Star-Crossed Curves: BBW Erotic Romance Boxed Set

by Carolina Moon

  The electricity between them burst into flames as he pulled her to her feet and held her to him, stroking along her shoulders and back and teasing her with that sexy sweet taste of his tongue. Her head was back, her body flush against his, and she moaned into his kiss. He tangled his hands into her damp hair and cradled the back of her head in his hands, making her feel tiny and ravished. Leaving her mouth, he kissed along her cheek and down along her jaw to her throat, inch by inch, until he pressed his lips against the hollow at the base of her throat. She shivered against him, wanting him to go further, wanting him to continue until he had explored every inch of her body.

  Her body. She felt as if all of it were melting into him - except for her stomach, which chose that moment to growl loudly.

  Mason paused, then pulled away and grinned down at her sheepishly. "I think I got carried away. Sorry about that."

  She was still breathless, and busy cursing her stomach. "Don't be sorry. I haven't eaten since night before last, is all."

  "Oh, hell. You must be starving." He straightened up and headed for the fridge. "I'll heat up that pasta. You must think I'm an oaf."

  "No, really, I-"

  "I didn't mean for that to happen, Crista, I promise. You just looked so sexy in that scrap of cloth that I couldn't help myself."

  "Sexy?" He thought she looked sexy? She realized that she felt sexy, too, sexier than she ever had before.

  "Yes, woman. Don't you realize how gorgeous you are?" He was sliding the pan of lasagna into the oven.

  She narrowed her eyes and looked at his back closely. Was he talking about her?

  He turned around again. "You don't, do you? You have no idea the effect you've been having on me all day. From the moment I found you in the snow, I've wanted to kiss you."

  She opened her mouth, but all that came out was a tiny squeak. He laughed.

  "I didn't plan to, though. Kiss you, I mean. I'm just the crazy guy at the lake, after all."

  "No, you're not-," she said and then paused. "Well, OK, you were, until I got to know you somewhat. It's really all right, Mason. Really, really alright. I promise."

  She meant it, too. Regardless of her earlier convictions, she wanted this man. It was crazy, because she didn't know anything about him, but she wanted him. Even if she never saw him again after this trip, she wanted the experience of those kisses and that rock solid body. Was this lust? She wasn't sure, but it certainly felt like it.

  Then again, it felt a lot more substantial than what lust was supposed to feel like. She wanted to know more about him, too, like what he was doing here all by himself for so long, and why he seemed like such a recluse but still got involved in her situation. If he were a hermit or something, wouldn't he have just left her alone?

  These things didn't add up to her definition of lust. Lust was pure unfiltered sexual hunger, no questions asked, and she had felt more than that.

  He interrupted her thoughts by placing a plate of steaming pasta in front of her. "Eat up," he announced, then sat across from her with his own plate.

  She smiled happily at him and took her first bite. And moaned aloud. Oh. Oh, wow. At that point all thought left her head and she concentrated on eating the best meal she'd had in a long time.

  He watched her for a minute, chuckled at her response, and started on his own food.

  The attraction between them remained, though. She could feel it as she ate, and she was sure that he could feel it, too, by the way he kept glancing up at her.

  When she finally felt full, she left him to finish and went back to the fire in the living room.

  His cabin was much larger than hers, and more tasteful. Not decorated, exactly, but everything was in its place, and he had just enough of everything to make it cozy. Pictures on the walls were sparse but well-framed, and a few throw pillows lay across the wide leather sofa. All in all, it looked, well, manly. From the wood to the leather to the big stone hearth, it looked like a man had designed, built and inhabited this place. She wondered if he had ever had a wife. If he did, the woman hadn't put her fingers on this place.

  She wandered over to the wall with pictures and looked up at them. Mason was in several, with another man who had to be his brother. The resemblance was uncanny, except that his brother had a cocky grin on his face while Mason looked more serious. A few more photos featured an elderly but handsome couple, probably his parents.

