As his cock pulsed at the thought of tasting her in every way possible, she pulled back. She still clutched him, but her face was serious, thoughtful. Her hazel eyes met his, and her lips parted.
Fuck it. He had to taste her. See if she tasted as sweet as she smelled.
“No,” she said. Then she gave a tiny shake of her head, and she looked down, breaking the spell. “I’m good now.”
“What?”
“You don’t have to hold me so close.” Her words were firm, but her voice was shaky. Good to know he affected her, too.
Disappointment ran through him, even as he told himself that he should be thankful. That kissing her would lead to complications he didn’t need. Careful not to disturb her balance, he put some distance between them and started skating again.
“When was the last time you went skating?” she asked.
Honesty or the easier white lie? Normally there wouldn’t even be a question in his mind, but he’d lied to her enough in only a couple of days. “I’ve never ice-skated before.”
“Liar.”
A grin tugged at his lips that she’d thought his honesty was a lie when he’d decided to be truthful. “Believe what you like.”
She blinked. “You’re not lying, are you? You can skate this well the first time out? That’s super annoying.”
“I know.”
Her hands dug harder into his as she skated over an imperfection in the ice, and he fought the urge to pull her closer, to make this a real dance over the ice. He knew he could sweep her around with little effort. And with more than a small amount of work, hard shell surrounding her or no, perhaps he could sweep her off her feet.
The weight of the idea hit him, and he halted their progress across the ice. With effort, he tugged his hands from hers and forced a smile. “Time to take off the training wheels.”
Hazel eyes widened, revealing a bit of fear, before narrowing in acceptance of his challenge. She was going to make a go of it. Not that he’d doubted her; she didn’t back down from a challenge.
He watched her for the first couple of minutes, unable to drag his gaze away from her less-than-graceful movements. Why was her unsure skating so endearing? He shook off the thought, and with Rachel’s movements still at the back of his awareness, he skated closer to Kristen.
“Nice moves,” he called.
Kristen tossed her hair over her shoulder and gave him a killer smile. “Thanks! Not doing so bad yourself.”
Flirtatious comments and shallow compliments were passed back and forth. Kristen was charming and fun. But she didn’t resonate with him. Didn’t stand out as special or unique. She was just another nice girl.
Since when had that made a difference? Not standing out too much was normally just fine for him. But he couldn’t seem to summon any interest in their flirting. It wasn’t that she was with a nasty fellow like Brent. It wasn’t even that she had stolen him from her best friend. He was simply bored.
Brent skated up and muttered a joke about women and athleticism, to which Charles forced a laugh. Kristen rolled her eyes, obviously used to Brent’s attempts at humor, likely not seeing—or not acknowledging—the venom beneath.
Rachel continued to skate away from them, going so slowly around the circle that he feared she’d eventually just stop and get stuck. She made it all the way around the skating rink once before she slipped and landed on her butt.
Without thought, he left Brent in mid-sentence and skated to her, moving so quickly that he threw off shaves of ice when he came to a stop.
“I’m fine,” she said grumpily before he could ask.
“I see that.” With a quick tug, he pulled her up from the ground and she slid immediately against his chest. Her hands settled at his waist, and her breasts pressed close to him. With her face only inches from his, he could smell her spicy cinnamon scent. Her shampoo?
Their eyes met and her breath caught, betraying her interest, even if he hadn’t heard the sudden kick her pulse gave.
“Sure you’re okay?” he murmured. The hand he’d pulled her up with slid to the small of her back. Holding her up—stabilizing her—not pressing her against him. Carefully, he slid her hair out of her eyes with his free hand.
“I’m fine,” she repeated. But her voice was breathless. Her eyes dropped to his lips, and for one brief moment, there was no disguising the hunger in her gaze.
His teeth pricked with a sharp need, and he leaned closer, gripping her body against his in a way that had nothing to do with keeping either of them stable.
