by Addison Fox
He always had.
Ever since that day when he’d discovered the truth about his father, he’d believed that a life with a partner would eventually lead him down the same path of deceit, omission and half-truths to whomever he shared his life with.
All bathed in the lies he’d tell himself about being a good person, a good father and a good husband, albeit one who simply found an outlet elsewhere from time to time.
An image of Sloan filled his mind’s eye again, first the curve of her cheek bathed in the glow from the candle between them at dinner. Then the impish spirit she showed in dealing with Victoria, never allowing the woman the upper hand, despite the awkwardness of the interruption. The strength she’d shown at the airport as they realized the extent of the tragedy.
She’d be a woman a man could share his life with and still never discover all her facets.
And that was the crux of it, really.
How did someone who’d spent their adult life focused on dodging any form of commitment let go of that conviction? That certainty?
That absolute, unshakeable belief that vows and obligations simply weren’t for him.
The heat of the sauna washed over him, but Mick felt none of it. The harsh cold he’d spent most of the day in had seeped into his bones and nothing—not the bottle of Jack Daniel’s Avery had thrust into his hand or the warmth of the room—could chase it away.
Neither could they chase away the cold reality of death. It had interrupted all their lives and offered a dour reminder of the severe environment they all chose to call home.
Images continued to bombard him, ones he knew he’d see for a long time to come. The researchers as he came upon them on the side of the mountain, almost delirious with panic as they tried to keep pressure on their friend’s wounds. The blood that congealed in a great pool a short distance away.
He’d reacted on instinct, simply taking over and doing what had to be done. Just as he had for his mother that horrible, awful day.
And now he’d pay the price with memories that intertwined, mixing the events into a swirling morass of misery.
“Fuck.”
Mick slammed the bottle to his lips, taking another long swallow, abstractly wondering when the alcohol would kick in, helping him to forget.
It was a remedy he avoided most of the time, but hell, he was only human. He figured he was entitled to a good old-fashioned bender.
Fucking-A.
“What are you doing in here, all by yourself?”
Mick’s gaze collided with Grier’s where she stood at the entry to the sauna, her voice hitting him a moment after the soft snick of the lock dropping into place registered.
“Trying to warm up.”
“I can see that.” She sauntered toward him, her cheeks a ripe shade of pink. “Mind if I have a sip?”
“You like Jack?” Surprise mingled with humor at the image of his little angel knocking back a few belts, which she proceeded to do with surprising speed.
“Not particularly,” she muttered on a harsh cough. “Damn it, but that stuff never gets any better.”
“So why’d you take it?”
Her mysterious gray eyes bored into him, like he was the only person on earth. The sole recipient of her focus and attention. It was heady and exhilarating and so mind-bendingly sexy that he felt the first surge of warmth finally penetrate through his somber mood.
“I believe it’s called liquid courage.”
Before he could even begin to process her words, the reality of what she’d come to the room for hit him at the same time as her small, curvy little body. Surprisingly strong arms wrapped around his neck and her fingers threaded through the hair at his nape, pulling him close to her.
“What are you doing?” he mumbled against her lips.
The tight grip she had on his body loosened as she pulled away. “If that’s your answer I’m clearly not doing it right.”
“Damn straight you’re doing it right,” he muttered on a growl as his hands landed on her, one on her ass and one between those narrow shoulder blades. He pulled her toward him before slamming his mouth against hers.
With a sort of raging desperation, he plundered her mouth. His tongue met hers and they tangled in a rush of need and pent-up desire.
She was so delicate. And so damned sexy he could only thank God she’d somehow known what he needed.
Like an erotic dream, the moments played out along the razor’s edge of his senses and crescendoed into the most sensual experience of his life. He drank her in, the taste of her beyond his most wild imaginings, better than his most heated fantasies.
The softness of her skin as he skimmed his fingers along her stomach before reaching to lift her thin sweater over her head.
Her luscious scent, the light sweetness of vanilla that mixed with the musk of her skin and the dry heat of the room.
The beautiful lines of her body as she arched under his touch.
His fingers trembled slightly as he undid the hook of her bra. The black lace fell away to display the heavy globes of her breasts, pink nipples high and tight in the muted light of the room.
“Oh God, you’re beautiful.”
“The way you’re looking at me makes me feel like I could conquer the world.”
Reality came crashing in at her words. This world—the one they were both firmly planted in—wasn’t the time or place for this.
“Grier. Maybe we shouldn’t do this.” Her face fell and he quickly rushed to explain. “You’re leaving soon and you deserve more than a fling and especially with what you’re dealing with for your father, you just don’t need this—” He broke off as she moved up into his space.
“You’re wrong. I do need this. I need you.” Her pupils were dark disks in the subdued light of the sauna room. He saw heat and need, pleasure and anticipation in those gorgeous gray eyes and his body responded in kind. “And you’re wearing far too much.”
The first smile of his day spread across his face as the vise that had gripped his chest loosened. He knew it was a fool’s errand to do this—to allow himself to get even more deeply infatuated with Grier Thompson than he already was—but he’d be damned if he could stop in the face of such unerring sincerity. “I do believe you’re right.” He leaned in and nipped her chin before whipping the heavy flannel of his shirt and the T-shirt underneath it off in one swift gesture.
