Winter Soulstice

by Eden Bradley

  He grunted in answer, closed his eyes, let his head fall back. He took a deep lungful of air. She watched his smooth, muscular chest expand with it. When he let it out, he opened his eyes, pinning her with his gaze.

  That’s how she felt: pinned. Impaled. By his pulsing cock. By his eyes, that deep blue gaze hot with lust and something else...

  Even as new waves of pleasure swept through her body, her heart surged at the look in his eyes. There was so much there. But how was that possible?

  When he pulled out, then surged slowly into her again, it made it hard to think. He bent down, kissed her lips, and she knew something had changed.

  His lips were so soft. Soft and pliant. He deepened the kiss, but it was sweeter than it had been before. Beneath the animal lust between them was something more.

  She reveled in his kiss, in everything it made her feel. Her body hummed with pleasure, with the sensation of his cock buried deep, filling her. But his kiss, his presence, filled her, too.

  When he pulled his mouth away, he murmured against her lips, “Ah, Destiny, what is this?” He pulled back a bit more to look into her eyes.

  “Reece.”

  She reached out and laid her hand over his heart. Felt the heavy drum of it beneath her fingertips. And once more she was in his head. Except this time, there was something different. She could still feel his body as though she were a part of him, but there was also an unfamiliar rush of rough emotion. It took a moment before she realized she was feeling what was in his heart.

  Warmth suffused her body. Her being. She knew he could feel it, too.

  “Destiny.”

  “I know.” But did she? What was this exactly?

  “I don’t want this to stop here. I want us to be together.” His voice was rough, smoky.

  “I want that, too. I want you. I want to see what this is between us.”

  “There has to be a reason.”

  “It’s all so impossible—”

  “But it’s not. It’s happening. It’s real.”

  He moved inside her to emphasize his point. Once more she felt that strange sensation of both their bodies at once, of pleasure multiplied.

  “I don’t understand it,” he went on. “I don’t have to. All I know is we were meant to be together like this.”

  The words of Madame Anna came back to her.

  ...the merging of two destined souls.

  Yes.

  As impossible as it seemed, perhaps she was right. The irrefutable evidence was right before her. Inside her. A part of her.

  “I need to feel you, Reece.”

  He groaned and pushed into her. Over and over. The pressure built. Her body trembled with the sheer pleasure of dual sensation, dual emotions. She let it happen, let it all go finally, until they were two beings so thoroughly entwined she couldn’t tell where one left off and the other began.

  It was meant to be like this. That was her last thought before he tensed inside her, and she tumbled with him over the edge. Body. Heart. Soul.

  The End

  Author Bio

  Eden Bradley has been writing since the age of eight; however, her writing is much improved since then. An avid reader, her love of language is a serious obsession, which is calmed only by sitting in front of her computer and writing, and by devouring as many books as she possibly can.

  Eden works as an administrator and managing book review and features editor at Romance Divas, an award-winning writer’s resource Web site and discussion forum. She has published three erotic novellas for e-publishers, as well as a steamy romance novel. Her full-length erotic novel, The Dark Garden, and a three-novella anthology are due to be released from Bantam in 2007, and her erotic novella, Sanctuary, will be released by Berkley Heat in 2007 as part of the Exclusive anthology.

  Eden lives in sunny southern California with a small menagerie and the love of her life.

  Also Available from Cobblestone Press, LLC

  Office Relations by Lia Sebastian © 2006

  Chapter One

  Sabrina Moore stared at the man sitting on the other side of the conference table and reached one inescapable conclusion—she wanted to jump him.

  She never guessed she would feel this way when she was asked to work with Peter Merrill fourteen days, three hours, and seven minutes ago. Not that she was counting. Sure, she enjoyed looking at him. Who wouldn’t? He was tall, dark, and not-quite-handsome, with thick black hair and dark green eyes. After a week, watching him taking off his suit jacket had become the highlight of her day.

  He wore no jacket today, and the rolled-up sleeves of his white shirt revealed muscular forearms that made her want to whimper in frustration. She fantasized about running her hands up and down those arms, feeling his muscles—

  “I made you copies of the charts.” Peter handed her a small pile of papers.

  Work. Right. She stifled a sigh. Obviously concentration was a problem. Unless it meant concentrating on Peter, as she’d done at this morning’s meeting. Who knew quarter-end statistics could be so interesting? She sure hadn’t. But when Peter had discussed market trends, she hadn’t been able to take her eyes off of him. Watching him from a distance was one thing. In close quarters, Peter’s charisma washed over her like an endless waterfall.

  “You did a great job with them,” he said with a smile.

