So they knew. About her and Sloane.
Yet for some reason Riley couldn’t quite explain, even to herself, she still wasn’t ready to admit the truth, even if the cat was out of the bag. Because Sloane’s stay here was so very temporary. As was their relationship. She had to remember that, and to protect her heart.
Before Sloane could do anything stupid like confess, she spoke up. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken, Mrs. Dorchester. Sloane and I have a purely professional relationship and intend to keep it that way.”
Sloane propped his elbow on the arm of the sofa, perched his chin comfortably on top, and flashed an utterly dry look in her direction. “That’s too bad.”
She swallowed nervously. “Why’s that?”
“Because you don’t know what you’re missing.”
At the end of the last scene, Laura stopped to freshen her coffee, then returned to the computer. Outside, the first snow to fall since her arrival began to waft down in soft, pretty flakes. She thought of Braden’s silly pet name for her—snowflake—and smiled.
That’s when she heard his footsteps on the stairs. He’d slept in this morning, but she’d refused to let herself stay in bed with him. She’d been burning to write—and thinking that snuggling too much with her lover could only lead to her doom, just like Riley with Sloane.
“Hey, snowflake, what’s shakin’?”
She turned to find his hair mussed, and the lower half of his body clad in flannel pants dotted with miniature beer mugs, which she thought cute. His bare chest, however, far surpassed cute.
“My book’s shakin’,” she said, getting to her feet. “Sleepyhead.”
He cast a lazy grin. “You wore me out last night.”
She met him halfway across the room in a comfy embrace. “Try having four orgasms in one night, buddy,” she teased.
He tilted his head, peering wistfully off into the distance. “I did that once. Many years ago, back when I was a young stud.”
“What are you now?”
“A more mature stud,” he said with one arched brow, “who’s only good for a mere two or three.” He concluded with a wink.
Her breasts practically swelled as she remembered their shower, and their sex in the window. “Mmm, last night’s two were heavenly.” She lifted a small kiss to his sumptuous mouth.
“I was thinking,” he said slowly, “that we could make today fun, too—in a different way.”
“Oh?”
“Why don’t you let me steal you away from your work for an afternoon on the slopes.”
Laura pulled in her breath, weighing the invitation. Part of her was thrilled, and dying to accept. She hadn’t skied in ages and knew she’d enjoy spending a snowy day with Braden, even if he had to give her a refresher course on the finer points of the sport.
“Fresh powder coming down,” he said, motioning toward the window in an attempt to sway her.
And she was just about to say yes—when she stopped herself. “I can’t, Braden.”
He looked sincerely disappointed. “Really?”
“I’ve backed myself into a corner with this book,” she explained. Which was the truth. “I have a looming deadline, and if I stay on my current pace, I might be able to keep paying my rent. But if I stop writing now, even for a day, there’s a chance I’ll lose my rhythm—I’ll get too far away from the story and won’t be able to get back into it with the same speed.” She pressed her palms to his sexy, muscular chest. “I would love to ski with you, but I really can’t. Forgive me?”
She couldn’t quite read his eyes when he stayed silent for a minute, but he finally said, “Make it up to me later?”
“Any way you want.” She dropped her hands to his ass and squeezed.
Of course, she’d left out all the other practical reasons she was turning him down. Besides having a book to write and bills to pay, she also had a heart to protect. This was all about sex, her and him, and if she let it become about anything more, she feared she’d start getting too attached to him. Hell, maybe she already was—she doubted she could share such intense intimacy and not feel a sense of loss when it ended.
But she could at least try to keep from making it worse. She’d gotten her wish of getting to know him a little last night, and it was just enough to worry her, to make her feel that pang of warmth in her heart that went beyond the connection of their bodies. Just seeing his smile now affected her a bit deeper. And Lord, how she’d let go of her inhibitions last night in a way she never had before! All because of him, because he’d willed it, wanted it.
So turning down a day of fun in the snow with him was torturous—but wise.
