No pressure.
“You’re not going to sleep with him,” I mumble to myself, pushing through the French doors leading into the main house. “You’re going to take this slow. See what happens.”
The pep talk doesn’t help. I’m still wired and twitchy, my nerves frayed.
The bar in the dining room is hopping—murmurs, laughter, and the clink of glasses hit my ears—but the living room is empty, thank goodness. I turn right, and then left, tiptoeing through shadowed halls until I reach Malcolm’s room.
Hunter’s words run through my head as I knock on the door.
Touch him, but pretend you don’t care. Talk slowly, eat slowly, seduce him with your mouth. Enhance your scent.
Easy.
I got this.
“Malcolm?” I call out, my throat suddenly parched. I knock again. “It’s Snow.”
No pressure, no pressure, no pressure.
I wish my brain would tell my heart to stop freaking the fuck out.
I don’t plan on doing what my stepmother suggested and seduce him to take his money. I’m not a gold digger. There’s got to be another way to save the estate. I’m simply going to enjoy his company tonight. Get to know him and let him get to know me. So what if I play up my assets a little?
“Come on in,” he calls out. “It’s open.”
His room is bright and warm, lit by the chandelier overhead and a roaring fire in the hearth. He’s kneeling in front of it, throwing a piece of kindling onto the flames, his Viking-blond hair brushing his shoulders. When I step inside, he glances at me from his crouched position, burning me through with heavenly blue eyes. In the flickering light of the fire, his skin appears gold and even, and I’m having trouble catching my breath.
“Honestly didn’t think you’d show up tonight,” he says, turning his attention back to the fire. “I’m glad you did. Thanks for having the estate staff fix my problem. No room swap needed.”
Problem?
His eyebrows arch toward his hairline as he hitches his thumb over his shoulder. “My—”
“Oh, right.” Strolling around the room, I glance at the unmade four-poster bed in the corner and the fruit tray on the small table. “Your bathroom. It’s nothing.”
Truth be told, it really was nothing. Not my doing at all. I’d been so fixated on getting my fill of Hunter that I completely forgot to report Malcolm’s toilet issue. Customer service must’ve received his message and sent someone up to repair it.
“Did you bring the drinks?” he asks.
I feel my face scrunch. “What drinks?”
He stands slowly, brushing his hands together as if to warm them. “You said you’d bring up a shot.”
“Oh. I did, didn’t I.”
Have I forgotten absolutely everything? The bathroom issue, the drinks. Hunter must’ve officially screwed me stupid.
Removing the rose from his lapel, he replaces the pin in the stem and sets it on the stone mantel. “Well, it’s your lucky day.”
Oh, I hope so.
“I have a stash of my own,” he goes on, his voice low and deep. And then he pours two glasses, half full. “Hope you like Crown.”
“Only ones covered in diamonds,” I tease.
But he doesn’t laugh. Instead, he shoots me a sideways glance and drops ice into the glasses before handing one over. Hunter said not to drink, but why would I turn down Malcolm’s offer if he’s already poured a glass. That’d be rude, wouldn’t it?
“I’ve always liked this room,” I say to break the silence and tip back my glass to take a drink. But the ice sticks, and as it dislodges, an ice avalanche hits my lips, sloshing liquor all over my face. “Oh my God.” I cover my mouth with my hand, wiping away the wetness. “I’m so sorry. I’m such a slob.”
“Don’t worry about it. Here, let me.” Sliding a napkin from the table, he dabs my chin gently and meets my eyes. Tenderness sparks in the depths of his irises, and if it’s possible to see into someone’s soul, I’m glimpsing his. “I hate it when ice shifts that way. Seems to happen to me almost every time.”
I grin sheepishly. He can’t mean that. He’s only saying it to make me feel better. Again, I’m out of sorts, and he’s the sophisticated one helping me with something I should be able to figure out myself.
“You know,” I say, breaking eye contact to walk toward the lounge area in front of the fire, “I helped decorate this place before my father passed away. These chairs were my favorite picks.” They’re wing-backed and oversized and suit the space perfectly. I perch on the edge of one and nurse what’s left of my drink. “I haven’t been in this room in a while. I almost forgot how comfortable they were.”
