He moaned at her acquiescence, then changed how he used his fingers. Her anal opening was wet with her own juices now, and he began turning his fingers in circular motions, as if trying to widen her, make her even more ready. “God . . . oh God,” she heard herself moan.
When his fingers left her, she took a deep breath.
“Relax for me, baby,” he said. “Relax and want me.”
Yes, I do. So much. She was too drained and excited to say it, but she wanted to give him that last piece of her virginity now more than she wanted to breathe.
The tip of his cock felt hard yet moist against her, and she knew a deep, primal yearning to accept it there, in that impossibly tiny opening. He pushed, and she thought the head began to enter. She heard an “unh” escape her.
Behind her, his breath grew heavy, his hands tightening on her waist. She bit her lower lip as he delivered another gentle thrust, then began to rock rhythmically against her. She rocked back, trying to meet him, take him, the sensitive fissure of her anus hungry for him.
The opening stretched, and a soft burst of pain came with it. She cried out but then realized just as quickly that he’d found entry and his cock was sliding, sliding, slowly into her ass.
“Oh my God,” she heard herself whisper as the most bizarre sense of fullness she’d ever experienced assaulted her. It was as if he’d found a new part of her body that she’d never known existed.
“So tight,” he said, but his voice sounded weak now, too, as weak as she felt. “And you’re so amazing, baby. So fucking amazing.”
“I can’t believe . . . you’re in me there.”
His hands massaged her hips and the cheeks of her ass. “I am, honey. Oh God, I am.”
And then he began to move—slow, small, light thrusts clearly designed not to hurt her. She met them, arching higher, eyes shut, lost in an entirely new world of strange, heady pleasure that stretched through every inch of her body from head to toe, all-consuming.
And she thought she’d absorbed just about as much sensation as she could when something cool pressed between her thighs in front, and as it began to buzz she realized it was the vibrator. She hadn’t even seen it on the quilt with them in the dim lighting, but apparently Braden had thought they might want it and was now reaching around to glide the toy cock back and forth in her slit while he fucked her ass.
The arc of pleasure was immediate—the orgasm coming mere seconds later, bursting through her with all the power of an exploding star. “Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!” She heard herself practically howling with the intensity of it, felt almost disconnected from her body. At some point, she realized she was no longer supporting herself on her hands but had collapsed, slumping down in front, resting her head on the quilt.
Behind her, Braden still fucked her ass, but every tight stroke came with a hot, masculine moan—until he said, “I’m gonna come in your ass, honey,” and then let out an enormous groan as he plunged deeper, harder, again, again, then crumpled atop her, spent.
After falling asleep on the quilt for a while, Laura felt Braden nudge her awake, take her hand, and lead her to the shower. They cleaned up, then fell naked into bed together, where they wordlessly made love again, Laura on top for a while, then Braden, lifting her ankles to his shoulders as he drove relentlessly into her welcoming cunt.
Three more times through the night they fucked, until morning came and they realized they’d barely slept. “You’ll sleep on the plane,” he said gently, kissing her forehead.
After a quick breakfast of bagels and coffee, they returned upstairs so Laura could dress and finish packing. Braden came up behind her to tuck the penis-shaped vibrator into her suitcase. She looked up at him, surprised. “I’m supposed to send this through the X-ray machine at the airport?” It was a carry-on.
He grinned, winked. “I’m sure it’s not the first one they’ve ever seen. Be bold, snowflake.” And that easily, she decided she would be. It was a vibrator, not a machete—she could travel with it through the airport if she damn well pleased. “And I want you to use it,” he said, leaning close, “and think of me.”
“I will,” she said on a whisper, without hesitation.
“Good. That’ll give me some nice fantasies.”
They stood in the bedroom, staring into each other’s eyes, and Laura felt like there was so much more to say—but she had no idea what.
Finally, she spoke softly. “Last night was . . . well, there are no words. I’m glad you took that last little piece of me.”
“I’m glad you gave it to me.”
She sighed, said, “Well . . . I should go,” and reached to zip her bag.
