Secrets of a Chalet Girl: HarperImpulse Contemporary Romance Novella

by Lorraine Wilson

  Very.

  That makes two of us.

  He rose up from the sofa, taking her hand and pulling her up towards the fireplace, stopping on a cosy faux-fur rug.

  “Take off your bra and lie down.”

  She wanted to protest that he wasn’t giving the orders but as though second-guessing her he put a finger to her lips. “You asked me to make love to you, so trust me and let me do it my way. I promise you’ll enjoy it.”

  It was an arrogant assumption but she believed him. She was so turned on he’d barely have to touch her to make her come. She swallowed down her embarrassment as she undid the clasp of her bra, letting it fall to the ground. She was aroused, more aroused than she could ever remember feeling and it helped that, at this moment at least, her desire was stronger than her fear.

  Zac pulled her down onto the rug and lay next to her, propped up on one elbow so he could look at her. Flora wished they were still playing Truth or Dare. This felt too serious, the flirty edge had gone. She didn’t need a barometer to tell her the atmosphere was heavy with sexual tension. She felt connected, almost too connected to Zac.

  This wasn’t supposed to mean anything.

  A tiny flicker of panic licked at her, the contradictions confusing her. How could she feel two opposing emotions so strongly? Which should she trust?

  “Come here,” Zac edged closer until their bodies were touching, skin on skin and nose to nose.

  Tentatively, shyly she reached out a hand to stroke his torso, parting her lips to meet his sensuous kisses, trying to let her body take over, responding to him instinctively. He seemed to understand she needed to start this slowly and somehow knew exactly where to stroke her and how much pressure to apply.

  Gradually her shyness faded away as the burning swell of sexual desire rose up to overwhelm her. The kisses became more urgent, more frantic as their fingers explored each others’ bodies. She reached down in between their bodies to stroke the erection that had been pressing hard into her thigh. Zac jerked away, his breathing ragged.

  “Wait,” he said. “There’s no rush. First I want to find out if you were telling me the truth.”

  She frowned. The truth about what? For the briefest of moments it flashed through her mind that he somehow knew about the mess she’d left behind at home in England.

  Don’t be ridiculous Flora!

  “I mean the truth about where I have to kiss you to really turn you on.” He rolled over, pressing his lips to her neck. “Is it here you said you liked it?”

  “Hmm,” Flora replied absently, enjoying his lips against her skin and inhaling his clean, citrus scent. Zac smelt so good.

  “Or should I go down a bit lower?” he whispered, trailing a line of kisses down to her breasts. She gasped when he took a nipple in his mouth and sucked hard, almost bucking off the soft rug.

  He raised his head and looked directly at her, eyes dark with promise. “Or should I go even lower?”

  The breath caught in her chest as she wondered where he’d kiss her next, half wanting it, half afraid of the intimacy.

  “No.” The word was out of her mouth before she knew it. She tried to smile to soften the harshness of her response, thinking quickly. “I want you inside me now. Please don’t make me wait. Do you have, you know…protection?”

  Her cheeks flared hot and it wasn’t because of their proximity to the fire. Great, she was really messing this up. So far she’d ordered him to make love to her and told him to get on with it. Of course Zac had protection; he did this all the time. At least, despite a quizzical look on his face, he didn’t say anything to make her feel even more awkward. She was grateful for that at least.

  “You okay Flora?” he asked, once he’d fetched the foil packet from a convenient drawer.

  “Sure,” she replied, smiling at him. “Sorry Zac, it’s just been a long time since I…”

  “It’s okay, no need to apologise. No need to explain either if you’d rather not.” He sat down next to her. “We don’t even have to have sex if you really don’t want to.”

  “But I do want to,” Flora replied, feeling dangerously close to tears.

  He cupped her face and kissed her and she let the melting sensation take over again.

  No thinking.

  She reached out to stroke his erection, needing him to know she really did want this.

  “Kneel down,” he whispered in her ear, nibbling her earlobe gently. “If you go on all fours I can touch you while I’m inside you, we can come together.”

