“She’s asleep now.” Reyna glanced briefly toward the door, as if she could see through it to where her friend lay. “But in the morning, who knows how she will feel?” She fell quiet again, her face pensive. “Why is it that women always seem to be the ones to lose the most in a divorce?”
“I think that’s just a perception. Men lose, too. Most women just never see how much.”
She made a noise of disbelief, a soft sound that made him want to pull her into his arms and comfort her. “I had been perfectly happy in my marriage. I thought my husband was, too. Nine years.” Her fox eyes blinked slowly as she looked somewhere he could not see. “Ian and I dated in high school. We planned forever together. We were happy. Then I found out he was cheating on me with some of the women he met at work.”
At work. Garrison knew well enough what that meant. In the entertainment business, the lines between work and play were often blurred. He heard it enough from his movie-and TV-star clients. He saw it himself at their wrap parties and closed sets. Many costars ended up sleeping together. Some of those relationships ended in marriage, while others merely ended when it was time for the next project and the next costar.
“The cheating was terrible,” Reyna continued. “But I thought we could move past it if Ian agreed never to do it again. But he didn’t think he did anything wrong. He was beautiful, and the women on set were beautiful, too, he told me. Of course it was natural they would end up together. I couldn’t deal with that. When I demanded fidelity, he demanded a divorce.”
Her tortured gaze fastened on Garrison’s face. “Why is it so damn hard for men to keep their pants zipped? No place in our vows did it say I’ll be faithful until somebody better-looking comes along.” She drew a heavy sigh and shook her head. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m talking about this with you.”
Garrison hoped it was because she was starting to trust him. Her story was a familiar one, but an ache grew in his chest at the thought of her being hurt. The urge rose in him to break every bone in Ian Barbieri’s pretty face. “Is that what happened to Marceline? Her husband cheated on her?”
“She won’t tell any of us what happened. That’s part of why it’s so hard for me. One minute she was strong, the next she was broken down into a million pieces.” She gripped her cup between tense hands. “It’s not a very fair world, is it?”
“It isn’t. I agree.” He chose his words very carefully, aware that she was still forming her new impression of him. “I take any promise I make seriously. But in my business, I meet a lot of men and women who don’t.”
Reyna relaxed her grip on the cup then put it at her side. “Truthfully, if it wasn’t for my parents, who’ve been together since before I was born, I wouldn’t think that it was possible to have a happily-ever-after ending.” She gave a tiny shrug, a helpless gesture so at odds with her personality that it pressed an unexpected ache in Garrison’s chest. “I think they look at me with disappointment and wonder why I never made it work with my ex.”
“I doubt that.”
“I don’t.” She smiled, although the expression did not reach her eyes. “Mama and Daddy think it should be easy for me to find a love as perfect as theirs, but not everybody gets to have that. Love doesn’t find its way to everyone’s home.”
She sounded resigned and sad. Never mind that she only echoed what Garrison felt about love and relationships in general. But to hear Reyna say the words sounded wrong on a visceral level. And yet he didn’t know how to take that particular ache from her heart.
Garrison opened his mouth to give her some platitude about love and forever, but couldn’t make himself say anything so empty. Instead, he allowed his attentions to be distracted by a hint of a design on her lower arm, a curled tendril of dark green. A tattoo.
“What’s that on your arm?” he asked.
Reyna looked almost grateful for the subject change. With a pained smile, she rolled her sleeve down, completely obscuring the beginnings of what Garrison had seen.
“Ivy leaves,” she said.
“Can I see?”
Reluctantly, she bared her arm again. A black ivy leaf with tender vines dipped from the scrunched-up sleeve of her sweater. More of it disappeared above her inner elbow. It was like a layer of fine black lace on her caramel skin.
“It’s beautiful,” he said. “Can I see it all?”
She flashed him a more genuine smile. A thawing. “We don’t know each other well enough for that yet.”