“Guess I’ll have to fall back on Tommy again. I’ll let you get back to work, and I’ll be out of your hair soon, snowflake.” He said it all very dramatically, as if he were greatly put upon, and she tossed him a playful smirk just before he disappeared back up the stairs.
Twenty minutes later, as Riley was making up lies to Sloane about why she’d denied their involvement even when his aunt had figured it out, Braden came trotting back down, looking rugged and hot in blue jeans and a gray cable-knit sweater with the sleeves pushed up. “I’m gonna hang at Tom’s for awhile, then head down the mountain to pick up a few more groceries. Any special requests?”
“Just a kiss good-bye.” She wanted to smack herself as soon as the words left her—it sounded romantic, like something a girlfriend would say.
She relaxed, though, when he strode easily to the desk and bent to give her a soft, sweet kiss that curled her toes.
“So, your friend,” she said, “what does he do that he can just ski or hang out whenever he feels like it?”
“He designs computer games. Sets his own schedule. Which reminds me,” he added with a tilt of his handsome head, “would you mind if I invited Tommy to dinner tonight?”
Laura hoped the surprise didn’t show on her face. She couldn’t help suffering some disappointment that he’d want dinner with a friend to interrupt their hot and heavy sex, since—as last night had proven—even dinner could be foreplay. But she said, “Sure, that’s fine.”
“Tommy didn’t seem quite himself yesterday. Apparently he had an ugly breakup last fall and hasn’t really recovered. I figure maybe he could use the company, a change in routine or something.”
“Oh.” Guilt for her selfishness instantly reamed her. “Well, yes, definitely invite him.” She supposed, now that it was sinking in a little, she was also touched that Braden would allow her into his personal life this way, since having his friend over to dinner with them made her feel almost relevant in his life, not like someone he was keeping under wraps. “What does Tommy know about me?” the musing prompted her to ask.
“Just the basics. That you’re a writer here on retreat. That I saw you through the webcam and thought you were hot so came up to meet you.”
She sucked in her breath. “Whoa, he knows you watched me?”
“Relax, snowflake. He has no idea what I watched you doing. I promised you that was just between us, remember? He thinks I just saw you walking around the house or working at the computer. Clothes on.” He winked. “And he thinks I then rudely shoved my way into your retreat with no regard for your privacy.”
She smiled with relief, then uttered her next thought. “Though I guess he knows we’re sleeping together now.”
Braden shrugged with his usual confidence. “Wouldn’t make sense for me to still be here barging in on your retreat if we weren’t. But it’s no big deal.”
Ah, the statement reminded her—these were playboy types who had lots of girlfriends, lots of wild affairs. It eased her mind about meeting Tommy, under the circumstances, but also forced her to remember she was one of many. So it was a darn good thing she wasn’t getting attached to Braden, and a good reason to keep making sure she didn’t.
As she watched her lover walk out the door, it occurred to her she’d been in this house not quite a week yet. But in that time, she’d written half a book and had
the most outrageous, scintillating affair that she ever—or never—could have imagined.
“So what’s the deal with this girl at your house?” Tommy asked as they sat watching the snow fall out the window and sharing a couple of beers.
Braden was surprised Tommy hadn’t asked more about Laura yesterday, but skiing had kept interrupting talking. He wasn’t quite sure how to answer, given the promise he’d made Laura about keeping the specifics just between them. “Let’s just say,” he began, “that I’m . . . expanding her sexual horizons.”
Tommy’s curiosity was clearly piqued. “Details?”
Ah, just what Braden couldn’t provide. Maybe he’d said too much already—so he’d at least try to keep it simple. “Don’t get me wrong, I think she liked sex before, but”—he grinned—“she likes it better now. She’s . . . losing her inhibitions.”
Tommy laughed. “Under your expert tutelage, right?”