Her widening eyes warned him before his own senses kicked in—not something that ever should have happened.
Crass laughter behind him. “Should we leave you two alone?”
Brent.
…
“Would you like me to help rub away the soreness?” Charles waggled his eyebrows at her. Back in the privacy of her room, Rachel grinned at his silliness.
“A butt massage? You wish.” She kind of wished, too, but she certainly wasn’t saying that. But she didn’t try to remove her arm from his, even though she refused to lean on him any more than she absolutely had to in order to stay upright. The ankle was bothering her more than her behind, but she’d still tried to refuse his help once they’d gotten off the ice.
With a grin on his lips, he hadn’t argued, he’d just ignored her and hadn’t let her go.
His eyes twinkled and he cocked his head to examine her butt, like he might be serious about the massage. With her face burning, she looked away so he wouldn’t see her blush, and sat gingerly on the edge of the bed. Huh. Not so bad. A little soreness, but considering the fall, she wasn’t in much pain.
Except for her pride.
Whatever. Her pride fit in perfectly with her butt and ankle. She didn’t have the time to slow down and nurse any of it. “I thought ice-skating would be more like roller-skating.”
“Are you good at roller-skating?”
“Not really,” she admitted. But at least she could stay on her feet. Mostly.
He sat next to her on the bed. “You know you’re making it a little rough for me to make nice with Brent. Let alone flirt with your sister.”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m constantly forced to pull you out of snowbanks and keep you upright while you skate.” He quirked an eyebrow at her. “It’s like you don’t want me to seduce her.”
“Of course I don’t want you to seduce her.” Feeling bold, she tapped his forehead lightly. “It’s like you don’t listen to anything I say.”
“I listen just fine. But it doesn’t change the facts.”
“Oh? What are the facts, then?” She twisted to see him better, and even more so she could move the pressure from sitting down to a less bruised part of her bottom. “Educate me.”
With a quickness of a cat, he reached across the bed to grab a pillow, then scooted it under her arm so she could get more comfortable. “The most important fact is, your sister isn’t going to leave Brent.”
Her stomach dropped. “She will—we just have to—”
“Take your own advice and listen.” His voice was gentle, with just the slightest chiding note that made her want to reach out and flick his nose, just to annoy him as much as he annoyed her.
Yeah, that was a great plan, seek to annoy the vampire in her room. A surge of nervous laughter surged in her throat, but she swallowed it down. “Okay. Listening.”
“She has proven beyond a shadow of doubt that she doesn’t have it in her to leave him—not unless she had good reason to believe that her soul mate—or whatever the hell romantic fantasy she has labeled him with—is someone else. You” —he tapped her nose like she’d tapped his forehead— “won’t allow seduction to be part of the plan. And simply interesting her in someone else isn’t going to do it.”
She swallowed to loosen her jaw enough to speak. “You’re saying that plan B is hopeless.”
“No. I’m saying—you know, I’m not sure I want to tell you if you continue to
listen so poorly.”
Exasperation warred with amusement and worry and she pushed herself up from the bed, ignoring her aching body when it protested. “If you don’t tell me this instant I swear I’ll bite you.”
He went still—oddly still—for a second longer than felt normal to her. “Will you?” His voice was deeper than normal. Off. And she was fighting her own body not to lean toward him, close the less than twelve-inch distance between them. Not to kiss him like he’d kissed her—so softly in the moonlight. Not to push this weird little barely-there flirtation and see where it led. Definitely not.
Because she couldn’t. More than a moment of happiness for her was on the line. This was about Kristen’s future. No matter how much she wondered what it would be like to kiss him—to really be kissed by him.
“Tell me why it’s hopeless,” she said. Not a push. Not with anger. A simple demand.
“I think plan B, like you said, is a no-go. Plan A is still a good idea, but Brent is on his best behavior here. He wants to impress me. I don’t see him easily cheating on his fiancée in front of someone who might find that disgusting. He’s too clever to make that kind of mistake easily.”