But he grabbed on to her wrist so that she looked up at him. “Not just last night—this whole time, Laura, has been . . . unforgettable.”
She nodded, and knew she needed to leave quickly before she burst into tears and asked him to love her forever and then had her heart smashed to bits when he looked horrified. “I should go,” she said again.
Braden wheeled her suitcase to the stairs, then carried it down to the foyer. He wore flannel pants, thick socks, and a gray thermal pullover but said, “I’ll take this out for you.”
She was putting on her coat and looked up to reply. “No, I can get it. You don’t even have shoes on.” When he started to protest, she lightened the mood. “I have to get used to toting around my vibrator without you, don’t I?”
The corners of his mouth quirked up slightly, his eyes smiling. “Yeah,” he said softly, “I guess you do.”
They stepped out onto the porch and he lifted his hands to her face. She looked up at him as the cold air chilled her—and fell in love all over again with his deep, expressive eyes and the dark stubble on his cheeks. He kissed her, slow, soft, letting his mouth linger on hers. It sent skitters of pleasure all through her—as much as the first kiss from him had nearly a week ago.
“Bye, snowflake.”
“Bye,” she said and hoped to hell he couldn’t tell she was close to tears. She quickly wheeled her bag down the walk over a covering of fresh-fallen snow and to the back of her rented SUV.
“Drive safe,” he called as she opened the door to climb inside.
She only waved. Shut the door. Started the engine. And backed up the long driveway, aware that he still stood on the porch watching her go.
And as she backed out onto the road and put the car in drive, a tear descended her cheek as the stark truth hit her.
It was over. Just like that. No more kisses. No more sex. No more cuddling or moaning, or breakfast with him, or dinner. No more snowflake.
Chapter Eighteen
Laura sat at her desk in her apartment in Seattle, putting the finishing touches on the book. Edna had been charged with murder, attempted arson, and numerous counts of theft. And Sloane was preparing to depart back to his P.I. business in L.A.—but not before he was lauded for single-handedly solving a murder while simultaneously putting out a fire. Of course, Riley got no credit for her work on the case—the local police chief giving her nothing more than a bit of halfhearted recognition for “detaining the culprit on the instructions of Sloane Bennett.”
But for once, Riley wasn’t all that upset over the lack of respect for her detective skills. Not only was she used to it, but her heart was already occupied with another sorrow—having to say good-bye to her lover, Sloane.
Riley looked up when the doorbell rang. Maybe it was a reporter, coming to interview her about her part in Edna’s apprehension! But no, the Gazette had spent all its coverage on Sloane, touting him as “the mysterious private investigator from California who solved a local murder completely on his own!” Or maybe, she thought, still holding out hope for something good, it was her boss, Mr. Kelsey, coming to tell her he was finally ready to promote her from secretary to private eye. Yet, again, no—nothing had happened to change Kelsey’s poor opinion of her investigative abilities.
Ah well, she’d been thwarted once more, but there would be other mysteries to solv
e, and one of these days, Riley was going to get the recognition—and the job—she deserved.
Sighing, she pushed to her feet and opened the door—shocked to find Sloane standing on the other side, looking as dark and handsome as ever. He held out a pink rose.
She bit her lip, touched that he’d remembered the day in the garden when she’d mentioned it was her favorite flower. Reaching out to accept the rose, she raised it to her nose to breathe in the sweet fragrance, then smiled up into his eyes.
“It’s cut from the secret garden,” he said.
“It’s beautiful. Thank you.”
Sloane took her free hand in his, lifting it to his mouth for a gentle, lingering kiss. “I know the garden turned out not to be ours alone, Riley, but when we were there, it felt like it belonged only to us.”
She nodded, a bit numb and trying not to cry. She knew this was it, that he was leaving, even before he leaned in to kiss her forehead, then her lips, and said, “Good-bye, Riley Wainscott. I won’t forget you.”
Riley stood at the door, peering blankly out at the stone path and lush green lawn long after Sloane had walked away. She girded herself with what Aunt Mimsey had taught her: We all have desires we can’t push down—but life goes on.
