by Lissa- Sugar
“Forget the executive chef thing. All I did was cook a couple of meals.”
“All you did was keep my guys from out-and-out mutiny.”
“I can’t possibly—”
“Yes. You can. I’m paying you what you’d have earned as an executive chef at the kind of place you thought this would be.”
“You don’t know that.”
Nick smiled. “Google knows everything.” His voice softened. “Please. Take the check.”
Lissa chewed on her bottom lip. He wondered if she knew how often she did that, or if she knew how it made him ache to soothe the tiny wound with a kiss. He wondered, too, if she knew how beautiful she looked, especially at this moment, her face flushed from the heat of the kitchen, her golden hair pulled up in the kind of knot that made a man want to take it down.
“Well…” She smiled. “Thank you. And now, if you’ll excuse me—”
“No more work tonight.”
“Oh, I have to! I promised the guys I’d leave some meals in the freezer and so far, all I’ve done is some lasagna and make a marinade for the mystery meat I told you about.”
“I’m the boss, Wilde, remember?”
“Well, I know. I mean, they know that. But—”
“The boss makes the rules. And rule number one is that the night is clear, the sky is full of stars, and you can’t leave Montana until you’ve seen a sky like this one.”
He was smiling.
And, oh God, he looked so handsome.
Big. Tall. Strong. And sexy, so sexy that she wanted to throw herself into his arms and ask him if they couldn’t please finish what they’d started last night, what she’d thought about all day, what she wanted, because if she couldn’t leave Montana without seeing the sky on a night like this, how could she leave it without a night spent in this man’s arms?
“Lissa?”
Lissa took a breath. Let it out. Then she whipped off the towel tied around her waist and gave him a dazzling smile.
“Let me get my jacket.”
“And your boots.”
“And my boots.”
“And your gloves.”
She laughed. “I promise, I won’t get hypothermia.”
“If you did, I’d have to save you. And the only sure way, with no hospital nearby, would be for us to get naked, wrap up in heavy blankets and hold each other until you stopped trembling.”
He’d meant to say it lightly, but it didn’t come out that way.
Fool, he told himself angrily, as he watched her struggle to come up with an answer, but what could a woman say to a man who’d already made such a hideous mess of things?
“So we’d both better hope that doesn’t happen,” he said gruffly.
If only, Lissa thought, but she smiled brightly, said, “Damn right,” and went quickly past him, to the rack in the hall where she’d left her boots and jacket.
* * *
He was right.
The sky was… There had to be a better word than spectacular, but if there was, it had yet to be coined.
They stood on the back porch, faces tilted to the sky, she inches in front of him, their breath puffing tiny clouds into the still night air.
“Oh,” Lissa whispered. What else could you say when you stared into an endless black sky shot with a million night fires?
“Yeah,” Nick said. “The night sky, especially after a storm, was the best thing about growing up here.”
“Only that?”
“The mountains,” he said, after a few seconds. “The Absaroka Wilderness. I used to hike it. Spring and fall, I’d camp overnight.”
“You didn’t like living on the Triple G?”
“I liked riding. Working with the horses. Checking out the line shacks. That kind of thing.”
She wanted to ask him more. They’d only known each other a couple of days, but she longed to know more about him. Not about Nick Gentry, movie star. She wanted to know about Nick Gentry, the man.
She knew better than to ask.
He was not someone who would share himself easily. And she understood that; she had learned that same kind of caution over the last couple of years.
“Duchess. Look!”
“What?”
“A shooting star. And another!”
“Where? I don’t see them.”
“There. See that bulge in the mountain? Man, there’s another!”
“This is what always happens! My brothers see shooting stars. My sisters see them. And I’m the idiot standing there saying, ‘Where?’”
“Lift your head a little. Now look to the right. Here. I’ll show you.”
Nick clasped her shoulders. Turned her a couple of inches. “There’s one now!”
“I don’t see it!”
“For heaven’s sake, woman!” He curved one arm around her waist and drew her back against his chest. “Follow where I’m pointing. Good. Now just give it a couple of seconds…”
Fire arced across the sky. Lissa gasped.
“Oh! Oh, how beautiful!” Another streak of light raced across the darkness. She laughed with delight. “Nick, this is wonderful!”
“Yes. It is.”
His voice was low and rough. Something in it made her heartbeat quicken. Slowly, she turned her head and looked up at him. His face was shadowed; all she could see with any clarity were his eyes.
They were dark and hot.
The silence of the night gathered them in.
Nick whispered her name. He watched her lips curve in a smile as old as time, a smile that said everything a man could want to hear.
He bent his head. Brushed his mouth over hers, once, twice, and she sighed, turned in his arms, caught the collar of his sheepskin jacket in her hands and lifted herself to him, sighed again as he held her closer and deepened the kiss.
“Please,” she whispered.
Please. The most wonderful word anyone had ever spoken to him.
Another shooting star blazed across the night sky as Nick took Lissa’s hand and led her into the dark house.
CHAPTER TEN
Nick’s bedroom was a shadowy oasis of ivory moon and black night.