He fought a full-on grin when he realized what she said. Yet. “The evening is still young. And I can keep my fire going all night long just for you.”
“Do you ever stop?”
“Only if you want me to.” This time he did smile. And he could feel her responding to him, pulling herself from whatever fever she had been suffering through since her friend went missing. He doubted that she even knew why she had come to his cabin. She seemed content to simply sit by the fire and sip her drink. Except she kept shoving at the sleeves of her sweater, obviously getting overheated.
“You can take that off if you like,” he said. “I assume you’re wearing something else underneath. I know it’s warm in here.”
“Thanks. I think I will take you up on that.” Reyna tugged off her sweater, leaving her form clad in a pale blue long-sleeved shirt. She sighed and tossed the sweater behind her. “Why do you keep it so hot?”
“I like it hot.” Garrison unabashedly stared at her newly revealed skin, the seductively angled clavicles, her slender arms. “I grew up in Tampa, where the weather is consistently warm most of the year. Even though I’ve been in New York since college, I never got used to the cold.” He shrugged without apology. “I keep my apartment warm year-round.”
“I’m sure that only encourages all the women you entertain to take off their clothes around you.”
“All the women?” Is that what she thought he was about? “Why would you say that?”
She laughed, curling a finger around her necklace and moving the charm—a star?—back and forth across the chain. “Are you fishing for compliments, counselor?”
“Not at all.” Garrison dipped his eyes below the slow and seductive motion of her finger at her throat. Her skin was luminous in the firelight. “I am simply curious what you think of me.”
A touch of color moved under her cheeks. “I think you know very well what I see.” She tilted up her chin, facing him head-on with her forest-dark eyes. “You’re an attractive man. There’s an undeniable masculinity about you that I imagine women find hard to resist.”
“Do you find me hard to resist?” He raised an eyebrow, teasing. Assuming she wouldn’t play the game.
“I do.”
Her reply stunned him into silence. For the first time, he didn’t have a ready answer. This was what he wanted, but he had not really expected to get it. Garrison cleared his throat. “Is that why you’re in my cabin at this time of night?”
She blushed again but did not back down. “You knew it was me at your door. Is that why you answered without a shirt?”
He smiled, warming to their game. “You know answering a question with a question won’t lead me astray from my original point, don’t you?”
“I’ve heard that you’re relentless. In your work.”
“In play, as well.”
She shook her head, a spasm of a smile moving over her mouth. “I don’t think I’m in your league.”
“You’re very wrong about that.”
“So…” Reyna drawled out the beginning to an abrupt conversation change, making no attempt at subtlety. “What made you decide to become a lawyer?” Their game was over then.
He allowed her to retreat. “My mother,” Garrison said. “She raised me on her own with very few resources. I wanted to thank her properly for all the sacrifices she made for me over the years. I wanted to be able to give her the things she never had. Short of becoming a crime boss, being a lawyer seemed one of the easier ways to provide for her and for myself.”
Her eyes widened as he spoke. He could tell that he had surprised her.
“I would’ve never thought you came from a single-parent home.”
He shrugged. “It’s nice to know you thought of where I came from.”
“Conversation with you never goes where I assume it will,” Reyna said.
“That’s good. I am a lawyer, but I like to think I still managed to escape being boring.”
“You’re never that.” She smiled again. But he could sense the discomfort in her. A restlessness that had not been fully eased by their small talk. “I did think you were boring before, but not now.”
“What about you, Ms. Allen?” He teased her with her last name. “What made you decide to become a tattoo artist?”
Her wry laughter filled the cabin. “Desperation.”
“Really?” He didn’t hide his surprise. “You don’t strike me as the desperate type.”
“After the divorce, that was the only job I could find. It was either take that position or risk being homeless.” She gave him an arch look. “I’ve never tried being without a place to lay my head, but I hear it sucks.”
“I don’t think that lifestyle suits anyone.”
