by Darcy Burke
He lifted his head as his fingers stroked in and out of her, establishing a steady but not-quite-fast-enough pace. “Is this what you want?”
She opened her eyes. “Nearly,” she said through her clenched teeth as she fought to keep herself from flying apart.
Kneeling between her legs, he frowned down at her. “You’re doing it again.”
She rose up to meet his fingers, dying for him to thrust faster, deeper. “What?” She sounded like she’d run six miles uphill.
“You’re controlling yourself. Let. Go. Now.” He leaned down and put his mouth on her clit, sucking hard as he finally fucked her the way she wanted—hard and fast. He drove his fingers into her and used his tongue to push her over the edge.
The white lights exploded into a bright, blinding explosion as her orgasm slammed into her. His tongue replaced his fingers as he held her thighs and thrust into her. His wet, expert heat pummeled wave after wave of pleasure over her until she forgot time and space and everything but the sensation of him carrying her through unfathomable bliss.
Gradually, she came back to reality and was vaguely aware that he’d left her. She opened her eyes and saw him reach for the bottle of water on the nightstand. He flashed her a smile. “Thirsty.” He took a long swallow and offered it to her. “You?”
She shook her head.
He narrowed his eyes at her belly. “On you, maybe.” He dribbled some over her belly and bent forward quickly to lick it from her before it trickled onto the bed. He missed one rivulet, but she didn’t care. “Water’s good, but chocolate or whipped cream is better. You have either of those in the fridge?”
She’d thought herself spent a moment ago, but her body reawakened, more eager than before, if that was possible. “No, and even if I did, I wouldn’t let you leave me to get them.”
His mouth curled into a wicked grin. “You think you can stop me from doing what I want. Silly girl.” He set the water bottle back on the nightstand and massaged her breasts. With his thumbs and forefingers, he pinched her nipples lightly and pulled, sending wild sensations from her breasts straight to her core.
She slitted her eyes up at him as she reached for his cock. She circled the tip with her fingers and then closed her hand around the shaft. “And you think I’ll put up with your procrastinating.”
“Is that what I’m doing? Here, I thought we were relearning each other’s bodies, reminding ourselves what we like.” His lips curved down, but not in a frown. “Although I’m finding I recall precisely what you like and what you want. Unsurprising, given how many nights I lay awake and thought of you, my hand a poor substitute for your body’s sweet haven.”
Tori stared up at him, mesmerized. Her hand stilled as he spoke. Unlike him, she had forgotten. Or banished it from her mind. Now it came back to her in a flood—the way he worshipped her body, the things he said to tantalize and devastate her, the care he showed her every moment they were together and even when they were apart. Why had she pushed him away for so long?
Right now she couldn’t think of a reason. She came up off the bed, bending her knees up. She pulled his head to hers and kissed him, gently but deeply, pouring all of the emotion she’d kept at bay into the kiss.
His arms came around her back, and he held her tight. When he pulled away, he eased her back onto the bed, his gaze never breaking with hers.
“Please, Sean.”
He stroked between her legs. “Shhh, soon now.” He positioned himself at her entrance and gripped her hips, his fingers massaging her flesh.
She arced up into him, searching for the completion that would satisfy everything she craved. He teased her with the tip of his cock, holding the base and nudging barely inside before retreating again.
She dug her fingers into his hips and tried to pull him down. He slid in farther, and she gasped, but then he was gone again. “Sean.” She moaned.
This time when he came inside of her, he pushed to the hilt, filling her. Then he circled his thumb over her clit, and she cried out as her orgasm started. But he didn’t let up. No, now he would give her what she needed. That, she remembered, too.
He leaned over her and put his hands on the headboard to brace himself. She expected his deep thrusts and wasn’t disappointed. Casting her head back against the pillow, she closed her eyes and let ecstasy take her to another plane. She gave herself over to the sensations he gave her and let her body go, just as he’d told her to.