He kissed her as they entered it, kissed her again as he closed the door. Brutus, who had followed them up the stairs, gave a plaintive woof.
“He’ll be fine,” Nick said softly. “It’s just that I’ve never closed him out of this room before.”
“Never?” Lissa said.
Nick shrugged off his jacket, unbuttoned hers and tossed them both aside.
“There’s been nobody in this room except Brutus and me.”
“Nobody?”
She was wearing a sweater with buttons over a cotton T-shirt. His hands shook a little as he undid the buttons, got rid of the top sweater, then drew the T-shirt over her head. He’d needed her help to do it last night; this time, he didn’t.
The fact registered on his brain.
Surely it was a good sign.
“Nobody,” he said, cupping her breasts in a pink lace bra that was, mercifully, like the white one, meaning that it, too, had a front clasp.
Lissa gave a little moan as his thumbs brushed over her nipples.
“All these months?” she whispered.
He nodded and undid the bra clasp. Her breasts tumbled into his waiting hands.
“All these months,” he said, and he bent his head and took first one dusty-rose nipple and then the other into the heat of his mouth.
She gasped; her head fell back and she dug her fingers into the thick silky hair at the nape of his neck.
“Do you like that?”
“Yes. Oh yes. The feel of your mouth…”
He cupped her breasts again, worked his fingers over her nipples as he kissed her, a long, deep kiss that had her clinging to him.
“And your hands,” she said, “oh, your hands…”
“Boots,” he commanded.
She toed them off.
He ran one hand down her spine, pressed his palm lightly a
gainst the base and brought her into contact with his erection. She gave a little gasp and shifted against him. Her hips arched; the simple action turned him harder than he already was, harder than he’d ever imagined a man could be.
A groan rose in his throat.
As much as he’d wanted her the evening before, tonight he wanted her even more.
Maybe it was because he knew her better now. Maybe it was because he liked what he knew.
Maybe it was both those things and more, maybe it was because he’d spent the entire night and most of the goddamned day thinking about her, about this, about how her skin would taste as he kissed her throat, how her hair would smell as it tickled his nose, how she would moan as he led her to the bed—limping, yes, but without the cane—sat down on the edge and positioned her between his parted thighs.
No way was he going to risk making an ass of himself this time.
Besides, this was better in every possible way.
She was his.
His to undress.
His to watch as he undid her jeans. As he unzipped them. As he eased them over her hips.
She had a perfect belly button. Small. Flat. Just right for kissing.
She made a soft, sweet sound as he kissed the tiny indentation, as he licked her flesh.
“Hold on to my shoulders,” he said, and he drew down her jeans, helped her step free of them.
She was his now. His to touch. To taste.
To possess.
He could feel the blood thrumming in his ears, feel his balls tightening in his scrotum. Everything in him wanted her. Now. Right now. No more waiting. No more hungering for her heat to surround him, but he wanted this to last, wanted to make up to her for last night.
“Nick,” she whispered.
He nipped her shoulder. Drew down her panties. She stepped free of them.
“Nick,” she whispered.
He loved the way she said his name. Loved that she was breathing hard. Loved the delicate scent of her arousal.
Loved that she was naked.
He cupped her breasts again. Ran his hands the length of her body, curved them around her hips. Drew her closer. Closer.
“Spread your legs for me, sweetheart,” he said.
His voice was thick. Raw. She said his name again. Sobbed it as he nuzzled her thighs apart and as soon as he put his mouth against her, she screamed.
It almost undid him.
He was at the edge. Clinging to it. His brain told him to slow down, that he wanted to make this last, but he couldn’t. Not anymore. All that mattered was being inside her.
Nick pulled his sweater over his head and dropped it on the floor. He toed off his boots, unzipped his jeans, tore off the rest of his clothes, fumbled open the night table drawer, felt for the small packets he prayed were there.
His fingers closed around one.
“Wait,” he said harshly, and he tore it open, freed the condom, rolled it on.
Then he reached for Lissa and she came down to him, to the bed, to his arms.
He kissed her.
She wound her arms around his neck and he tumbled her beneath him, lost in the wonder of her. The softness. The taste. The hot liquid brilliance of her desire burning against his hand as he cupped her.
She cried out against his mouth.
He couldn’t last much longer. He was a man who’d always prided himself on his control, in bed and out, but need for her, for this one woman, was roaring through him, obliterating everything but blind instinct.
He swept his hands under her backside. She sobbed his name, parted her thighs, arced toward him and he moved between them, rose on his knees…
Pain rocketed through his leg.
A cry burst from his throat. He bit it back, but it was too late. Lissa had heard it, and she froze beneath him.
“Nick?”
He shook his head, fought against the knife-sharp pain.
“Nick! Wait—”
“No!” he said. “Goddammit, no!” He clasped her hands, held them tightly in his. “We’re not going to stop—”
Lissa tugged her hands free, put one finger over his lips.
“Just lie back.”
Her voice was soft. Her lips were curved. He hesitated, and then he fell back. She rose above him, bent and kissed his mouth. Then, slowly, slowly enough to make him groan with ecstasy, she lowered herself on his rigid length.