  She shivered, feeling feverish with need, want and nerves, letting him place her in position, allowing him to pull her legs further apart, exposing her sex to him. She waited, wet and aching for him to be inside her and heard the rip of the foil packet. Once sheathed he pressed himself against her, rock-hard against her. His arm reached round to tease her clit, rubbing it rhythmically until she thought she’d explode.

  She pushed back to meet him as he entered her. She heard a moan and realised it had come from her lips. Zac’s ragged breathing was a turn on and it helped she wasn’t staring into his eyes, feeling his questions. It was easier to let go. She pushed back against him, meeting his thrusts. His fingers continued to stroke and tease, his other hand holding her hip. She was lost to the sensation, to every movement, feeling they were moving in perfect time, dancing to the tune he was playing with his fingers.

  And so did Zac. He expertly tipped her over the edge, helping her reach her climax. Pleasure pierced her, rippling through her body, making her contract around him. Almost instantly he tensed and jerked inside her, before he came.

  She’d been right.

  Zac was fantastic at sex.

  When Zac returned from the bathroom he found Flora sitting, staring pensively into the fire. It’d been a strange night. His best friend was now a father and last night had been Scott’s Stag Do. Everyone around him was moving on and the ghost of Christmas present had loomed its ugly head. He was pretty sure he wasn’t welcome back home for Christmas drinks this year. And he still hadn’t asked anyone to be his date for Scott and Holly’s wedding yet. He’d had a different plus one for each of his friends’ weddings so far.

  Maybe Flora would be free to be his date. Spending more time with her sounded…nice. There was something so natural about her, a distinct lack of artifice he liked.

  “Okay?” he asked, touching Flora lightly on the shoulder to alert her to his presence. She jumped in alarm then composed herself quickly, but he’d seen the flash of panic in her eyes.

  There was definitely a story there. That brief flash of insecurity made him feel protective. Vulnerability always did.

  Tonight has been a big deal for her.

  “Shall we get into bed? It’d be much warmer. The snow’s getting heavy out there. Hopefully there’ll be a nice covering on the slopes tomorrow. Do you snowboard?”

  She shook her head. “I prefer to ski, I think it gives you more control.”

  “I could teach you if you like? I hear you’ve got some time off - isn’t Chalet Repos filling up with family and guests for the wedding? Just like Scott to block out two of his busiest weeks to satisfy Holly’s romantic whim.”

  “I’m good thanks, I’m quite happy skiing, I don’t need…” she blushed as she got to her feet and followed him into the bedroom.

  Cute.

  He loved how easily she blushed.

  “I think it’s lovely, Scott and Holly getting married on New Year’s Eve - the anniversary of their first kiss.” She climbed into the bed, quickly covering herself with the Egyptian cotton duvet and disappearing down into it so he could only see the tip of her nose and top of her head poking out.

  “I thought you didn’t do romantic.” He climbed in beside her.

  “I didn’t say that, I meant, well…”

  “Well you said you didn’t want a boyfriend or a husband,” he replied. “And I’m assuming that after what we’ve just done you didn’t mean you were looking for a girlfriend instead.”


  “Well, no, of course I didn’t mean that,” she squeaked, pulling the duvet completely over her head, muffling her voice. “Can’t you behave like a stereotypical male and go to sleep?”

  “Hey.” Zac reached out under the duvet and tickled her ribs. “I don’t think what we’ve done this evening is exactly stereotypical. Do you really want to be with Mr. Average?”

  He pulled the duvet up over his own head too and kissed her lightly on the mouth. She tasted sweet, of cassis and cocktails.

  “Fair point,” she agreed once he’d pulled away. She nestled her head into his chest, her whole body seeming to sigh into him. He stroked her hair.

  “This is a great bed, Zac. It feels amazing after four weeks in a bunk-bed.”

  “I see, so you’re with me for my bed?”

  “Of course, what else?”

  He could hear the cheekiness return to her voice, it made him smile. “How about my wit and charm? Or my obvious talents.”