“I didn’t send my condolences when he died,” Malcolm says, toeing off his shoes and kicking them beneath the table. “My family business was tied up in New York at the time. I’m sorry for your loss. Forgive me, but how long has it been?”
“Five years, six months, and two days. Not that I’m counting.”
“Can’t believe the time has passed so fast.” He loosens the tie at his neck, jerking one way and then the other. “I lost my mother about a year after that. It’s always a shock, isn’t it? Even though we knew she had cancer, and we had plenty of time to say good-bye, there’s nothing that can prepare you for the hole a parent leaves behind after they’re gone.”
Absolute truth.
There’s nothing I can say because he just said it all. I miss my father more and more each day and wish he could be here with me now. He’d know what to do, how to save the estate. But I can’t make sense of anything, and helplessness burns a big fat hole in my heart. As tears threaten to fall, I stroke my glass, swirl the liquid around, and gaze at the fire crackling beside me. Out of nowhere, an image of Hunter streams through my mind. If he were here, he’d wrap me up and make me feel safe and warm in front of the fire. If he were here now—
“Penny for your thoughts?” Malcolm says from the chair directly in front of me.
And I have no idea how he got there. I didn’t even see him sit down.
He’s taken off his tie and unbuttoned his shirt, leaving it to fall open at his chest. He’s wearing a white cotton T-shirt beneath, and the casual look is amazing on him. He’s leaning far back, one ankle kicked up on the opposite knee. He’s staring at me, through me, undressing me with his eyes.
I quiver beneath the weight of his stare, painfully aware that precious seconds are passing me by and I’m not taking advantage of this opportunity. We’ve gotten through the introductions and formalities, and there’s not going to be a better time to put Hunter’s lessons to good use.
Touch him, but pretend you don’t care.
“I’m thinking about you, actually.” Nerves are bunching and balling in the pit of my stomach as I lean forward and reach out for him, aiming for his leg. At the last minute, my mind jolts, jumps, and freezes. I shouldn’t be going for his leg, but his knee. No, his ankle. I should stop.
Oh God, I’ve taken too long. My hand is hanging in midair.
I’m pointing at his black sock.
Shoot me now.
“Those are nice.” Mortified, I flick his toe. Blood rushes to my cheeks, as I down my drink in three heavy gulps. I have to save this so I don’t look like an idiot with a sock fetish. So I say the first thing that streams through my mind. “Armani?”
“Can’t remember, but it’s not important.” He shrugs as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. “What were you thinking about me? More than the brand of my socks, I hope.”
“I was wondering how you got into the jewelry business,” I lie.
He leans over, resting his elbows on his knees, a model of strength and sex appeal. He’d be magnificent as a wolf. Regal and stout, with flowing golden hair, blazing blue eyes…
“My father would buy my mother a piece of jewelry every year for their anniversary. He would spend days, weeks, searching for the right one.” After finishing his drink, he reaches for the fruit plate on the coffee table bet
ween us and snacks on a few grapes. “He wanted something flawless, sparkling, and lovely, something special that would remind him of his love for her.”
I’m lost in his story, captivated by his words.
But I can’t forget why I’m here.
Seduce him with your mouth.
“Sounds like they were perfect for one another.” Absentmindedly, I snatch a banana from the tray and peel back the skin. Talk slowly. “So your father opened the store to supply quality jewelry to men who loved their women as much as he loved her?”
“Not exactly.”
He’s watching my mouth, eyeing it carefully. The slow talk must’ve worked. Now to go in for the kill.
Eat slowly.
As he stares, unflinching, I finish peeling the banana and raise it to my mouth. I close my lips around the fruit but bite off too large a piece. My cheeks are full, stuffed. I shift the mouthful from side to side, but it’s impossible to keep my lips closed.
“So sorry,” I mumble, covering my mouth with my hand. “I’m done.”