  There was the problem. Peter wasn’t only good looking. He noticed and praised people’s strengths and listened when someone shared an opinion. The truth was, he made her feel valued, at least as a coworker. When they started working together, she had admired his appearance. Now she liked everything about him, except the fact that he didn’t seem to notice her on a personal level. Not the way she noticed him. Maybe he had a girlfriend. Or two. Or—God!—was he gay? She hoped not.

  She didn’t want to think about how things would change next Monday when the project was finished and they stopped spending hours in the conference room. Maybe she should say something to test the waters, see if he was interested. Or she could just jump him. He was a guy, right? Surely he wouldn’t mind. No matter what Cosmo said about the merits of letting a man chase you, today’s woman went after what she wanted. Thinking about how he might react made her smile.

  Then she swallowed and wondered when the temperature had gone up in the room.

  Time to get back to work. Only half an hour left before the end of the day. Sabrina knew she should be grateful for the chance to prove her worth, to show her supervisor what she could do. Her immediate boss had indicated her hard work was sure to get the attention of the Big Boss, the man who ran Stanwood Enterprises. “Your work will send a positive message,” she had said.

  Sabrina had her own message for the Big Boss. I appreciate the assignment to work with Peter Merrill. Thanks, Dad. If the torture continues, don’t expect anything for Father’s Day.

  * * * * *

  Peter saw Sabrina’s faint smile and felt his cock stir. Shit. It was too early for this. They still had half an hour left today to work together on the proposal. As if his dick could tell time. No, it saw something it liked—Sabrina Moore being its current object of affection—and it had to show its appreciation. Peter only wished it weren’t so openly appreciative.

  He shifted in a vain hope the move would hide his erection. How the hell was he getting this turned on when he sat halfway across the room from her?

  On most days, Peter liked working at Stanwood Enterprises, which was refreshingly free of the unpredictable politics that had plagued his previous place of employment. That had been one fucked up company. Going to work was a crapshoot, with praise or insults handed out indiscriminately. Actual work performance had nothing to do with it.

  That company’s biggest problem was nepotism. In fact, many employees had jokingly—or not so jokingly—called it Nepotism Grand Central. Family members of the president, qualified or not, had filled most management positions. If one family member disliked you, they’d all work against you.

  Accepting a job
three years ago at Stanwood Enterprises was one of the best things he’d ever done. There was no nepotism here, and Peter rarely looked back. Except on days like today, when he was in a room with Sabrina Moore and his dick was hard enough to use as a paperweight. On such days, he needed to remember how much worse things could be.

  Peter wasn’t particularly religious, but he prayed to any deity who might be listening to make the day pass quickly.

  Please make the clock move faster. Don’t let her do that little thing where she presses her lips together when she concentrates, that thing that makes me want to nibble on her lower lip before sucking it into my mouth. Don’t let her stand and stretch in the way that pulls her shirt tight across her breasts. And while I’m on the subject, don’t let me think about her breasts and how well they would fit in my palms...

  Fuck. Forget the small stuff. He needed to focus on the big request. Please, please don’t let me come in my pants.

  This prayer obviously wasn’t working. He hadn’t come in his pants yet, but it was touch and go. If only Sabrina would touch so he could go.

  He needed to refocus. Looking away from Sabrina would be a good start. Peter had worked on this project with her for almost two weeks. They’d accomplished a lot, and it was good work, but it was at a cost. His sanity.

  If she didn’t stop wearing that perfume, he was likely to go insane. Being carted away in a straight jacket was a possibility. So was spontaneous combustion. Could he pretend an allergy to the scent? No, not after telling her she smelled good back on day two. Note to self. Think twice about complimenting a woman, no matter what Mom says.

  Thank God this was the last week of the priority project. If he was lucky, he might live through it. Peter turned to look at Sabrina. What was she smiling about, anyway?

  She returned his look, as if waiting for him to speak.

  “How do the charts look?” He picked up his stack of papers and tapped them against the tabletop to straighten them. “We should have this wrapped up tomorrow.”

  Her smile vanished. “They’re fine,” she said, curling her papers in her hand. “I enjoy working with you, Peter. I’ve learned a lot.”

  The woman was beautiful, amazingly gorgeous. She wore bright pink, with a lighter pink tank top underneath her jacket. Her honey-blonde hair was twisted up in some clip thing. He liked it better down around her face. Liked it when she twirled a lock of it through her fingers while reading or thinking. Sabrina was always in motion whether she was twirling her hair, tapping her pen, or doodling in her notebook. Today she’d drawn daisies.

  She continued to look at him with those big blue eyes. Yes, she was beautiful. Her work had proved she was smart. Her words proved that she was sweet, too.

  Damn it.

  “Yeah,” he managed. “Me too.”

  He watched her blink slowly, twice, before she abruptly stood up.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I need to use the bathroom.”

