Crazy Over You (Love with Altitude #2)

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Crazy Over You (Love with Altitude #2) Page 17

by Daisy Prescott


  I think about locking the cats in the closet so they don’t bother her.

  Jesse stands and his eyes darken. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

  His expression tells me he’s thinking of several ways to show his gratitude and they’re probably going to involve being naked. He steps into my space.

  “You’ve said thanks. I’m happy I could be the one to help her. I adore Fern.”

  “Thank you.” His lips brush mine. “Thank you.”

  He takes another step and I’m forced to take one back. “You’re welcome.”

  “You’re incredible.” We take another step backward. “Sexy, adorable, smart, and beautiful.”

  Standing on my toes, I attempt to kiss him, but I only manage to graze his lips.

  He’s slowly walking me backward down my hall. “I want to know all of you.”

  “I hope you want to start with naked me. She’s a lot of fun.” I bump into the doorjamb but it doesn’t stop me. I feel my way to the bed and pull him down on top of me.

  He braces himself on his forearms above me. “Oh really?”

  I nod and unbutton his jeans.

  The next few minutes are a blur of stripping off each other’s clothes until we’re all warm skin and greedy hands.

  He kisses his way down my chest to my navel. I love the direction this is going and happily encourage him with my hands in his hair.

  “Patience,” he whispers with his lips pressed against my hips.

  “Life’s short and we only have a limited amount of time before George begins his revenge.”

  I feel more than hear his laughter as he kisses between my legs.

  “This is the only pussy I care about.” He licks me and I arch off the bed.

  He did not just say that.

  I knew he was a dirty talker.

  “George doesn’t have the nuclear codes. We’ll be fine.”

  Jesse draws my attention back to him by nipping my inner thigh. I feel his smile on my skin.

  His magical tongue and long fingers get down to the business of making me forget everything but the sensation of his touch. In minutes, I don’t know my own name. I’m ninety-seven percent sure I’m moaning and writhing like a woman possessed.

  “I love watching you come,” he says, softly kissing the corner of mouth.

  As I float down from my orgasm, I open my eyes to see his self-satisfied grin.

  It’s the first time he’s used the words I and love and you in a sentence together. I need a moment.

  He didn’t declare his love for me, but this happy bubble around us right now feels like falling in love.

  I wonder if he feels it, too.

  Gripping him, I brush his tip along my slick skin. His eyes close and he hums in pleasure.

  He’s handsome in any situation, but never more so when he’s barely holding on to his control.

  “Condoms in the nightstand.” I point to the side of the bed where a fresh box was recently tucked inside it.

  “I like that you planned for this.” He kisses me quickly and reaches across to the drawer.

  “Once I figured out you don’t suck in bed, I decided we need to have sex as often as possible.”

  He freezes. “For two years you thought I was terrible in bed?”

  I nod and resist telling him my micro-penis theory. I’m holding the evidence to the contrary in my hand, unable to close my fingers around him.

  He scoffs. “Let me remind you how not terrible I am.”

  He does.

  Oh boy, does he.

  As we lie tangled together, recovering from our orgasms, he brushes his fingers along my back. “You really don’t remember what happened that night?”

  I snuggle closer to him. “Vague flashes. We went dancing.”

  “Want me to tell you?”

  “Is it awful and embarrassing?” I duck my face into his side.

  “Not at all.” He kisses the top of my head. “At least not for me.”

  “Fine. Let’s get it over with.” Resting my chin on his chest, I stare up at him.

  “I’ll start at the beginning.”

  “Be sure you don’t leave out a single detail.” I lace my words with sarcasm.

  “You’re adorable.”

  Chapter 24

  Jesse: Two Years Ago

  MARA INSISTS SHE can make me dance and begs me to take her to a club. I’m up for the challenge, so I bring her to Escobar’s, a tiny slice of a place with an even smaller dance floor. I’m betting it’ll be too crowded to do any actual dancing.