  He squeezed her bottom to remind her what they were.

  “It certainly wasn’t your modesty.” She laughed.

  “Who needs modesty? There are enough people in the world who’ll try and put you down, there’s absolutely no need to join in and hand them ammunition.”

  “How true.” She sighed again, her breath tickling his chest. He wanted to know more but knew he had to tread carefully.

  “It’s strange thinking of myself as a godfather.” He mused.

  Huh? Where had that come from?

  He hadn’t been planning to get heavy but it was no good, the urge to share with Flora felt overwhelming.

  “I suppose it must be. Is this your first godchild then? And you’ve no nephews or nieces?”

  “Yes, first godchild but not the first of my friends to have kids. With Nick it’s different though, he’s my best mate, we go way back.”

  Flora said nothing but her soft warm curves pressed up against him felt comforting and he knew she was listening.

  “What do you want to achieve in life, Flora?”

  “Erm, I’d like to have fun.” She spoke quietly.

  There’s got to be more…

  “Apart from that,” he said impatiently. “Everyone wants to do that for a while but then, after that…what do you want to look back on your life and be proud of?”

  “I used to love art at school,” she replied after a long pause. “I loved designing and creating things. I still make some of my own clothes and design bags. My parents and the school’s career advisor persuaded me out of Art College into a more sensible direction. You know, the kind that pays the bills. I did a book-keeping course instead. Exciting, huh?”

  There was a flat tone to her voice that spoke volumes.

  “But you’re here in Verbier for the season? I’d say that’s pretty exciting.”

  “I wanted a change. I needed a challenge.” She sighed again, a heartfelt sigh.

  Maybe she does get it after all.

  “So what would you do if you could? What’s your dream job or your fantasy business, say?” His management skills were kicking in, he could feel it. It was exciting to realise he might be able to help Flora, to make a difference to her.

  “I’d love to be able to have my own bag range, even get them into the shops somehow. I want to be able to prove them all wrong, that you can make a living from being creative, that it isn’t an indulgent waste of my time.”

  Interesting. Who exactly is it she wants to stick two fingers up to?

  “Maybe you can.” He decided to shelve the awkward questions for the moment.

  “Maybe.” Flora yawned loudly.

  He could tell she was shattered. He on the other hand was buzzing. He always had trouble switching his mind off for sleep. Biting back the questions he wanted to ask he listened to Flora’s breathing pattern change as she fell asleep.

  He felt wired, the desire to help Flora tugging relentlessly at his concentration. There was something about her that caught his imagination, she needed someone on her side; he knew it in his guts.

  Having a project always made him restless. There was no point trying to sleep. Quietly he reached for his laptop and began to click and read, making notes in a separate Word file.

  Time to do some research.

  His BlackBerry buzzed nearby. He reached over and grabbed it before it could wake Flora and saw the text was from Nick.

  ‘Still up?’

  He slipped out of bed and pulled his jeans on, making his way to the kitchen, where he wouldn’t disturb Flora. Then he scrolled through his contacts and hit the button to call Nick.

  “Hi mate.” Zac grabbed some juice from the fridge. “Congratulations.”

  “Thanks, it’s bloody amazing, really it blows your mind. I held my son in my arms tonight, can you believe it?”

  “I know, pretty unbelievable. You – a father!”

  Nick seemed to miss the joke, which wasn’t like him. Already, Nick had taken a step away from their relationship, even further than when he’d married. Sure, Zac knew how it went, how relationships drifted. He’d just hoped it wouldn’t happen to them.

  When you didn’t have a supportive family, your friends meant that much more to you.

  “It’s the best feeling ever.” Nick’s voice bubbled over with enthusiasm, carried away on a tide of euphoria. “You really ought to do it mate.”

  “Whoa, I haven’t done the first step yet.”

  “Exactly! You’ve got some catching up to do. What are you waiting for?”

  Zac frowned at that. Sure, they’d always been competitive but settling down and starting a family was hardly something you could compete over. After all, his own parents had married young. Much good it had done them.

