart now that we’d found each other against all odds. Not Melcher, nor Valerie, or even Mother Nature.
I pressed my cheek against Fane’s back.
He turned his head to the side and hollered over the engine’s roar. “You okay back there?”
Fane had on a pair of ski goggles. The owner of the lodge in town didn’t have a helmet that fit either of us. We weren’t going far and Fane drove cautiously. I had the benefit of using his body to shield the wind head-on.
I pulled my left arm away from Fane’s waist to give him a thumbs-up.
I caught the side of Fane’s smile before he faced ahead and sped forward through a straight stretch of road, following the ski tracks Dante and Giselle had left behind. At a bend in the road, Fane slowed and took the curve gently.
A big white-and-grayish mass had formed overhead when we first set out. It threatened to burst open like a cloud-shaped piñata.
After rounding the bend, Fane zipped across the next open stretch. My arms tightened around his waist as we gained speed, racing the threatening storm.
The blizzard came instantaneously, like a rain shower. No warning drops, or in this case, no scattered flurries before the big snow dump.
Fane slowed the machine. At first I wasn’t aware that he’d come to a complete stop. The wind continued beating against us as though we were still riding full speed across the landscape. He turned his head. “I can’t see where I’m going.”
My heart dropped. We’d almost made it. Why did it have to snow now? I should have woken earlier, got dressed faster, not lingered at the cabin so long.
“How long do you think we’ve been riding?” I asked.
Fane’s eyes lifted upward inside the goggles as he attempted to calculate the approximate time we’d been on the trail. “Maybe fifteen, twenty minutes.”
“We should be getting close.” When Fane didn’t answer, I squeezed his waist. “We have to keep going.”
He looked from the path ahead to my wide, pleading ey
es and nodded.
“It’s going to take longer, but we’ll get there.”
Fine. I didn’t care what speed we went so long as we made progress. Fane pressed forward. Even at a slow clip, the machine buzzed and vibrated between my legs.
At least the green-needled spruces were still slightly visible. We skirted them at a crawl. Fane must have been following the tree line up to the lodge.
At our careful pace, I loosened my hold on Fane. I fell back a bit when we plowed over a thick snowdrift. My arms snaked around Fane and pulled my body against his. Not that I needed an excuse to hug him.
The problem with the tree line was that snow from previous storms had gathered in the branches and was dropping in thick clumps that created mounds on the ground below. Fane took them as gently as possible, maneuvering over them as though they were speed bumps in the snow.
Even though he was driving cautiously, the next mound turned out to be steeper than the last, something neither of us realized until our left ski went airborne and the machine rotated to the right. We flipped sideways with the snowmachine into the powder. The moment we did, the engine cut out and the only sound remaining was the rush of wind similar to waves crashing along an ocean shore.
“Cazzo!” Fane cried out as we pitched over. He crawled out from under the machine and helped me up. “Are you okay?” Fane pulled his goggles off. His brows wrinkled as he looked me over.
“I’m fine,” I assured him, casting a forlorn look at the overturned snowmachine.
Fane didn’t spare it a glance; he was too busy scrutinizing me for signs of injury. We hadn’t been going fast enough to get hurt. Even if we had, we healed quickly. It wasn’t like my car accident. My organs weren’t in imminent danger.
Fane gently brushed the snow off my legs and arms, which was all the more endearing considering they’d quickly be covered again with the storm coming down.
“I thought you raced the Dakar twice,” I said in a teasing tone.
Fane’s shoulders relaxed. He grinned. “I didn’t say anything about finishing.”
My jaw fell. “What?”
“Just kidding. I always finish what I start… even if it means walking the rest of the way.”
Whiteout (Aurora Sky Page 22