  Undeterred, she drags me by the hand into the fray of bodies.

  I’m so far out of my comfort zone.

  “Come on, you’re as stiff as a corpse.” She wiggles my arms with her hands. “Show me your moves.” Pressing herself closer to me, she begins to move, undulating her hips and rubbing her chest against mine.

  I grip her hips and growl low in her ear, “I don’t dance.”

  “Fine, stand there. Be the pole. I’ll dance around you.” She turns around and begins to grind her ass against me.

  This woman is going to kill me. She knocks down every wall I’ve put up and she doesn’t even know she’s doing it.

  I wrap an arm around her waist and dip my head closer to repeat her words from earlier. “I thought you said you weren’t a stripper.”

  “Doesn’t mean I don’t have moves.”

  To prove her point, she drapes an arm behind my neck and holds my hand right below her breast. We’re connected back to front. There’s not enough room between us to slide a piece of paper.

  As we move together, I fight getting hard. It’s as impossible as resisting her charms.

  To save a few scraps of my control, I spin her in my arms to face me. My hands go to her hips and my mouth finds hers.

  I couldn’t give a fuck who’s watching us as we kiss. She wraps a leg around my thigh and grinds against the hard muscles.

  Waving the white flag, I give in and move with her. In no sense is this dancing. More like vertical foreplay.

  God, I want her.

  Suddenly, I have the urge to pull her hair and tip her neck back … so I do. I suck on the soft spot behind her ear and feel her shiver in my arms despite the overcrowded and heated space.

  A table of women near us open bottles of prosecco and shake them, spraying the crowd.

  Great. I love smelling like sweet wine.

  Mara slips on the wet floor and tips forward. If I weren’t standing behind her, she’d probably face plant. In retrospect, the club was a mistake. She’s gone from fun tipsy to probably going to vomit. She’s sexy and beautiful, but drunk, which means we’re not having sex tonight.

  I’m disappointed, but I’ll still make sure she gets home safely. It’s the right thing to do.

  After the prosecco shower, I’ve had enough fun. I think Mara has too. Her cheeks are permanently flushed and her eyes are glassy.

  “Come on, Cinderella. Let’s get you back home before one of us turns into a giant squash.”

  She’s giggling and writhing in my arms. Every time she laughs, her hips brush against the raging hard-on I’ve been sporting since she made me slow dance with her. The whole evening has been slow burning torture.

  I lead us out of the bar and find out where she’s staying. Luckily, the condo she’s renting is only a few blocks away. An easy walk if we were both sober. An idea pops into my head. I lean forward while bending my knees.

  “You look like you’re playing football or about to poop on a public toilet.”

  I chuckle at her random thought process. “Neither. I thought of something. Hop on.”

  “On what?”

  “I’ll give you a piggyback ride home.”

  She stands there blinking at me.

  “Come on. I promise not to bounce you too much.”

  With a cautious expression on her face, she steps behind me. Her arms wind around my neck and I wrap my hands around her thighs. “Ready?”

  “Giddy
up.” She giggles.

  Carrying her is easy, but she keeps giggling. When she giggles, she wiggles and presses her chest against my back.

  This evening is a study in torture and masochism.

  We arrive outside her complex and I gently set her back on her feet.

  “You’ve ruined me for walking.”

  I wish she said those words for other reasons.

  We must come to the same conclusion, because she blushes and fumbles her keys.

  Once she manages to pick up her keys from the ground, I take over opening the door to the condo.

  “Which one’s your room?” I ask in the living area.

  She points behind herself. “You want to see it?”

  Yes, because I’m a masochist.

  “No, that’s okay. I can wait here while you shower.”

  “You’re sticky, too.” Her shy smile kills me. “We can shower together.”

  She wobbles on her heels and I steady her. “How about I wait right outside?”

  Her full bottom lip gets fuller as she pouts. “You’re going to be a gentleman, aren’t you?”

