Текст книги "Baby, It's Cold Outside"
Автор книги: Anne Melody
Соавторы: Jennifer Probst,Emma Chase,Kate Meader
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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 25 страниц)
Ever.
“Why are you lighting candles like we’re about to welcome more guests? A bit much, don’t you think?”
“Let’s just say we’ll probably need it.”
She sighed and dug into the turkey. The moistness of the meat on thick rye bread held the perfect texture and taste. He’d used just enough salt to create a nice bite. So good. Eating turkey sandwiches in such a formal room, with the fire crackling, snow falling, and flickering candlelight was kind of cool. Romantic, even. She bet the woman Dylan picked would have a life full of surprises, sharp turns, and excitement. Exactly what she didn’t want.
Exactly.
As if he heard her thoughts, he spoke up. “Why do you think we’re so different?”
Riley snorted and rolled her eyes for double effect. “Duh. Don’t you remember Cornell? We drove each other nuts. I’m a planner. I’d be early to class, you were late. I did all my homework, you got people to do it for you.”
“I object.”
“Overruled. You partied. I studied. You messed up the dorm and made it disgusting. I cleaned it up. Opposites.”
As usual, the air charged and energy surged between them. It reminded her of a hurricane wind: warm, seductive, but insanely brutal and strong.
“I think we’re the same but approach our goals differently,” Dylan said. “You’re more of a take-charge, steam-ahead type. You use fact gathering, drive, and sheer will to race ahead of the pack and stay there. Contrary to your low opinion of me, I never inherited McCray Tech. My father told me straight out I wouldn’t get a piece of the company just because I had his name. To do that, I needed to carry my weight. That’s why I enrolled in Cornell. At graduation, I started from the bottom and worked my way up, which took many years. Only recently have I been officially put on as a legal partner.”
Another assumption blown to crap. How was this possible? “But you never studied in college! You never cared about impressing teachers, or acing exams. Partying was your real major. I saw you!”
“Did you?” He dropped his voice. “Maybe you weren’t looking too hard.”
“I never had to look, Dylan. You made it obvious to the entire campus you weren’t interested in academics.”
“Yet I got the same GPA as you.”
She clenched her wineglass and took another slug. The fact always pissed her off. “I never understood how you managed that.”
“I intended to enjoy myself at Cornell, because I knew once I stepped into the business the real partying was over. But I was as serious about my grades as you. I just hid it better.”
“How?” she demanded.
His lips twitched. “I don’t need much sleep—never have. Four hours is my maximum, I’m just built that way. I studied at night. I also have a photographic memory, so remembering facts and figures is easy. Lucky, I know, but I used it to my advantage.”
She wanted to challenge him but he told the truth. She could tell. He’d always been smart, but had she really thought he’d be able to pull off a 4.0 by doing nothing? From one executive to another, she grudgingly had to admit he built his success on his own. Would his father really let him inherit his company if he didn’t trust Dylan to run it? Probably not. And she bet he deserved it by working his ass off.
Just like her.
Ah, crap. She’d been kind of a bitch. Riley placed her glass down and met his gaze. “I’m sorry, Dylan. I never knew. You hid it so well.”
She waited for his sarcastic retort, but instead he dipped his head, as if bestowing his forgiveness. A stray white-blond strand fell over his brow. His lips curved in a smile. “Apology accepted. I did love my man whore, party animal reputation.”
She smiled back. Warmth traveled from between her thighs, up her belly, and flushed her neck. Damn, the fire was getting hot. How was the man able to steal the oxygen in a room just by his sexiness?
They stared at one another for a few moments until finally, he bit into his pickle with straight white teeth. She imagined those teeth nibbling on parts of her body, so she had to down more wine.
“Now that we solved that issue, what other things don’t we have in common?” he asked.
She shrugged. “We fight, of course. Fighting is definitely not in my box. I want my spouse to respect my opinions, be calm in all situations, and have patience to think things through a logical sequence before making a decision.” She was quite proud of her speech, so when he burst into laughter she wanted to climb over the table and hit him.
“Couples fight, Riley. Life would be pretty dull and boring if no one stood up for their opinions, or completely succumbed to their partner.”