  She stopped at one of the pictures on the highest tier. In this one, he had his arm slung across the shoulders of a woman, although, it wasn't a loving pose, exactly. Affectionate, maybe, but no passion showed in his pose features. Crista wondered who she was. A sister, maybe?

  Mason spoke from the doorway, interrupting her thoughts. "Didn't you have a phone call to make, now that you've got food and cleanliness taken care of?"

  She turned to look at him and nodded. "Yep. I was just waiting for you to finish up in there - to make sure it was OK."

  "Go ahead. If you need privacy, you can use my office." He pointed toward what she had assumed was an unused guest bedroom. The door was closed.

  "Got it, I will. Thanks."

  This room, too, was definitely masculine. A monstrous, gleaming cherry desk sat in front of a bank of windows that overlooked the lake, and matching bookshelves lined the walls on either side. She glanced at several titles as she walked by, noting that they were almost all law books, interspersed here and there with a few tomes about famous murder investigations.

  The phone was a sleek black thing that she almost couldn't see on the dark blotter. When she pressed it against her ear it felt cold. In fact, the entire room was rather chilly, now that she thought about it. She glanced at the sooty fireplace. He must not use this room a lot.

  Maryanna, her secretary, answered on the first ring. "Where are you?" she squealed.

  "I'm still at the lake - snowed in."

  "I thought so! I've been watching the TV weather since you didn't show up for work today, and I wondered if you'd gotten caught up in that mess."

  "I did. And now I'm stuck here until...well, until they get around to digging me out."

  "Are you all right, though? I know you didn't plan to stay for long."

  "I'm fine, at the moment. I suppose it all depends on how long I'm trapped here."

  "I left you about a thousand voicemails, and when you didn't answer, I covered for you."

  "Covered for me? What happened?"

  "Mr. Donovan showed up, remember? He had an appointment with you to go over his endowment to the library?"

  Crista groaned. "I forgot all about that."

  "Well, I told him that you were snowed in, and that you would call him about it at the first available opportunity."

  "Was he mad?"

  "Oh, yeah. Grumbled something about women directors and finding a back-up plan."

  "OK, give me his number." Crista jotted it down on a sticky note pad that was lying near her hand.

  "So," Maryanna said. "Have you become a wilderness woman yet? Hunting, building fires, traipsing through the snow to defend your territory from marauders?"

  "Not exactly," Crista answered, laughing. "I've actually almost killed myself at least twice, and I keep accidentally hurting Mason with my clumsiness, too."

  She heard a low chuckle and glanced out of the corner of her eye to see Mason building a fire in the fireplace.

  "Whoa, lady! Who's Mason? Did you take a...fling...up there with you?" She said the word fling in a strained whisper, as if it were forbidden. "Are you having a bigger adventure than I thought?"

  "No." She should have kept her mouth shut. Who knew what kind of ridiculous scenes Maryanna was concocting in her head now? "He actually lives here at the lake, not far from our - my - cabin. He's just helping me out."

  "Helping you out of what?" Maryanna teased.

  "Stop it. No adventures, no passionate embraces." The scene from the kitchen flashed through her mind, and she licked her lips. "Just me, with the help of a nice neighbor, waiting until
I can get out of here."

  "If you say so.... Just take time out from your little tryst to call Mr. Donovan, OK? And have fun. It's been forever, and you deserve it!"

  "I'm not-" But the line was dead. She clicked the off button and groaned.

  She couldn't believe that she had forgotten about the most important appointment of the year. How stupid could she get? She clicked the phone on again, and dialed the number Maryanna had given her. It went to voicemail. She'd have to try again in a bit.

  Strong, warm arms slid around her waist. "So, no passionate embraces?"

  Crista didn't answer for a moment. She just laid her head back against his chest and soaked in the feeling of him against her body. Then she said, "I've been alone for a while now."

  "Me, too. I was pretty sure that that was how I wanted it."