  * * * * *

  Sabrina wanted to kick herself. I need to use the bathroom. Oh, that was clever. It was partly true, though. She was in the bathroom, but instead of using the facilities, she sat in the women’s lounge area holding a tissue to her face and tried not to cry.

  How stupid. Of course Peter didn’t really want to work with her. Why would he? He was on the fast track to management. A few of their coworkers said he was sure to be promoted by the end of the year. Why would he want to work with an average, mid-level employee when he could have his pick of partners?

  She could have a job at the top if she wanted it. All she had to do was ask her father for a higher position, and he’d give it to her. But she didn’t want to rise in the company because of her father. It was one reason why she told no one who her parents were and used her mother’s maiden name. If she advanced, she wanted to do it on her own merit, not because of family connections.

  Hearing Peter’s forced, “me too,” made her stomach clench. She wanted to believe his lack of interest was because he didn’t want to date the boss’ daughter. But he didn’t know who her father was and he still didn’t want her, not even as a coworker. Truth was, his actions lately were odd, like he didn’t even want to be in the same room with her.

  Just her luck. She found a man she was interested in, and he couldn’t even stand to be around her. Okay, that sounded pathetic, but everyone was allowed a little self-pity now and then. She sniffled into the tissue and hoped Peter would leave before she came out.

  * * * * *

  Okay, she’s gone to the bathroom. Peter folded his arms and leaned against the conference table to wait. Growing up with three sisters had taught him that a trip to the bathroom could mean one of a dozen things. Sabrina could be there for obvious reasons, but her downcast gaze made him suspect otherwise. She seemed upset, and he wanted to know why. She’d been fine five minutes ago. Since her briefcase and purse were still here, she was sure to return. Maybe he could get his body back under control while she was gone.

  When ten minutes went by without Sabrina’s reappearance, Peter started to worry. Damn it, where was she? If she didn’t show in another ten minutes, he’d ask a female employee to investigate. He looked at his watch and groaned. He doubted anyone was still around. Stanwood Enterprises was a good company, but there was always a mass exodus at 5:00 P.M.

  Peter was pacing when Sabrina finally returned. She entered the room, tissue in hand, but stopped walking abruptly when she saw him. “Oh,” she said, wrapping her arms around her waist. “You’re still here.”

  “You’ve been crying.” He forced himself not to reach out to her. What was wrong?

  “Oh,” she said again, looking away from him and wiping her face, as if to brush away tears. “No, I’m fine—”

  “Sabrina, I can see you’ve been crying.” Shit, he probably wasn’t supposed to notice. His handling-crying-women skills were obviously rusty. No surprise since his sisters lived in other states now. He had a moment of panic before he took a deep breath. “Can I help with something?”

  “No. I just want to go home.”

  “Okay. Let me walk you out to your car.” He stepped toward her and gently took her arm.

  “Don’t you have to go somewhere?” She went suddenly still, almost frozen—this woman who usually smiled and was always in motion.

  “No, I don’t need to be anywhere else. I need to help you if I can. Or I can listen. Whatever you want.”

  “Right.” Sabrina jerked her arm away from him. “Forget you saw anything. I know you don’t want to be around me. Why act concerned? I’ll be fine.”

  * * * * *

  He should have been happy to leave, happy to get away from her. In fact, Sabrina was surprised he was still here. She hadn’t expected him to look angry.

  He looked straight into her eyes. “Who said I don’t want to be around you?”

  “No one said it. No one said anything. But I’m not stupid.” She took a step away from him before she continued. “I can tell you don’t like being around me. You don’t have to pretend anymore.”

  Peter frowned, then turned away and walked to the window.

  She paused, not knowing what to say next. Why didn’t he respond? “It’s okay, you know. I don’t expect everyone to like me. I was just hoping—”

  “Hoping what?” he said sharply, turning to face her.

  In for a penny. She might as well go for it. “I was hoping you’d like me and like working with me. I’ve...sort of admired you since we started this project, and I like working with you.”

  He couldn’t have looked more stunned if she hit him with a two by four. If she didn’t feel hurt, the expression on his face would have amused her.

  “God,” he said, taking a step toward her.

  She walked to the table to get her briefcase. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  Sabrina glanced at him again. He no longer looked stunned, but she couldn’t interpret his expression.

  �
�You don’t have to—”

  Peter interrupted. “Sabrina. I enjoy working with you. You know your field, you work hard, and you’re good at what you do.”

  Huh? “Then tell me why you sit across the room from me when we work?” she challenged. “Why do you race out of here at the end of the day? Why do you look at me the way you do?”

  “I’m not sure what you mean by the way I look at you, but I can guess. I’ll answer your last question first. I look at you the way I do because I want to fuck you so much I’m ready to explode. I want to fuck you until we’re both too tired to move.”