“True enough.” Reyna toyed with the handle of her mug, her slender fingers hypnotically stroking the white ceramic. “I’ve been working at the studio for about five years now.” Garrison watched her fingers, their slow and seductive motion leading his thoughts astray. He wondered how they would feel against his skin, or tangled with his as he sank between her thighs and she sighed his name.
He forced his attention back to their conversation. “But you say it’s a pit stop.”
“Yes. I’m a graphic artist. I have a degree in it and everything.” She seemed almost embarrassed to share that with him. Her head dipped, and her lashes fanned down to hide her eyes. “I’ve been tightening my résumé and getting ready to shop myself around to ad agencies in the city.”
“The tattoo studio thing getting too old?”
“No, I’m getting too old for it. The boys there are kids. I’ll be thirty-three in a few months. Way too old to be hanging around what feels more and more like a frat house.”
“You’re beautifully seasoned.” He stroked her with his eyes. “Hardly too old, but certainly too talented to stay in a place you’ve outgrown.”
The flirtatious words flowed easily from his lips, surprising him. But his body had always been light-years ahead of his mind, knowing what he wanted and reaching out to take it before his always overprocessing brain could finish its particular set of analyses.
“Talented?” She toyed with her necklace again. “You don’t even know my work.”
“I’ve seen your sketches. I know your talent,” Garrison said. “But I’d love the chance to know you.”
The light from the flames flickered over her skin, creating shadows on her face, pulling him closer to her seductive warmth. She licked her lips and watched him.
“Will you give me that chance?” He held out his hand.
At first, he thought she would refuse him, fight the impulse that had drawn her to his cabin in the first place. He could feel the longing in her. He understood what she needed. Her friend had fallen apart in the wake of her shattered heart; Reyna wanted to prove to herself that she was stronger than that, that she did not rely on a man’s ring on her finger to hold her together.
He could already see that she was strong. She had rebuilt herself from a shell-shocked new divorcée into a resilient Circe who commanded his attention and interest like no other woman before. She didn’t need a man to hold her together, but she wanted a man, this man, to hold her.
When she took his hand, the breath left his lungs in a silent rush. Her fingers curled around his, as if he was a cool mug of apple cider, and she longed to taste. She was warmer up close, her clothes and skin crisp with the scent of pine. Reyna smelled as if she belonged out there in the wilderness with the snow and trees and all the untamed beauty beyond his doors. He felt privileged to hold her in his arms.
“I’m glad you came here tonight.” He kissed her.
The sweetness of her lips nearly undid him. Reyna sighed into his mouth and pressed her beautiful length into him, her fingers scratching the back of his neck as their lips pressed hotly together.
“I didn’t come here for this,” she whispered. “I promise.”
He nibbled her lower lip, slid a hand under her shirt. “Whatever the reason, I’m glad you’re here.”
Garrison kissed her deeply, her mouth soft under his, the passion building between them quickly, a steady fire that rolled heat beneath his skin, flared a wick of lust in his middle and made him gasp with the surprising power of it. The fire seemed to claim her just as swiftly until their mouths were fused together, their breaths meshed. His pulse felt as if it would jump out of his throat at any moment.
He’d had his share of lovers, but no woman had ever burned passion in him so completely, had ever made him want to drop to his knees and worship and kiss her every inch up and then down again.
“I want to make love to you.” He murmured the words into her throat, his hands fisted in the thick bounty of her hair.
“I thought that’s what you were already doing?”
Garrison smiled against her skin. Needing no further invitation, he peeled the clothes from her body, enjoying the slow unwrapping.
He hissed in soft surprise at the beauty he uncovered. The lace of ivy curled from her arm, around her biceps to her shoulder. Black ink on brown skin. A stunning work of art that covered one shoulder blade like the remaining wing of a fallen angel, the scattering leaves in a swirling pattern across her back and one hip.