As I try to set the banana down, it breaks off, right through the center of the stalk. A big ole chunk of fruit bounces off my lap before hitting the floor.
Sexiness fail.
“Ermahgerd,” I mumble, cheeks stretched to the max.
What am I doing? Why couldn’t I have just taken a normal bite like everyone else?
I swallow hard as Malcolm bends to pick up my mess. “It’s fine. Won’t leave a stain on the rug or anything so I wouldn’t worry about it. Even if it did, I hear they have a great staff at the estate who can take care of just about anything.”
Why can’t there be a reset button on tonight? Well, I wouldn’t want to go back and change all of it—not any of the parts featuring Hunter—but this whole section with Malcolm and the fruit would need to go.
I’d grin back at him, but those stringy things from the banana are probably lodged in my teeth. This is so not the way I’d envisioned this happening. Malcolm is being kind and gracious, and I really do like him more now than I did before. But I’m not in his league. The chasm between us is so apparent, it hurts. He’s smooth and handsome as hell, preferring women who are total bombshells. And I’m the girl who forgets to bring up a drink to his room, sloshes ice down her dress, drops food on the floor, and bites off more than she can chew.
My lungs are tight, my skin crawling. I want to claw my way out of here and never look back.
Finishing off the mouthful, I swipe my tongue over my teeth as I stand and brush my hands down my gown. “Malcolm, thank you for the drink and the banana, and for letting me come to your room tonight. I’ll let myself out.”
I can’t be sure, but as I’m bolting down the hall, smacking myself in the forehead, I swear someone is calling out my name.
Chapter Six
Snow
Even in the heart of the forest, rain penetrates the tree cover, wetting my exposed face, neck, and shoulders, and frizzing my hair. Leaves lift from branches as the wind picks up, dragging familiar scents to my nose.
I’ve almost reached his lodge.
The wind shifts, bringing with it a woodsy, masculine scent, mixed with hints of Guinness. There’s only one person who smells that way.
Hunter.
“Hey, you,” he says from behind me. “How’d it go?”
“Terrible.” I spin, lifting my arms from my sides. “He doesn’t want me.”
His smile falls as light streams of rain trickle down his face. “Is that what he said?”
“No. But I told him I’d bring drinks to his room tonight, and I forgot, so I went empty-handed. And then when he offered me Crown, I drank, even when you said I shouldn’t.”
“And that’s what makes you think he doesn’t want you? Because you drank his liquor instead of bringing your own?”
“No. You’re not getting it.” I need to walk, to get the blood pumping through my veins again, to feel the wind on my face and the rain on my hands. Trudging toward his lodge, I weave around trees and over logs. I can feel his presence behind me, as I always do when he’s near. “You told me to touch him, so I did, and that didn’t work, either.”
“I’m sure you’re freaking out about nothing. I don’t see how he could not want you, Snow.” His voice cuts through the night as thunder rumbles somewhere in the distance. “Where’d you touch him? His hand? His chest?”
“I can’t tell you. I’m too mortified.”
“Don’t tell me you touched his big throbby.”
“Hunter,” I scold, and nearly trip over a lifted root. “That’s disgusting. I did not touch his big throbbing anything.”
“Then what? Come on. It can’t be that bad.”
Huffing, I blow wet strands of hair out of my eyes. “I pinched his foot.”
He snorts into a laugh. I haul around, swinging for him, but miss as he ducks out of the way.
“I told you I was going to screw this up,” I say, and then I groan, covering my face with my hands. “I can’t do this. I like him, Hunter, and he thinks I’m—”
“Gorgeous,” he interrupts. And then his hands are coiled around my wrists, and he’s dragging my hands back to my sides. “He’s bound to see it sooner or later. Everyone does.”
I kink my neck to the side and narrow my eyes at him. “Don’t tease me, Hunter. After a night like I’ve had, I really don’t need it.”
On a night like tonight, when my former best friend screws my brains out and the guy I really like won’t give me the time of day, the last thing I need is to be teased about something ridiculous.