“Anyone ever tell you you’ve got some smooth moves, O’Shaughnessy?” She jabbed a finger in his chest as humor threaded itself through all those other emotions in her eyes.
“Never anyone as sexy as you.”
“Good.”
Her mouth found his again, their tongues clashing in another wave of intimacy and, he quickly found, an incredible sense of fun.
He felt the smile on her lips against his own. Felt the joy radiating from her body as she draped her half-naked form over his chest. She traced the lines of his body over and over again with a light sweep of her hands over his stomach and hips.
This was life.
The sense of fun shifted, morphed into an urgency as that great, driving need clawed its way to the surface, impatient for more.
With sudden clarity, he felt the hard wooden bench underneath his back as she straddled him.
“Wait, baby,” he muttered against her mouth. Shifting them into a sitting position, he eyed the stack of white, fluffy towels on a bench on the opposite side of the room. He whispered against her neck as he reluctantly let go of her body with a breathless, “Hang on.”
Mick managed two steps before the reality of his situation hit. His erection rubbed painfully against the fly of his jeans and his normally long-legged gait slowed as he crossed the small chamber. Damn, but he felt like a horny teenage boy. He couldn’t stop the broad grin that spread across his face as he reached for the towels.
A loud peel of laughter registered and he turned, an armful of white cotton in his hands.
“What?”
“You look uncomfortable
there, cowboy.”
He couldn’t stop the flush that crept up his neck. “All your fault, I might add.”
“Well, then.” Her voice dropped as the laughter fled, even as merry mischief rode high in her eyes. “With a compliment like that, I guess it’s up to me to make it worse.”
In a move reminiscent of his shirt removal, she had her jeans and panties off her hips in one smooth move.
And promptly fell forward on a quick stumble as her jeans caught in her boots.
Grier wasn’t sure if she was mortified or delighted to have six feet two inches of solid, rangy man haul her off the floor of the sauna, cradling her in his arms. When she felt his forearm on her naked ass, Grier decided it was delight.
Definitely delight.
And then her gaze caught on her bunched jeans and panties where they had caught on her boots.
Nope. Mortification.
“Are you okay?”
When he gently settled her on the bench, a hard knot fisted in her chest. Whatever desire she’d seen in his bright blue eyes had fled to be replaced with concern. She had to get this back to light and playful. “Mick. I’m fine. Really.”
“You sure?”
“Oh, I’m bringing the sexy back”—she brushed a bunch of wayward strands of hair behind her ear before she reached down to work on the fuzzy boots at her feet—“but I’m fine.”
Maybe if she stayed down here long enough he’d lose interest.
Grier felt the heat of the bench against her very naked ass and realized that was likely a pipe dream, but hey, a girl could hope.
“Well, if you’re sure you’re okay.”
And then the knot in her chest turned into a great, huge, gooey hole of need and desire and something she refused to name as he kneeled before her and gently took over removing her boots.
Without warning, an image of her ex popped into her mind. Cool, confident, all-business Jason who wouldn’t even dream of having sex if she wasn’t freshly showered, perfumed and in recent acquisition of a bikini wax.
Pushing at Mick’s hand, she mumbled around the intrusive memory, annoyed it had somehow found its way into this tender moment. “I . . . I can do it.”
He never moved, never slowed in his actions. He simply brushed her hands away. “Because you’ve done such a good job up to now.” His hands lingered on her calf as he pulled the heavy, furry boot off, those clever fingers kneading into the flesh there.
It was the most erotic moment of her life.
Sitting there, naked before this large man as he gently massaged her calf muscles.
The next boot slid off as his hands roamed over her ankle. “Ah,” he murmured as he shifted and tugged the heavy material of her jeans down over her foot. “There we go.” With gentle movements, he reached for the other pant leg, sliding it fully off.
Leaning forward, his hands braced on either side of her, he whispered against her lips, “It’s all better now.”
She pressed her lips to his, the embarrassment fleeing on the heels of something so real—so life-affirming—she could no more stop it than she could stop the snow falling outside. “I want you.”
“That’s very good to hear.” He pulled back from her and stood, leaning forward to toe off his own boots. “Now watch carefully. See how it’s done.”
A carefree giggle bubbled up her throat and Grier threw one of the towels at him. “I know how to get my boots off.”
“All evidence to the contrary.”
The second boot went flying across the room, landing with a thud in the general direction of the door.
“It sure is hot in here.” Mick reached for the fly of his jeans. “Better do something about that.”
At the cocky grin that covered his face, she stood and moved toward him, reaching for his hands before he could fully remove his jeans. “I think I can help with that.”
He reached for her, his hands settling on either side of her face, his wide palms resting on the top of each shoulder. On a soft sigh, Grier slid her hands into the waistband of his jeans, the hard length of his erection pulsing against her hand. He bent down, pressing his forehead to hers on a heavy groan.
“You kill me. I swear, you do.”