Sloane had opened Riley to parts of herself she’d never known. And he’d made her a better detective, too. Her heart was a little broken right now, but life would go on. And she’d be a happier, more complete person for having known him.
Laura sighed, having written the last words of the book she’d decided to call Dirty Little Secrets. The title had struck her on the plane, and it seemed perfect. The book was filled with secrets—Aunt Mimsey’s, Edna’s, her own with Sloane, and even the Dorchesters had their secret garden.
It also seemed the perfect title to sum up her memories of what had happened on the mountain. She’d told Monica she’d slept with her cousin, but she’d given her friend none of the naughty details—not about the webcam or about Tommy, not about every other new experience Braden had opened to her, and she never would. Those secrets would belong to Laura alone. Well, and Braden, too, of course.
She’d handled their good-bye like a pro—a few tender kisses at the door, and out she’d gone, a brave new woman, ready to face the world now changed and emboldened because of him. And she’d remained strong since then—but also a little torn inside, if she was honest with herself.
A sensual exhilaration still echoed through her when she remembered the things she’d shared with him—Braden had given her ultimate thrills, and he hadn’t judged her for her decisions; he’d truly wanted only to give her pleasure. She knew she would cherish the memories they’d created in the mountainside house together for the rest of her life, even if they were so outside her normal world that they almost seemed dreamy and unreal now.
But at the same time, she couldn’t deny the sadness still lurking inside her from missing him. Missing the intimacy they’d shared, and even just his company. She feared she’d never experience that much intimacy with a man again. No other guy could ever open her up like that, get to those parts of her, make her so comfortable with things that had started out seeming so forbidden. How on earth did a girl just say good-bye to that kind of trust, that kind of sharing?
Hard to believe, she thought, still staring at her computer screen, that it had all started with a secret camera, and the man behind it. One more dirty little secret, she thought with a melancholy sigh.
Two weeks after turning in the book, Laura sat down at her computer in her snowflake-print flannel pajamas and lowered her coffee mug to the coaster on her desk. After a brief glance out the window at the morning quiet of her Capitol Hill neighborhood, she hit the button to retrieve her mail. She clicked to open one from her editor, Karen, sporting the subject line: DIRTY LITTLE SECRETS INDEED!
Love it! Love Sloane! About time Riley had a real love life! I feel as if you’ve tapped into a whole new part of Riley’s personality. Will we see Sloane again in the next book? Karen
Laura sat before her computer, stunned. She couldn’t have been more thrilled with her editor’s response to a book she’d truly fallen in love with as she’d written it—but her editor wanted Sloane back in Riley’s life? She hadn’t even considered such a move. And though she immediately understood the appeal of such an idea, she was more than a little reluctant to give Sloane a recurring role in Riley’s stories. She’d envisioned the dark stranger as someone Riley would simply remember fondly and think of wistfully. And the truth was, given that Braden had been the character’s inspiration, Laura feared it would just be plain painful to keep writing about him.
Taking a deep breath, she hit reply.
Karen—so glad you like the book! I’m really proud of it and, like you, feel I know Riley even better than I did before writing it. About Sloane, I’m not sure. I had envisioned Riley being changed by their affair—perhaps more outgoing, more sexually confident, and more determined than ever to prove herself—but I hadn’t considered bringing him back in the future. Let me mull it over. Laura
She sighed at having been forced to think about Braden this early in the morning. Not even 8 A.M., and there he was, on the brain, where he would likely stay all day now. She sometimes thought he filled her thoughts as much as he had when she’d been at the house in Vail. The only difference was, instead of being able to fuck him at night, she only lay down in her bed and remembered. Every touch. Every penetration. Every spine-tingling, soul-stirring kiss.
The next e-mail she opened was from Monica.
Well? Are you going out with the Starbucks dude?
Laura actually shivered. A cute guy who hung at the Starbucks a few blocks away had asked her out last week, and she hadn’t exactly given him an answer, even as Monica had stood elbowing her and telling the guy how much Laura loved Mexican food.