  “You’ll end up a lonely old bachelor, mate.” Nick added.

  “Thanks for that,” Zac replied dryly, raising his eyes to the ceiling. “Enough about me. Tell me about that godson of mine…”

  When Flora woke it took her a while to work out where she was. She’d expected to wake up in a bunk-bed but instead woke cradled by the most comfortable mattress she’d ever lain on, blinking up at a high vaulted ceiling. Light streamed through the windows stretching up to the apex of the roof. She could see the snow capped Alps from where she lay, vividly contrasted by the brightest of blue skies.

  She had so much more space than back in the dorm room. She could stretch out her limbs any way she wanted in the super king bed. It was quite a change.

  As was the super-fit guy sitting up in bed by her side. He was working on his laptop looking as fresh as the pristine snow that’d fallen during the night.

  “Morning.” He smiled. “Sleep well?”

  “Very well thanks,” she replied, wondering how she was going to manage the naked dash to the bathroom. Where in the heck were her clothes?

  “I guess it must be nice not having to get up early to make loads of breakfasts for Scott’s paying guests?” He asked. “I have coffee and croissants if you’re hungry.”

  “Sounds good.” She smiled awkwardly, wondering how he could be so unfazed by this.

  Lots of practice Flora. Get used to it. This is what it’s like being back in the dating world – coping with the morning after…

  As embarrassing as being naked under the duvet was she was more worried about last night. Had her inexperience been really obvious? Had she made a twat of herself?

  It wasn’t the kind of subject you could casually bring up over coffee and croissants though, was it?

  “I’ve got a spare dressing gown in the en suite if you like? I’ll go and get breakfast and you can use the bathroom.”

  With relief she streaked to the bathroom once he’d left the room, touched he’d understood her embarrassment. Once the door was locked she let out a sigh of relief. Then she looked in the mirror and relief turned to horror as she noticed the smudged make-up beneath her eyes.

  She did not look good.

  What am I supposed to do now?

  Didn’t people vanish
after one-night stands? Was this even a one-night stand?

  Help!

  She squeezed her eyes tightly shut feeling like a small goldfish plunged into a very large ocean. Perhaps she should eat breakfast but then get quickly out before she outstayed her welcome? Was that the polite thing to do?

  Sex with Zac had been incredible. Nerve endings she hadn’t even known she possessed tingled at the memory of last night.

  I’ve exorcised Tom’s ghost.

  Mostly.

  She hoped Zac wouldn’t talk about Scott and Holly’s wedding too much. It wasn’t his fault, he didn’t know today should’ve been her wedding day and it was hardly a first date topic of conversation. Pain cramped in her stomach and she ignored it. Stress cramps had become a frequent feature of the past six months.

  Flora washed her face quickly and put the white waffle robe on. At least a light tan from the winter sun meant her skin didn’t look too terrible without make-up. She needed to track her handbag down so she could brush her hair though. She ran her fingers through the tangles, trying to tame her blonde locks into some semblance of style.

  I did the right thing by walking out. I had no choice.

  She tried to stifle the hurt that accompanied the thought. Tom’s family hated her guts and she felt the loss of them every day. They’d been one of the reasons she’d put up with Tom for as long as she had. They were practically her surrogate family given that her own parents had upped and moved to Thailand as soon as she turned eighteen, leaving her rootless and alone.

  A fresh wave of fear washed over her as she padded barefoot out of the en suite, submerging her in fear of the future and fear of having to be one hundred per cent responsible for herself with no back up plan and no parents to run home to if it all went wrong.

  Get over yourself and grow up Flora! Other people cope.

  This option was a hell of a lot better than marrying a man who’d been making her miserable. Did she really want to be still living in a minefield, not knowing which step might trigger an explosion? She liked being with Tash, Sophie and Amelia – they reminded her how much she missed the old friends Tom had gradually squeezed out of their life together. How could she have let that happen? It hadn’t seemed to matter too much when she was so close to his sister Cathy.