  "Not me, but I've been more than willing to take a break from all of the drama."

  He hugged her close, and she felt the heat of him through her jersey. He said, "And now?"

  "I don't know. Maybe it's just that you're my hero for the moment, or that I'm afraid, but I feel very close to you." She felt silly saying it, but it was true. "What about you?"

  "I think that you are the most gorgeous creature that I've ever seen. I think you are a surprise and an adventure, all rolled into one, and I want a taste of you in my life. I have to warn you, though, I come with too much baggage. I don't think I can have a real relationship anymore."

  "Then why are you being so nice to me? I mean, I get that you're a nice guy, but you brought me food and firewood, which is a lot. Why the kisses, too, if you just want to be alone?"

  She tilted her head up to look at him, and he led her to a big recliner in the corner and pulled her down onto his lap. It was darker here, but she could still see a rueful smile play across his lips.

  "I never said that I wanted to be alone. I said that I don't think I can have a relationship anymore."

  "Why not?"

  He didn't answer for a long time, and she thought that he wasn't going to. Looking at him, she could see a deep sadness that tore at her heart. Suddenly, she wanted to know all about him - everything, even what demons had taken up residence in his heart.

  On impulse, her hands slicked into his hair and she pulled him to her breast, hugging his head close and breathing in the clean male scent of him.

  Finally, he said, "I really can't go into it, but let's just say that I don't have the kind of past that a man is proud of."

  "Mason, we all have a past. There's nothing to be ashamed of - it's who you are now that matters." She sounded like a motivational speaker, but she couldn't help it. Considering how much he had helped her, she didn't think he deserved such sorrow. He had shown her that he was a good man, and she was surprised to discover that he doubted himself.

  He let out a short bark of a laugh. "I wish I felt the same way, but I don't. I have a past that no one would want to claim."

  She tilted his head up. "Well, I, for one, don't care. I didn't come up here looking for a cabin-mate, and I'm a big girl. If you don't want a relationship, I understand." She took a deep breath. "But I would like to get to know you better while we're here."

  She didn't know what she was doing. All she knew was that she wanted this man. He embodied all of the S's rolled into one - solid, strong, and sexy as sin. Maybe it was the circumstances, maybe it was Maryanna's observations, but she wanted him. It was reckless, too, but he was a bad boy, and she knew that she would never again give her heart to a bad boy. She was safe here, sharing only warmth and comfort on a cold night.

  Most amazingly, he wanted her, too.

  She let go of him and slid to the floor between his knees. "Be with me, Mason. Please?"

  When she looked into his eyes, she could see that he was torn. His brows furrowed, betraying his worries, but then smoothed again. Then he groaned and bent forward, claiming her lips with his own.

  Releasing her, he pushed her down onto the rug and lay down beside her. One arm cradled her head, and he slid the other down so that his hand rested on her thigh. Heat built and rolled through her as his body pressed against hers, and she lifted her head slightly to find his lips again. Firm but tender, his mouth moved over hers, flicking her with the tip of his tongue. When hers darted out to meet his, he pulled it into between his lips and sucked it gently. The action took her breath away, and she pressed herself more firmly against his hard body.

  Together, they rolled closer to the flames and he pulled her jersey over her head, but not completely off. Her hands were effectively bound above her now, her high, firm breasts exposed and aching for his touch. He used the moment to kiss her lips, her jaw, her throat. She arched forward, breathless with his attention.

  He kissed every inch of her thoroughly, moving to the base of her throat and then farther, leaving a trail to her nipple, which he caught between his lips. Her jersey slipped from her hands, freeing her, but she didn't move.

  She gasped as desire bloomed through her body, and began rubbing her thighs together to quell the itch that was growing there. Never leaving her nipple, he slid his hand down along her belly and nestled it between her legs, making room to touch her. Sliding a finger inside the elastic of her panties, he found her slit and parted it.