  “If that means I’m not going to take advantage of a drunk woman, then I guess so.” I want to stop talking and kick myself.

  The evening started with a plan. Drink. Find a woman. Have sex. Forget myself and my life for a few hours. I thought I had everything in place when Mara fell into my arms. She made me laugh and smile more in a few hours than I have in months. I even forgot to be angry at the world and Cody with her around. Maybe that’s why I grew a conscience tonight. I imagine she’s incredible in bed if her kisses are anything to go by. She’s more than interested and willing.

  It kills me I know I’m going to wake up tomorrow without having had sex with her.

  It would be so easy to give in and say yes to her.

  Why can’t I find my morals tomorrow?

  A thump and a squeal from the bathroom snap me into action. Rushing down the hall, I find the door open.

  Mara’s managed to get the shower started, but she forgot the part about taking off her clothes before getting into it.

  She waves at me with a happy smile. “My clothes are sticky and smell like prosecco. I thought it would be a good idea to rinse them off, too.”

  I shake my head and lean a hip against the counter. “I can see the logic, but won’t you ruin your dress?”

  Smiling, she shrugs. “Not my dress. Sofie will probably kill me, but at least it won’t smell like a bridal shower gone wild.”

  “Why did you scream?” I scan her for injury.

  “The water was too cold.”

  Once I’m certain she’ll manage the shower on her own, I should leave, but I don’t. Hopping up on the counter, I listen as she rambles. There’s no point in trying to follow her thoughts. I zone out until I hear the wet slap of fabric hitting the floor of the shower.

  I slide my eyes to the side to confirm she’s now topless and about three seconds from naked. My self-control hangs by four thin threads. I drop down from the counter and then go in search of something dry for her to wear. On the top of her suitcase I find a tank and shorts. Without looking at the shower at all, I carry them into the bathroom and leave them on the counter for her.

  “I’ll wait for you in the other room.” I back away, keeping my eyes on my boots and closing the door behind me.

  While she finishes, I search the kitchen for a glass. I find one, fill it with water, and set it on her nightstand.

  I swear I’ll leave as soon as she gets into bed.

  The bathroom door swings open and a very pink, clean Mara walks out. The tank and shorts cover only as much as a bathing suit would. Without a bra, her breasts are clearly outlined. Her nipples peak in the cool air of the room. She’s beautiful and all round curves.

  My resolve weakens.

  Clearing my throat, I point to the glass. “I didn’t know if you have any ibuprofen, but I brought you some water. You should hydrate. The altitude.”

  I’m trying not to ogle her as she walks closer to where I sit on the bed. I stand.

  “Stay with me?” she asks. With her fresh, makeup-free face she’s even more gorgeous. She also looks young and innocent.

  My resolve returns.

  “I’ll stay until your friends return. Come on, get into bed.”

  “Join me?” She slips underneath the duvet.

  Her sleepy eyes can barely stay open. After tucking her in, I lie down next to her.

  “You probably won’t remember most of tonight when you wake up in the morning, but I’m going to say this because you should know. I haven’t met anyone in a long time who I wish wasn’t temporary.”

  She snuggles against me. “I like you.”

  I don’t know if she even realizes she’s petting my pecs again. “I like you, too.”

  “Would you ask me out on a date if I lived here?” Her words come out slow and soft.

  “I’d do everything I could to make you fall in love with me if you were local.”

  Her hand stills. I think she’s going to respond to my crazy declaration.

  Instead, she presses a kiss on my chest. In seconds her breathing deepens and she falls asleep.

  I promise myself I’ll get up in a minute.

  Or two.

  I wake with a start. I fell asleep in my clothes.

  It’s still dark out, which means I’m not late for work, but I have no idea what time it is.

  Mara is lying curled around me, one leg thrown over my thigh and her hands resting on my chest.

  I smile at the memory of her touching me last night. My morning wood presses against my jeans—a painful reminder nothing happened.

  If I didn’t have to be on the mountain this morning, I’d wait for her to wake up and make love to her.