In that moment, as feminine power poured through her, for the first time in months, Grier felt light and carefree. Youthful.
Happy.
As her knees touched the back of the wooden seat, Mick leaned around her and spread handfuls of the towels over the bench.
She sat, then continued with his jeans, pushing them down over his firm ass, her hands running the length of his thighs as she removed the heavy material.
When the jeans hit the ground with a soft thud, he stepped out of them, pulling her up and toward him.
“Was this what you had in mind when you walked in here?”
As she stared up into those bright blue eyes, dark with desire, Grier knew she’d never wanted anything more.
“Absolutely.”
And then there were no more words as she leaned forward, her tongue on an unerring mission toward his nipple. The smooth swirl of her tongue over the flat disk had him gasping and she felt his erection where it pressed against her stomach.
“Grier.” Her name came out on a strangled moan. “You really do kill me.” He buried his hands in her hair, pulling her mouth to his as he plundered, over and over. She matched him with lips, tongue and teeth, using her mouth to mimic the acceptance she offered with the rest of her body.
The urgent pulse of desire rose in her, the beat growing louder and louder as they touched and tasted, offered and took. Grier sighed as his fingers traced a path through the dark curls at the apex of her thighs, his clever fingers sliding through the wet heat that was all for him. Pleasure crested hard and she screamed with the pressure, before his mouth covered hers. With a smile he caught the sound while her body clenched around him.
Without giving her a chance to catch her breath, Mick sat on the heavy swath of towels, pulling her on top of him. He positioned himself at the opening of her body, his long length pressed to her swollen flesh. Still fresh from her orgasm, she nearly cried out at the exquisite sensation as he filled her, inch by glorious inch.
“You with me, baby? ” The low growl in her ear nearly had another wave of orgasm crashing through her.
“Yes.” She caught his gaze, that electric blue, and leaned forward to kiss him. “Yes.”
“Hang on.”
Grier Thompson did just that.
And had the ride of her life.
Chapter Fifteen
“You had sex last night.”
Sloan didn’t mean it to sound like an accusation, but found she couldn’t stop the proclamation as Grier sat down next to her in the small dining area off the Indigo’s lobby.
She’d thought to avoid pancakes for the third day in a row, but one look at Grier’s face had her reconsidering. Carb-loading might go a long way toward stemming the spurt of jealousy that had suddenly taken root in her belly.
“Shhh.” A bright flush crept up Grier’s neck.
“No one’s in here. And I want some details.” Sloan reached for the carafe of coffee on the middle of the table and began to pour a cup. As she set it in front of Grier, she almost fumbled the saucer as her oldest friend burst into tears.
“Oh no.” The green-eyed monster fled on swift feet as she switched chairs to sit next to Grier. “What happened?”
“Everything.” Grier whispered.
“Oh?” She held back any further comment and simply waited.
“Oh is right. More like oh yeah.” Grier heaved a miserable sob before another wave of tears hit. “As in oh yeah it was wonderful and amazing and I orgasmed three times. And that was just the first time we had sex.”
Ooo-kay, jealousy with a side of scrambled eggs was clearly on tap this morning.
Sloan weighed how to play this. Sweet and gentle or psycho bitch friend.
After a moment of appreciation for three orgasms, she opted for the
latter. “So I’m supposed to feel sorry for you?”
Grier’s head popped up from where she had it in her hands. “I’m crying, aren’t I?”
“Based on what you’ve told me so far, I can’t quite understand why.”
“Because it was wonderful.”
Sloan slammed a hand on the table. “Ergo my point. Wonderful sex and you’re sitting here blubbering like a baby the morning after.”
“Sloan!” The tears turned to shock, then to anger, the emotions as clear as day as they flitted across her face.
“What? You want me to pat you on the head and say ‘Oh, poor baby.’ Sorry, sweetheart. I’m not biting this morning. You’re damn well welcome to call me petty for it, too.”
“Well.” Grier flopped back into her chair with a large sniffle, followed by an even louder one.
Sloan fought a smile as Grier grabbed her plate and walked over to the sideboard to get some breakfast. She didn’t miss that the plate was heaping with food when Grier walked back to the table.
Unable to leave well enough alone, Sloan decided a bit more friendly poking was in order. Besides, she was having far too much fun to stop now.
“So when did this blessed event happen? You were at the coffeehouse until around nine.”
“After that.” Grier’s tone was prim as she took her seat and made a rather large production of opening her napkin on her lap.
“That’s all I get?”
“It happened in the sauna. Well, the first part happened in the sauna. The rest happened in my hotel room.”
Sloan briefly reconsidered the jealousy one last time before abandoning it to dig for the good stuff. “You really and truly got it on with Mick in the sauna?”
“Really and truly.”
“I guess they don’t call him a bush pilot for nothing.”
“Sloan!”
She laughed at Grier’s obvious offense. “So you took me up on my advice. Inspired advice, I might add. And thanks to Avery, you knew just how to find the promised land.”
As if they’d conjured her, their new friend materialized in the room with a fresh carafe. “I sense details being shared and I so want in.”