He pummeled into her, not fast but deep and hard. The sound of their labored breathing and their bodies working together provided a soundtrack to her living fantasy. It was everything she hadn’t realized she missed.
Picking up speed, he drove into her, his pelvis crashing against hers in delicious strokes. She tried to keep up, her hips working in a frenzy of need. The little orgasm she’d had a few minutes ago hadn’t really ever gone away, and now it built into something much larger, much more destructive, exploding over her in a mass of light and heat and total abandonment. She cried out as he continued to bury himself deep inside of her, raked her nails down his back, and clasped his ass as his hips finally twitched with his release.
He yelled her name as he poured himself into her, the bed groaning with his movements. He fell forward against her, and she brought her fingers up his back to clasp him close. She loved the feel of him on her, the joy of sharing this moment of mutual bliss.
A moment later, he brushed his lips against her temple. “I should get up.”
“In a minute,” she murmured. “Don’t go.”
He tipped his weight to the side but held her against him. “Not until you tell me to.”
She’d spent so many months doing just that. They had this, but was it enough to make their marriage work? She shoved the thought away. There’d be time to think about things, to discuss it to death. Right now, she wanted to bask in the first real happiness she’d experienced in months.
Chapter Sixteen
SEAN CARRIED TWO steaming mugs of coffee with Kahlúa to the large deck attached to the back of the cabin. Tori was curled up in one of the Adirondack chairs, her feet tucked up beneath a wool blanket. He handed her one of the mugs. “For my lady.”
She grinned up at him, her cheeks pink from the cold air despite bundling up. In addition to the blanket, she wore a beanie hat pulled over her ears, a long, fuzzy cardigan sweater-coat, a bright blue infinity scarf, and gloves that matched her hat, naturally. She was always so well put together, whether she was at a New Year’s Eve Party, going out for a run, or relaxing in the middle of nowhere.
“You sure you’re warm enough?” he asked.
“You’re not going to get me to go back inside. I love being up here, even in the cold. How can you resist that view?” She inclined her head toward the peak of Mt. Hood, which rose out of the trees marching along the back of the property.
He locked his gaze on her. “I can’t.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re such a cheese-monger. The mountain.”
He laughed and took the other chair, pulling a second wool blanket over himself. He hadn’t come equipped with a hat or gloves, but they kept extras on hand. His, however, did not match. The gloves were knit and the hat black fur. He was fairly certain it had belonged to a Cossack.
“I love to just sit out here and listen to everything.”
They were quiet, and still Sean couldn’t hear much of anything. No cars—which made sense because they were a good fifteen miles from the highway, and the road leading to the cabin was another mile through the forest—and no wildlife of any kind. It was incredibly peaceful, which is how he felt for the first time in months.
He slid a look at Tori. Her head was bent close to her coffee as she soaked up the steam curling from the mug. Her long hair, now dry, fell from beneath the cap and caressed her shoulders. His chest pulled as he watched her. He’d never imagined today would’ve turned out as it had.
And how was that? They’d made love, but nothing was settled. They were still virtual
strangers after the long months apart—strangers who lived separately and who would stay that way, given their current jobs. But maybe he could search for something in the Bay Area. Then they could live together. But did she even want that? She’d been commuting between Ribbon Ridge and San Francisco for months—did she plan to go back to the Bay Area full time?
He sipped his coffee. “Do you plan to go back to San Francisco when The Alex is done?”
She nodded. “When phase three is really underway, I’ll be able to cut back my time here significantly.”
“Your family will miss you.”
“Maybe.” She turned her head so she could see him. “You think you know them so well already?”
He shrugged. “I can see how much they love and respect you, how well you all work together. Your brother and sister both moved back to Ribbon Ridge—you wouldn’t consider doing the same?”
She went back to appreciating the view, her mug cupped in her hands. “I don’t think so. I love my job and my life in San Francisco.”