“Something like that.” And Braden knew he should shut up if he really wanted to keep his promise, but thinking about those inhibitions that had been dropping away from her, falling as smooth and effortless as the snow outside, he felt compelled to add, “I like watching it happen, watching her let herself go. I think I’m coaxing something out of her that no other guy has ever bothered to look for in her before.”
Tommy’s expression dripped with disbelief. “If you tell me she’s like a butterfly bursting free of her cocoon, dude, I’ll throw up.”
Braden just laughed. He’d apparently gotten a little too insightful there. But if it changed the topic, that was probably a good idea. “You’re just sour on women right now,” he told his buddy. “You need to snap out of it.”
“You’re right. I do.” Tommy took a swig from his longneck. “But something about the same old snow bunnies isn’t working for me. It’s not that I want another big relationship—I don’t, not for a long time anyway—but I seem to attract such . . . total airheads.”
Braden raised his eyebrows. “This is news to you?” Braden had skied with Tommy enough in the eight years since they’d become neighbors and friends—and gone with Tommy to enough bars, too—to know the girls who generally approached him. He was right—he drew rich little ski bunnies without a thought in their pretty heads beyond what was hot in skiwear this season and how much they wanted to get laid. It wasn’t that a girl needed to be a rocket scientist, but even Braden could see where the chicks Tommy drew would get old fast.
“I guess I never cared about that before. But now, even if it’s just a one-nighter, I’d like a woman I could at least have a decent conversation with before we fuck—know what I mean?”
“You need to make a change of some kind, dude,” Braden advised him.
“Like what?”
Braden shrugged. “I don’t know. Take a trip. Go to different bars—or slopes. Just do something to shake things up a little so you can get back on the horse and get on with your life. Which reminds me—you want to come down tonight, eat some pizza, meet Laura?”
Tommy drew back, clearly shocked. “You want me to meet this girl? This is that kind of thing?”
Braden blinked. “What kind of thing?”
“Dude,” Tommy said, lowering his chin to flash a knowing expression, “we’ve been hanging out for a long time now, but you’ve never asked me to meet a girl.”
True enough. Yet it wasn’t like Tommy thought. “Look, it’s pizza. And beer. She just happens to be there. I’d invite you down either way.”
Tommy tilted his head. “She doesn’t mind trading in a night of sex for a night of hanging out with your buddy up the hill? Hell, you don’t mind that?”
Braden tipped his bottle to his mouth, then grinned. “I didn’t say you were staying long.”
By the time Braden returned home, Laura was glad to see him. But damn, that was a bad sign—it meant she was starting to miss him when he wasn’t around.
She offered to help with the groceries, yet he declined, telling her to keep working. “But, uh, if you’re close to a good stopping point for the day, get there.”
She looked up. “Why’s that?”
He sent her a suggestive smile from the kitchen. “Tommy’s not coming ’til eight, so we’ve got a few hours. I’ll take care of putting this stuff away, but then I’m running a bubble bath in the Jacuzzi.”
On one hand, she really hated to stop working this early. She’d done so well resisting him this morning, and she’d had a great day writing, but she hadn’t reached her daily goal yet. On the other hand, though, her breasts ached and her pussy rippled at the thought of getting in a bathtub with Braden. “Like bubble baths, do you?” she teased.
“When they come complete with sexy girls.” He was unpacking canned goods from a brown paper bag.
“Oh, does yours have some of those in it already?”
He glanced up. “Only one. I call her snowflake. But I can round up some more if you’re interested in that type of experimentation.”
She let out a slightly startled laugh. “For your information, you don’t have time for more than one—I’m going to keep you busy enough on my own.”
Fifteen minutes later, Laura closed the file containing her novel and padded up the stairs and into the bedroom. But she wasn’t prepared for the staggering sight that met her gaze.
Braden sat on the edge of the bubbling, sudsy Jacuzzi, naked and gorgeous, cock erect, a glass of wine in his hand. Another rested on the tile enclosure next to him, and he’d even lit a couple of candles to glow in the shadowy light of the afternoon. She nearly lost her breath.