“Crap. And you’ve been so helpful to me. He might…”
“Think I like you? Exactly. Is he going to cheat on his fiancée in front of a guy who may or may not condone cheating? And who might just be going after his fiancée’s sister?”
A rush of heat crawled up her neck to her cheeks. “You aren’t going after his fiancée’s sister.”
He ignored her. “We need to adjust the plan.”
She threw herself dramatically back onto the bed, wincing only slightly as her butt came into full contact with the mattress. “I can’t think of a better plan. This is as awesome as my planning skills get when it comes to something like this.”
“Lucky for you, you have me. I see two options. One, you let her fall for another prince—an infatuation that will hurt when she finds out it isn’t forever, regardless of whether the truth is ever shared with her. She’ll be hurt, but she’ll get over it.”
“It’s wrong, Charles. Like a line I can’t cross and still feel…” She sat up on the bed, trying to find the right words.
“Like you’re the good guy for doing all this?” He sat next to her, leaving only inches between them.
“Yes.” She looked down, then felt his hand slide softly across her skin to cup her jaw. She turned to face his icy blue eyes, but they weren’t hard. There was a softness in his gaze. And gentleness. And for some reason, it made her body flush with awareness even more so than his flirting grin.
“You’re doing the right thing as you believe it. And for what it’s worth, I think she’s lucky to have you as her sister.”
Her tears burned and she looked down. He released his hold.
“You said there was another option.”
“Yes, but a trickier one, not so easy nor so cut-and-dried. And achieving it may not be as clean as the other method.”
How could it be worse than urging a man to seduce and then leave her sister? There wasn’t a dirtier path than that—not one she could see Charles suggesting, anyway. It wasn’t like he was going to murder Brent in the woods and make Kristen a young almost-widow.
Would he?
Lost in thought, she flinched when he touched her again, his hand sliding up her shoulder. Without thinking, she leaned into the touch.
“I’m not plotting a homicide, Rachel.” He moved his hand above her shoulder to twirl a bit of her hair around his finger.
“I never said—”
“You wear your thoughts on your face.”
She glared. Let him read that thought.
He chuckled, and the low and sensual sound sent spikes right to her core. “Luckily for you, I’ve already thought of a better plan.”
A rush of hope hit her at his confident tone. “Oh?”
“We’re going to make him think I’m smarmy. A player. A jerk after his own heart. Someone he’d never worry about cheating in front of. Hell—we’ll make him think that will impress me.” He continued to play with her hair distractedly, his gaze locked on the dark threads.
“How?” It was odd. Only a couple of days before, she would have sworn that’s exactly what Charles was. But now, she couldn’t see it. Sure, he was still attractive in that playboy-like way. He was still a flirt. He’d kissed her, after all, seemingly randomly. But the jerk part? Not after he’d been so kind to her—dug her out of a snowbank. Carried her down a hill. Helped her up off the ice.
The idea made sense, there was no arguing that, but how to execute?
“Think about it. What do we know about Brent?”
What to say about Brent Strub? Most of the things that first came to mind were neither polite nor helpful. Objectivity was what she needed, but it was a difficult thing to grasp in this situation. Her worry for Kristen—and her gut-wrenching fear for her own relationship with her sister—made it difficult.
“Just start with the facts, Rachel.” He touched her chin playfully.
“Okay…he’s twenty-eight years old. Ivy League education—Cs the whole way.”
“I’m guessing Cole was the only reason he got Cs.”
She started. The same idea had rattled through her brain since she’d met Cole a year ago. “Maybe. But it’s not because Brent is stupid.”
Charles turned thoughtful. “No. Lazy maybe, but not stupid.”
“He’s single-minded when he wants something, and he hates to lose. He’s athletic, and can be charming. And he’s a master at manipulation.” She swallowed hard. “The way he twists things sometimes with Kristen, makes her doubt herself, I think that’s the worst part.” She mentally shook off the sadness. “Arrogant. He’s arrogant.”