  Slipping out of bed, I stand and scan the room for my phone. I have an hour to get home and get to work. There’s no time to do anything but say good-bye.

  I kiss the top of her head and tuck the comforter around her. She snuggles deeper into the pillows.

  In the living room I discover a notepad and leave a quick note.

  For the first time in months, I’m awake with a smile on my face. The heaviness and anger living in my chest are gone.

  Out on the sidewalk, I find her window and pause.

  I could call in sick. Go back inside and wake her up.

  I know I won’t do either of those things, but for a brief moment, I want to.

  Chapter 25

  Mara

  “GET DRESSED. I want you to show you something.” He kisses my neck as I wash our breakfast dishes.

  The scent of bacon and maple syrup still hangs in the air. I inhale deeply. He’s bare chested because I’m wearing his shirt. Stealing his shirt is a two-fer: I love being wrapped in his scent, and Jesse in only jeans might be my new favorite thing. We’ve spent the morning hanging out in my apartment and it’s been blissfully normal.

  “Like if you show me yours, I have to show you mine? Haven’t we been doing that. Twice last night and once this morning in the shower.”

  His warm lips skim my jaw. “No, something … serious.”

  I stop laughing and face him. “How serious? Like a STD serious?”

  “I thought we’ve established I’m more of a hermit than a whore.” His warm caramel eyes hold nothing but sincere truth.

  “True that.” I give him a soft kiss.

  “Trust me?” He sounds a little nervous.

  “I do.” I don’t pause to think about it.

  I reluctantly peel off his shirt and get dressed in my own boring clothes that don’t smell like him.

  Our fingers remain intertwined as we descend the stairs and walk outside. With a tug, he pulls me in the direction of his SUV parked next to my car. I follow without protest because I do trust him.

  We drive toward Aspen. At the roundabout, he turns right, taking us down a road I’ve never seen before. We’re still technically in Aspen, but the neighborhood is unfamili
ar to me.

  I’m about to ask if he’s showing me where he buries the bodies when he pulls down a narrow, unpaved drive.

  At the cemetery.

  “Don’t freak out.” He’s watching me like he expects me to panic.

  “I’m not.” I totally am. “This is … different.”

  “I want to explain where my head was at when we first met two years ago.”

  Nervous for a serious conversation, I run my finger along the stitching next to my thigh on the seat. “You don’t owe me any explanations, not now, and not then. We were strangers.”

  “We’re not anymore. It’s important.” I lift my eyes at the tone in his voice. The energy in the car has shifted from our usual joking self-protection to something real. It’s terrifying.

  “Okay.” I nod.

  He waits for me in front of the hood. When I reach him, he takes my hand and laces our fingers together.

  “I don’t handle death well. I hate animal movies because there’s always death in them. I avoid funerals and usually hold my breath when I pass a cemetery.” I blurt all of this in a continuous stream without breathing.

  “Don’t hold your breath now. I’m here. It’s all good.” He gives me a soft, half-smile and squeezes my hand.

  “Weirdest date ever,” I whisper as I drag my feet behind him. This is going to be serious. I don’t always handle big issues well. I deflect with humor and avoidance.

  Jesse leads me to a row of graves along a bluff. Below us the Roaring Fork river cuts its way through town. Multi-million dollar homes look down from Red Mountain. “It’s a beautiful view.”

  Which none of the residents of the cemetery can enjoy.

  “It is. It’s a nice place to spend time.” His voice is soft and he gives my hand a squeeze.

  “Or all of eternity.” I slap my hand over my mouth. “I’m sorry. I’m an asshole.”

  He chuckles. “Cody would’ve loved your lack of filter.”

  It finally hits me why we’re here. His brother is buried along this ridge. I spot his headstone among the others. A simple gray slab of granite carved with mountains. My nerves buzz like an angry hive of bees. Jesse stops in front of his brother’s grave and wraps his arm around me.

 

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