“God,” he said thickly, “oh God…”
Lissa caught her breath.
He was big.
So big, so hard that for one breathless second, she wondered if she could take all of him inside her. But she could. Yes. Oh yes. She could.
Her head fell back. Her lashes drifted to her cheeks.
Oh, the slick, heavy feel of him! All that power. That strength.
His hands clasped her hips as she rode him.
He was claiming her. Consuming her. Taking her to the edge, the edge, the edge…
Lissa cried out. Sobbed Nick’s name.
“Come for me,” he said, “come for me, sweetheart,” and she felt herself sliding down the long, glorious path to release.
Lights exploded behind her closed eyelids. A long, wild cry of pleasure burst from her throat and as she came, he let go and gave himself up to the night, to the whirlwind.
To Lissa.
* * *
She lay in the hard, encircling curve of his arm, her face buried against his throat.
He gave her a long, lingering kiss. Then he told her he’d be right back.
He was true to his word. One quick trip to the adjoining bathroom and he was beside her again, taking her in his arms, holding her close.
His heartbeat was still slowing.
So was hers.
She sighed.
His arms tightened around her.
“That was,” she said softly, “it was—”
“It certainly was,” he said, and he felt her lips curve in a smile against his shoulder.
He rolled onto his side. Her eyes were bright; her hair was a nimbus of gold against the pillows. She was, without question, the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
“What?” she said.
He smiled and toyed with a strand of her hair. “What what?”
She gave him a gentle poke. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking what a fool I was last night.”
“No. You weren’t. You were upset.”
“I was an asshole.”
Her laugh was soft and delicious.
“OK. But you were an upset asshole.”
Nick grinned. “You didn’t have to agree with me, Wilde.”
“Of course I did, Gentry.” She touched the tip of her finger to his mouth. “I’m glad you were smarter tonight.”
“Yeah. Me, too.”
“Mmm,” she said, and yawned.
“My very thought,” he said, reaching for the duvet and drawing it up over them.
Seconds later, they were asleep.
* * *
She came awake to the feel of his mouth on the nape of her neck, the feel of his hand on her breast.
They were lying on their sides, he behind her, his swollen penis pressing at the juncture of her thighs.
Her breath caught as her nipple pearled against his palm. Desire raced like electric current from her breasts to her belly.
She turned toward him and moved her hips against his.
“Wait,” he said softly. “Let me get a condom…”
“I’m on the pill.”
Had a man ever heard more welcome words? He shifted his weight. Clasped her thigh. Raised it, just a little. Just enough, she thought, gasping as the head of his engorged penis teased her hot flesh.
No. Not enough.
He was teasing her and she hated him for it, adored him for it; she was coming apart, coming apart.
“Easy,” he said softly. “There’s no hurry. I want to feel you taking me in. Like that.” He shuddered. “Exactly like that.”
> He slid into her.
She cried out.
He slid deeper. Deeper. Drew her closer and she sobbed his name.
The pleasure was almost too much. It was more than pleasure, it was something new, something that made her begin to weep as he surged forward.
“Nick,” she pleaded, “Nick, now. Please, now! I can’t…”
He felt her begin to convulse around him.
“Yes,” he growled, and he closed his eyes and took her with him to paradise.
* * *
When she woke again, the sun was just beginning to light the mountains beyond the windows.
Nick was sitting on the bed next to her, dressed in a faded blue denim shirt, the sleeves rolled to the elbows, and equally faded jeans.
His hair was damp; his jaw was dark with stubble. He was, in other words, altogether gorgeous, and her heart turned over at the sight of him.
“Hi,” he said softly, smiling as he took her hand and brought it to his lips.
Lissa smiled, too. “Hi, yourself.”
He bent forward and brushed his mouth over hers. She sighed and his lips moved against hers, parted hers for the stroke of his tongue.
She smiled.
“Mmm,” she said. “Coffee with cream.”
“Clever woman.” Another kiss. “Want some?”
“That would be lovely.”
“You’ll have to pay the price.”
Lissa fluttered her lashes. “You drive a hard bargain.”
Nick grinned, clasped her hand, kissed the palm and folded her fingers over the kiss.
“I hope so.”
She laughed. “OK. Let go and I’ll get up, shower, get dressed—”
“You don’t have to move an inch. I brought a cup for you.”
“Really?”
He gave her a quick kiss, reached behind him and produced a steaming mug.
“Coffee. Light. Two sugars.”
“Perfect! How did you know?”
“Magic.”
Lissa sat up and reached for the mug. Nick shook his head.
“Not yet,” he said softly.
“You promised!”
“I said you’d have to pay the price.” His gaze dropped to her breasts; the duvet had fallen to her lap, exposing them to his eyes. “And now I know what that’s going to be.”
She felt heat flood her body.
“Nick,” she whispered.
He put the coffee on the table and cupped her breasts in his hands. Lowered his head. Kissed the lush slopes. Kissed her nipples. Drew one into the heat of his mouth as he caressed the other between his thumb and forefinger.