“Full of himself.”
“Yes.” Sudden panic gripped her chest and she forced in a deep breath of air. “Charles, what if this doesn’t work?”
“You know what the downfall is of someone like Brent? He thinks that everyone is like him. That everyone is just as dirty. Just as immoral. It’ll be easy to convince him that I’m just like him. I just need a catalyst.”
Hope surged through her body, filling her with sudden energy. She carefully hopped up from the bed and turned to face Charles. She grasped the vampire’s shoulders and shook him gently. “Yes! Oh, you’re a genius.”
Rough against the soft skin of her arm, his hand squeezed one of her wrists. “Now we just have to figure out the details.”
“The details? Maybe you could tell him a story—make something up about cheating on an ex—”
“No. Our time here is limited. We need something far more dramatic. We need a statement. Something he can’t ignore.” His hand came up again, this time to slide down her jawline. The move was so subtly seductive, for a second, she forgot what they were talking about.
A cold feeling washed over her, and panic jumped into her throat. “No way. That’s not a good idea.”
“Why? Because it would be humiliating for you for a few days? Think of the pain your sister stands to be in for the rest of her life.”
Rebellion surged in her at the blatant manipulation and she wanted to argue, but guilt quickly stamped out the urge. Dammit. He was right.
“Fine,” she managed through gritted teeth. “Let’s work out the details of how you’re going to seduce me.”
Chapter Five
If Charles hadn’t already been convinced of her love for her sister, of her steel resolve that getting Kristen away from Brent was the right thing to do, he would have realized it the second she agreed to his plan. Not only would it be humiliating for her—and Rachel did not strike him as a woman who took humiliation lightly—but it would happen in front of a man she loathed.
Her loyalty was something he’d rarely seen outside of his own family.
But he held his tongue when the offer to help her longer than this week, should it be necessary, pressed against his tongue. Who knew where he’d be next week? If
Brent didn’t prove to be the one threatening Alice, Charles couldn’t hang around Rachel forever, scheming ways to break her sister’s engagement, no matter how much he wanted to.
“What is it?”
A pretty lie came to mind, but he ignored it, deciding to share an almost-truth instead. “I want to promise that I’ll be able to help you after this week, if we don’t break them up in time. But I can’t make that commitment.”
She studied him before she spoke. “You’re strangely honest.”
He jerked back at her words. No one, least of all a woman, had ever accused him of honesty before. Hell, his brothers barely believed him half the time. Even worse, he didn’t think the warmth building in his chest at her reaction was disgust at her assessment. “You barely know me.”
Big hazel eyes wide, she blinked slowly. “You’re right. But I feel it in my gut.” She scooted closer to him on the bed, and he could feel the heat from her body, only inches from his own.
“You aren’t the type to listen to your gut.”
“You’re right.” She licked her lips and there was a sudden energy between them, sizzling in the air like a shock waiting to hit whoever moved first.
Just a taste.
Misgivings far behind instinct, he took her mouth. He’d meant a sweet, soft kiss. Maybe a little brotherly—not that his thoughts after they touched had been brotherly—like the one they’d shared behind the pub. But at the first taste of her soft, perfectly lush and warm mouth, he was lost.
Her tongue slid against his, sweet and perfect and so welcoming that it threw him off guard. He’d expected her to resist. He’d expected her to tell him no and give him that iron stare. He’d expected a fight.
Instead, she gave him fire.
Her arms came around his neck and her body melted against his. Soft breasts pressed against his chest as he held her close and explored her with his mouth. Giving as good as she got, her tongue dipped into his mouth even as he teased her and crushed her body closer to his.
The need to trail kisses down her neck, her stomach, her breasts, was overwhelming. What would she look like under those spinster outfits? If what he could feel beneath his hands, against his body, was any indication, she’d be breathtaking.
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