Her words lacked the passion that should’ve accompanied the word “love.” The Tori he’d met had loved that life. She’d thrived on it. He’d seen her with her coworkers in Kuala Lumpur—she was highly regarded and admired. But things had changed drastically for her since then. He wouldn’t blame her if that lifestyle had lost its luster.
“I was thinking,” he started, a little nervous about how this conversation could go. “When we got married, we talked about making the long-distance thing work. I think it’s safe to say it didn’t. I’m not opposed to looking for a job in San Francisco. There’s plenty of work there for producers.”
She didn’t so much as glance at him, but he noticed a slight flare to her nostrils. “We don’t have to think about that right now, do we?” She cast him a wistful smile. “I just want to enjoy today.”
He couldn’t help but feel she was deflecting again, compartmentalizing her emotions and controlling what she allowed herself to acknowledge and feel. But he didn’t say so. He couldn’t argue with her desire to simply live and bask in this moment. They had plenty of time to make plans—a lifetime, he hoped.
Moisture struck his nose, and he tilted his head up toward the gray sky. Another snowflake landed on his cheek. “Does it typically snow in October here?”
“No. The forecast said there was a chance, and it did feel a bit like snow. I realize I don’t know . . . Do you like snow?” The look she gave him was tinged with hope and anticipation. It reminded him of their first few days together, when everything had been brand-new.
“I do. My parents were committed to ensuring we had a snow-based holiday every year. Sleigh rides and sledding were very important components of my wintertime childhood.”
She laughed. “That sounds so very quaintly British.”
“No more quaint than the holidays you must have taken up here. Did you all stay in the cabin together?”
She nodded, her eyes animated—the blue-green sparkling like jewels against the gun-metal sky. “There’s a large room upstairs that we called the dorm. Three bunk beds.”
“But that’s only six.”
“Alex slept in the second bedroom downstairs so he could be close to Mom and didn’t have to go up and down the stairs. Mom was always afraid he’d trip because they’re kind of steep.”
It was the first time they’d discussed Alex without her seeming to get upset. He counted that as more progress. “So he slept down there alone.”
She smiled. “Of course not. We took turns sleeping with him, though it was usually Evan.”
“Evan?” He found that surprising, as everything he’d heard about Evan indicated he preferred to be on the periphery.
“I know, it doesn’t make a lot of sense, does it? I think he sometimes found us all too boisterous, and he liked the peace and quiet of being with Alex. They were actually fairly close when they were young.”
“That changed?”
She sipped her coffee. “Yes.” She frowned slightly, her brow creasing beneath the edge of her hat. “Around the time of the show. That was tough for Evan. He didn’t like the production, and my parents nearly passed on doing it but ultimately decided he could just take a background role. They wrote that into the contract—that Evan, Sara, and Alex wouldn’t be as available or accessible as the rest of us.”
Sean suffered a pang of alarm. He wished he’d known that before he’d pitched the damn show, but it was too late now. And apparently Evan had agreed to it, so maybe it was okay.
She pointed at his head. “The snow’s sticking to your hat. A lot.” Grinning, she set her mug down on the deck next to her chair. Then she pushed the blanket aside and got to her feet. “How lucky are we?” She danced out over the deck, twirling as she cast her head back and laughed at the sky.
He’d never seen her look more carefree, more happy, more beautiful. He put his coffee down next to his chair and joined her—not dancing, but moving to the edge of the deck with her. Her feet were encased in slippers, and he wore a pair of rain boots he’d found by the back door. He considered going out onto the dirt, but she’d ruin her footwear if she came with him.
“Look!” She pointed toward the tree line.
He turned abruptly. “What?”
“You missed it. A rabbit dodging for cover.” She stuck her tongue out and caught a snowflake, and the sight of her pink tongue reminded him of what she’d done to him earlier and how he’d interrupted her. His cock began to swell as he contemplated a repeat performance later.
He put his tongue out, and moisture wet his tongue as a snowflake landed on it. “Mmmm, tastes like sugar.”