A couple of months ago, she would have definitely accepted the invitation. He was good-looking, had a great smile, and whatever he did for a living, it required wearing a well-cut suit and tie. But for some reason she hadn’t been able to put her finger on, she’d hesitated, telling him she’d have to get back to him. Now, having thought about it, she could put her finger on what the problem was—she didn’t feel especially comfortable with the idea of anyone touching her but Braden. And since dating customarily led to touching, it just seemed like a bad idea.
She e-mailed Monica back.
I don’t think so.
The next thing she knew, an IM box popped up from her friend.
SEXYPSYCHIATRIST: Are you out of your freaking mind? He’s a total hottie.
RILEY: I’m just . . . not into dating anyone right now.
SEXYPSYCHIATRIST: Oh God. Please don’t tell me you’re hung up on my cousin.
Laura sighed. Then lied. RILEY: It’s not that. It’s just that I need a break from guys. First there was David. Then Braden. I’m not ready for another big thing just yet.
SEXY PSYCHIATRIST: Hmm, let’s see. You’d broken up with David at least a month before Braden came along. And it’s been a few weeks since you came home from Vail. And I’m not sure a date qualifies as a “big thing.”
Whereas Laura would normally just continue to argue, she instead stopped to consider Monica’s words. She’d hoped her affair with Braden would make her bolder, more outgoing—not less so. And yet, she was turning Mr. Starbucks down for no good reason. And Monica was right—he was a hottie. Not as hot as Braden, certainly, but still a very handsome guy. And unlike Braden, she did want to marry someday, and for all she knew, Mr. Starbucks would turn out to be her soul mate.
RILEY: Okay, you talked me into it.
The screen stayed blank for longer than usual before Monica’s answer popped up. SEXY PSYCHIATRIST: Okay, now I’m scared. Since when do you see reason?
RILEY: Since now. The next time I see the coffee hottie, I’ll tell him yes.
SEXY PSYCHIATRIST: Wow! That’s my girl.
She still didn’t really want to tell him yes, deep down inside
. But she doubted Braden was sitting around pining over her—so maybe it was time to really be Riley. Riley wasn’t going to let Sloane’s departure hold her back—she was going to let their affair change her for the better. Laura felt a fresh determination to do the same thing, her heart be damned.
Braden opened his eyes—fresh from a nice, naughty dream—and turned in bed expecting to find Laura beside him.
But the space next to him was empty. Shit—he wasn’t in Colorado anymore. Hadn’t been for weeks, in fact. Beyond his large bedroom window, he caught a glimpse of the deck that overlooked the Pacific, then heard the call of a seagull.
He couldn’t believe he was still missing her. He’d been sure that would fade after he came home to L.A. And then he’d been sure it would go away once he got back involved in his work. But concentration had become difficult ever since his hot vacation with Laura in the mountains.
Don’t freak out about it, man. When he looked at it logically, there were reasons. Laura was the only woman he’d ever done such extreme things with. And the only woman he’d ever spent longer than a weekend with in one stretch. So it made sense that he’d grown accustomed to seeing her face beside his in bed. It made sense that he missed her body. It made sense that he missed her smile.
So it was a month later and he found himself in the same rut Tommy had been in back in Vail. He’d talked to Tommy just yesterday, and his buddy sounded fine now—he was dating again. “A cute girl from over in Avon who works at the Christie Lodge, and damn, dude, she looks hot in her little pink ski pants,” he’d said. He’d gone on to explain that it was nothing serious, but that he thought he was done with one-night stands. “Just getting too old for it, I guess.”
Braden hadn’t asked what that meant, but now he wondered if this was the first sign of a guy getting ready to settle down, a notion that made his stomach pinch. Not that he begrudged his friend happiness, but if Tommy got married at some point, it would change things—frankly, it would make Braden a little less likely to try to get away to Vail several times a year. He’d never thought of the Vail house as lonely, but after Laura’s departure it had seemed that way. If he didn’t even have Tommy to hang with whenever he wanted, it would definitely feel lonely.
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