Reyna sat, naked, on the plush white rug while the firelight played over her soft skin. Her fox eyes watched him, unblinking.
“You take my breath away,” he said.
Color rose in her cheeks again. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say that. I’m already going to let you into my pants.”
Amusement and desire warred in him. How could she make him want her so powerfully and also want to laugh at the same time?
“Now it’s your turn.” Reyna jerked her chin toward his still-clothed body.
Garrison quickly lifted, unzipped and tugged until he was as naked as she was. Her gaze touched him everywhere, from his shoulders, down to his chest, his stomach. Her eyes lingered at his hips, on the proof of his desire for her. She licked her lips, and her tongue flicked out to touch her upper lip. The sight of it sent a bolt of pure desire through him.
“Come here,” she murmured.
He came.
Hard body. Hard intentions. The fire of his lust propelled him into her waiting arms. He wasn’t sure what he’d done in his life to deserve the pleasure of her body, the gift of her desire, but he was grateful. Their tongues tangled again, her hands roving his back, his hips, inciting him. They only had a few hours of pleasure to share, but abruptly, he wanted more.
He wanted a whole weekend, even an entire month, of nights like this with Reyna. Those thoughts should have troubled him, but instead, they resonated with a sense of rightness. Of course he wanted her. She had been on the periphery of his life for nearly five years now, affecting his work. It only made sense that she was here, in the center of his personal life, sharing pleasure, and soon, sharing his bed. She touched the source of his desire, and he groaned into her hot throat. His thoughts scattered. His tenuous control broke.
In moments, she was beneath him on the rug before the fire, her back arching as he bit her throat and thumbed the firm peaks of her breasts. Her flesh was miraculously female, soft as silk and as necessary as air. Reyna gripped the back of his neck when he settled his mouth on her breast.
“Oh…”
He worshipped her body. Telling her with his mouth and hands how much he wanted her, how much he desired her, that the world beyond the door of his cabin didn’t matter. Not for many hours yet. She writhed beneath him. Loveliness. Responsiv
e. Stroking his body, digging her nails into his back.
Her thighs fell open to receive him, and Garrison groaned. The scent of her sex was like perfume, weaving in the air around him, pulling him deeper into the magic of her. He stroked her welcoming flesh. She was damp and plump, ready for him. She moaned his name, arched her glistening breasts to the ceiling while he caressed her wetly, and she sang her song of desire and pleasure for him.
Her nails scratched his shoulders. Her sex clutched fiercely at his fingers. Her face was all beauty, her eyes tightly closed, her lips parted, her thighs flung open to hungrily grasp at the pleasure he gave.
“Oh, God…”
Her breasts quivered with each sharp breath she drew. Unable to bear the temptation any longer, he tasted them again. She shuddered beneath him, fingernails scoring his back. The pain of it barely fazed him. He kept going, loving the feel of her around his fingers, the sweet heat of her sex, the scent of her passion, the firm buds of her nipples sliding beneath his tongue. Then she cried out, quivering beneath him, a perfectly plucked bow.
He reluctantly pulled himself away from her shuddering body and grabbed his jeans, his wallet. Garrison sent a silent prayer of thanks that the condoms were still there.
She sat up, panting softly, her body a flickering mystery in the firelight. “Let me do that for you.”
Reyna took the packet from his hand. Her eyes captured his as she tore the foil with her teeth. Garrison gasped when she touched him, her fingers a slow torture, a delicate dance of passion that made him want to instantly bury himself into her lush wetness. The breath shuddered from him as she finished sheathing him in the latex. Watching him carefully, she climbed into his lap and slowly, slowly lowered herself onto him.
He gasped, pleasure flooding into him with each millimeter clutch of her drugging heat. He held on to her. She held on to him. They moved together, a single animal, racing toward its pleasure. Her sex twisting on his lap, her gasping breaths. He gripped her hips and buried himself deeply, stroked the sweetness into her.
Snowy Mountain Nights Page 8