She elbowed him lightly. “Liar. Tastes like water.”
“Where’s my dancing snow princess from a few minutes ago? She’d say it tastes like sugar.”
She gave a self-deprecating laugh. “If you want me to break into ‘Let It Go,’ forget it. I can’t sing to save my life.”
“I remember that, actually.”
Her eyes widened. “How?”
“You were singing in the shower one day at my apartment. I’d run down to the coffee shop, but I got back before you were done.”
Her already pink cheeks deepened in color.
He laughed. “That embarrasses you?”
She smiled sheepishly. “Not much does.”
“I know.” He reached out and brushed a snowflake from her hair. “Your fearlessness is one of the things that made me fall in love with you.”
Suddenly the air shifted. It was like the cold front that had precipitated this freak snowstorm, but this was hot, like sparks igniting.
A shiver raced across her shoulders—he saw her twitch—and she turned, breaking the spell. She made her way back to her coffee.
He followed her. “You’re staying out here?”
She bent to pick up her mug and then turned to arch a slender brow at him. “Do you have somewhere else to be?”
“No, but it’s cold and snowing. In fact,” he said, glancing up briefly but blinking just before a snowflake tried to land in his eye, “should we leave?”
She resituated herself under her blanket. “Nah. This won’t last. It’s only October. Just sit and enjoy it.”
Since she held the mug in one hand, he helped her out by tucking the blanket around her. “Are you sure? What if we get stuck here? We had to cross a bridge to get here, and I’m guessing it ices over pretty good. And my car isn’t equipped for snow; is yours?”
“No, but don’t worry about it. Worst-case scenario, I stocked up a few days’ worth of food, and I can think of worse places to be.” Her lids dipped over her eyes as she gave him a sultry look. “And worse people to be with.”
There went his cock again. He sat down in his chair and pulled the blanket over him, though he didn’t feel particularly cold in that moment. “Then by all means, let’s just sit here and enjoy our snow-laden coffee.”
“Aren’t you glad snow doesn’t taste like sugar?” She shuddered, and he knew
it didn’t have anything to do with the cold, but with her distaste for flavoring in her beloved black coffee. “The Kahlúa you added is the only thing I can tolerate.”
“Yet you tried to make me believe you wanted that ridiculous latte the other day.”
She turned and stared at him, her eyes wide. “You’re the one who drank it!”
He scoffed as he reached down for his mug. “Hardly. I was just being nice in giving you my coffee. I threw it out when we got to the race. I only pretended to drink it on the way.”
She gaped at him. “You’re a conniving bastard.”
“Takes one to know one.” He didn’t bother hiding the smugness from his tone.
“If there was enough snow accumulated, I would make a snowball and chuck it at your head.”
“Really?” He took a drink of coffee, which was rapidly becoming lukewarm. “I’d drop one down your shirt.”
Her eyes narrowed as she turned in the chair. “Joke’s on you because I’m not wearing a shirt.”
And there went his cock again. Every time he reined himself in, she went and aroused him again with the most innocuous things. “Prove it.”
She set her mug down on the deck once more and whipped the blanket off. She wore that long sweater, belted at her waist, and the fluffy scarf around her neck. The sultry look she’d given him intensified until he might have classified it as eye-fucking. Holy shit.
She moved to stand in front of him and waved the blanket away. He held it to the side, and she kneeled atop him, loosening the belt of the sweater. And yes, sweet Lord, she was not wearing a shirt. Her pale chest seemed to gleam amid the falling snow. Her nipples were hard and dark pink, tantalizing him to taste her.
She was, however, wearing yoga pants, and to him, they represented a massive impediment. No matter.
Without breaking eye contact, he pressed his palm against her mound. She was so hot—he could feel her through the layers of clothing—despite the cold. He rubbed her, and she set her hips in motion, rotating against his touch. She braced her hands on the back of the chair on either side of his head and leaned forward. He took her breast in his mouth, suckling the droplets of snow from her heated flesh.