  She was moaning aloud now, on fire with sensation and barely able to breathe. Her chest rose and fell as she gasped again and again at every touch of his hand and mouth. The moist heat between her legs seemed to explode into the rest of her body, making her quiver and whimper into the air.

  She had waited her entire life to feel like this, and now she wasn't sure she could endure the intensity. Every nerve in her body hummed with pleasure, every muscle quivered like jelly, and she wanted it to never end.

  He kept probing, his hand wet with her juices, and she could see the firelight reflected in his beautiful eyes. They, too, smoldered with need when he met her gaze and, at the same time, slid one finger fully inside of her. She exhaled sharply and pushed against his hand, wanting more. His lips slipped from her breast.

  "You're lovely, Crista," he whispered as one finger and then two worked in and out of her. You're the most magical thing I've ever seen."

  His words stroked her ears as she began to build toward a climax, and all she could do was hang onto his shoulders as it roared through her, shooting stars through her body and golden, liquid light through her blood. He pulled her against his chest and held her close as she lost control, anchoring her as she spun out into fragments of herself. She cried out his name, but couldn't hear it as she bucked against his hand and held on to him for dear life.

  He didn't let her energy fully subside, but quickly undressed and knelt between her legs. For a moment, he simply looked at her, his hands roaming from her shoulders, down to cup her breasts, then even farther to splay across her belly and waist, saying, "Open for me, Crista. Let me have you."

  And she did. Wrapping her legs around his back and pulling him to her, she panted as he pushed forward and guided himself inside, filling her up with the sweetness of intimate union. How had she ever been without him, how would she ever be the same again? She wouldn't, she knew, and this may be all that she ever got from him. In response to this thought, she wrapped herself around him and held on for dear life.

  He stroked her gently at first, controlling the raging tide that was trying to consume them both, and then more insistently as she welcomed it and urged him on. They found a rhythm together, driving their heat faster and faster toward a detonation that threatened to consume her completely. She gave him all of herself, everything she had, offering herself openly and completely and reveling in the freedom of it.

  She felt him pulse and thicken inside of her, and when the earth shattered around them, she cried out again and she heard him answer, saying her name over and over, as if lost without her.

  Moments later, spent, he lay down fully atop her and pulled her face into the hollow of his shoulder, cradling her head against him and making her feel pre
cious with his touch.

  As she stroked the muscles of his muscular back, she felt only wonder that she had never known it could be like this. Her thoughts spiraled through her mind, not landing anywhere long enough to catch hold of - only sure that she wanted to be with this strong, mysterious man forever.

  ***

  Crista awoke the next morning ravenous, but lay still for a few more minutes and enjoyed Mason's arm thrown across her body. He looked relaxed and handsome in sleep, and she wanted to savor every moment of him. She felt deeply happy, and thoroughly satisfied - maybe for the first time in her life.

  They had fallen asleep there in his office last night, waking once to make love again, before drifting off completely. Now, she gently lifted his arm and rolled from under it, then found her clothes. Tiptoeing into the kitchen, she wondered if he had the ingredients for pancakes. She thought that she would love to make him pancakes for breakfast.

  Now that morning had come - sort of, it wasn't even light outside yet - she realized that she had given herself more credit than she actually deserved. She had told her heart that Mason was off-limits, and she had expected it to obey. Now, she knew better. Her heart was paying no attention to her commands - it was too busy flip-flopping around in her chest, making room for Mason.

  He had told her that he wasn't ready for a relationship, and while she fiddled around in the kitchen, looking for flour and sugar, she tried her hardest to explain that to her heart. It just wasn't listening anymore. She would have to deal with it later. Right now, she was making him pancakes.

  She thought she had everything she needed, so she snooped some more and then started opening drawers, looking for a spoon. The last drawer was jammed, blocked by a huge black book of some sort. She had to pry at it, pushing down on the offending object and working it under the lip of the counter before it would allow the drawer to open. Pulling it out of the way, she discovered the spoons and grabbed one up to stir her batter.