The corners of his mouth quirked into a sexy grin. “Come keep me busy, baby.”
Laura didn’t waste time—she was ready to get wet with Braden again. She pushed down her jogging pants, then shimmied from her cami and panties, aware of his eyes glimmering on her.
Once naked, she stepped carefully into the tub, kneeling down into the bubbles as the warm, gurgling water began to massage her body beneath the surface. Braden moved to join her, putting down his wine, until she said, “Stay where you are.”
He stilled in place and she positioned herself between his well-muscled legs, then ran one wet palm up the length of his massive cock. She followed the same path with her tongue and he hissed in his breath. After lowering a gentle kiss to the tip of his shaft, she smiled naughtily up at him. “Is this busy enough?”
He gave only a short nod, eyes dark on her. Then he whispered, “Suck me, honey.”
He didn’t have to ask twice, as Laura had quickly learned that taking Braden in her mouth was among her deepest pleasures. She lowered her lips over his hardness, as always amazed at the incredible way he filled her mouth. She loved the low moans echoing from his throat, loved his hand in her hair, raking through the tousled tresses since she’d forgotten to put it up in a clip, too anxious to join him.
“So good, baby,” he breathed over her.
When she eased up, letting his cock slip from her lips to peer up at him as she licked her way around the darkly engorged head, he said, “Trade places with me.”
As he lowered into the water, she stood, suds clinging to her skin when she sat up on the tile and spread her legs wide, no longer the slightest bit hesitant to offer herself.
“Take a drink of your wine and look out the window,” he told her, then leaned in to lick a soft path across her clit.
She sighed at the heavenly sensation, then sipped the wine. She glanced out the large window above the tub, wondering what he wanted her to see since the snow had stopped.
“Look down at the house through the trees,” he said, voice low.
Laura searched, finding the house nestled among the snow-covered pines, closer than she’d even realized another home was situated. And just as Braden dragged another long lick up her center—she spotted two people fucking in the window.
Just like they were, she realized, gasping at the sight.
Suddenly, she was a voyeur, too.
Chapter Eleven
&n
bsp; “My neighbors, Stan and Candy,” he said from between her legs. She studied the couple as they stood in profile right inside the wide, uncurtained window, Candy holding on to the back of a kitchen chair with both hands, naked, while Stan slammed into her from behind. Stan was classically handsome, light-haired, in his mid-forties. Candy looked closer to Laura’s age—a stacked brunette with large breasts that bounced with each thrust.
Braden French-kissed Laura’s clit as she watched what took place in the window, and the sensation spread through her with even more intensity than usual.
“Stan went to Vegas on business a few years back,” Braden said, blowing on her clit and forcing a shiver. “He came home married to Candy, and she’s been here ever since.” He dragged another hot lick up her pussy, making her moan as she continued observing the two strangers having sex.
“Showgirl?” she managed, her voice thready.
“Stripper,” Braden replied lowly. “Stan mentioned it over a beer with Tommy and me last summer.”
Laura had grown breathless. Down through the trees, Candy’s perfect body arched against her husband’s, her face wrenched with hot desire. She wore thigh-high fishnet stockings with black ruffled edges. “Do they do it in the window often?”
“Yeah, actually.” Braden’s voice came even lower now and a glance down revealed him studying her parted cunt. She watched him instead of Stan and Candy as he pushed two fingers inside her and lowered another kiss to her clit.
“Mmm,” she purred in response.
“Not sure if that’s by accident,” Braden went on, “or if maybe they want me to see. Of course, I’m not here all the time, but I guess they can tell when there’s an SUV—or, in this case, two—in the driveway.”
“And you watch them?” she asked, her heart beating harder and pulsing in her crotch where he now laved her. She looked back at the couple through the window as Stan’s hands rose from Candy’s hips to her plump breasts, squeezing, kneading.
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