“I wouldn’t dare.” He puts up his hands in mock surrender, and it only makes me want to punch him more. “I didn’t mean to laugh. But his foot? What made you decide to focus on that…tiny, non-throbbing body part?”
I bite back my smirk. “I have no idea. Like I said, I was drinking—”
“Reason one hundred why you shouldn’t.”
“Right, I know, I didn’t listen. I was drinking and nervous and overthinking, and I reached out but changed my mind at the last second. My thoughts were tangled up, and I didn’t know what to do so I pinched his toe.”
Lightning splits the sky overhead, and the rain pours down. On the wind, the sounds of laughter and bottles clinking together dance through my ears. We’re close to the lodge—Hunter’s friends must be having the time of their lives.
“What about everything else?” Hunter asks, keeping pace behind me, his step behind mine. “Did you remember the other things I said?”
“Oh yeah, I remembered all right.” I step over a log, using the hand Hunter extends as support. His grip is firm, his hand calloused, but I keenly remember the magic they can perform on a trembling body. I repress a shudder as I say, “But I couldn’t do anything right. I didn’t even get to finish, so that whole thing about enhancing my scent went out the window.”
“There’s no need for that anyway,” he says too quickly. “You smell like summer rain. I caught your scent the moment you stepped off the estate.”
My steps slow as he moves alongside me. “You haven’t heard the worst of it.”
“Go on then.”
As the rain picks up, we come upon some kind of clearing where the full moon sits directly overhead and the trees form a perfect ring around the grassy center. Hunter stands in the middle, staring up at the moon, his eyes closed as if he’s channeling its shifting energy.
“I’m listening,” he goes on.
But I’m frozen at the sight of him. Rain soaks his clothes, making the fabric cling to his muscles as they twitch and flex. Silver streams of moonlight illuminate the hard angles of his face. His mouth is parted slightly, his lips falling open, plush and soft.
Why can’t he have dreams of staying at the White Estate longer than a weekend? His business pulls him around the world, and I’m seriously rooted here, where I was born and raised. There’s no way that would work long-term. More than that, why can’t he want me beyond the physical? He’s not rich, s
o my stepmother would hate the idea of us being together—what good is he if he can’t save the estate, she’d argue—but we’d have passion. Night after night. Day after day. Doesn’t that count for something?
No. I chastise myself for even thinking it. I don’t want to be used for physical pleasure only, and that’s all he’s willing to offer. And even then it’s only for the weekend. He’s leaving after this. It’ll probably be another five years before I see him again.
“Snow,” he presses, finally lowering his gaze to meet mine, “what happened?”
“I drooled ice down my chin and took too big of a bite of banana and—”
“If you had a banana,” he says, half laughing, “I’m sure you were fine.”
I shake my head. “I don’t think so.”
“The way a woman holds and eats a banana makes a guy think of the way she’d hold and suck his dick.” He nods matter-of-factly. “Believe me, it’s a turn-on.”
“Ha!” I blurt, holding my fist up to my mouth. “Instead of massaging the fruit, I gripped it in my fist, and rather than sucking, I bit off the tip and broke it off at the halfway point. How’s that for sexy?”
He coils his arms around my waist and bends me into him. “You can grip me however you want, whenever you want.”
“That’s not true.” My voice goes dark as his erection presses against my stomach. “Because after I’ve somehow convinced Malcolm Taylor that I’m the woman of his dreams, my lessons with you will be over. You’ll be off in Iceland, taking care of business, and I won’t be able to touch you at all.”
“But you’re here now,” he says, tangling his fingers in my hair.
Closing my eyes, I shake my head slowly. Because I want more of this feeling zinging through me, more butterflies, and more rain to cool my burning flesh. Why can’t things go this smoothly with other guys? Ones who are staying with the pack?
“You’re not with Malcolm at this moment.” His lips brush my cheek. “What happens tonight doesn’t have to change anything tomorrow when you go back to him.”
Another kiss on my cheek, closer to my lips.
Snow's Seduction (A Snow White Werewolf Tale) Page 5