“Oh, please. Have you ever been trapped at dinner with a couple who fights? They pick at everything the other does, and you’re so uncomfortable you want to die. Last time that happened I had to skip dessert, and I never skip dessert. I don’t want that type of tension in my marriage.”
“We’re talking about a different type of fighting. Take us, for example.”
“What about us? We fight all the time.”
He reached for his wine and swirled it around, as if contemplating the burgundy liquid gave him all the answers. “It’s different,” he said again. “You challenged me in school. Forced me to defend my beliefs. Made me reach deeper to really examine things, whether it be a business solution or an ethical issue or an opinion. You also pushed me to do better. I have respect for you. I enjoy the fighting, because there’s something going on beneath it. Make sense?”
Wow. The words brought a warm glow, but she shook her head. “I disagree. Can you imagine if we were together and had a difference of opinion on everything? That’s exhausting and detrimental to a healthy relationship.”
“After one of our fights, did you ever feel damaged by my words? Disrespected? Undermined?”
“No. Just majorly pissed off.”
He grinned. “Me, too. I’m just saying there’s different levels of fighting, and ours is more of a part of communicating. Sure, we each got in a jibe now and then, but I never wanted to hurt you.”
Riley went over the endless incidents, battles, and arguments that made up her years at Cornell. Funny, she never really thought of it like that. But when she stormed off, she was more aggravated he wouldn’t do what she wanted. He never took potshots, or bullied, or ever made her cry. Huh. Weird. In a way, it was almost like . . .
Foreplay.
Her eyes widened.
She couldn’t stop looking at those lips, wondering if they’d feel the same or she’d be in for a huge disappointment. After all, it was a decade ago, and she’d changed. So had he. Innocence and illusions were gone. The kiss had probably been blown up in her memory as something untouchable. Right?
“Do you believe me, Riley?” His voice caressed her name in a low, deep rumble. Her breath hitched, and suddenly she was burning up in her chair, desperate to touch him.
“Yes.”
“Good.” Those beastly erotic eyes burned across the table and held her captive. “You know a lot of fighting is well documented to be an indicator of repressed sexual attraction.”
Usually she’d treat him to a withering remark, or a derisive snort. Instead, her tongue remained glued to the roof of her mouth. She sat helplessly still in her chair, unable to move.
Because he was right.
There was some type of attraction between them. Maybe lust. He may not be suited to be her husband, or fit in her box, but Dylan McCray made her want. Bad things. Dirty things.
They were stuck together overnight, while a blizzard raged outside. She was a bit tipsy from the wine. They dined in a gorgeous room with a cozy fire. All the pieces slid together, and in that one blinding instant, she wanted to give herself this one night. If she offered, would he take her up on it? Was every step of banter up to now leading to this?
One night of reckless passion and abandonment. Her skin tingled from the thought. Did she dare? Her mind spun with the possibilities, caught on the precipice of impulse and reasoning, and then the final, irrevocable element locked in her decision.
The lights went out.
chapter 5
Something was happening.
The lights snuffed out and Dylan was left in the dark, sporting a mental fog and a massive erection. She completely entranced him with her quick-witted dialogue, more intoxicating than whiskey and more of a turn-on than a Sports Illustrated cover model.
The memory of her as a young girl was a faint shimmer of the woman she’d become. Magnificent. How many dates had he been on and been disappointed? Too many to count. Always needing more . . . wanting more . . . yet not able to figure out what the elusive element was.
Until now.
Riley was spit and vinegar, smart and sassy, and he wanted her. Under him. Over him. In his house, and his bed.
Tonight.
Dylan finally managed to speak. “Guess those candles were a good idea after all.”
Her husky laugh stroked his ears and other places. Shadows fell on the wall and played. Her silhouette from the fire and candlelight illuminated her in a fiery glow. The thoughts of what he wanted to do with her, to her, made his gut clench and his dick stretch uncomfortably against his jeans. Now he just had to convince her to play.
Dylan rose, taking one of the candelabras to the other end of the table. “Are you okay?”
She tilted her head. God, she was beautiful. The burgundy in her hair, the soft violet of her eyes, the redness of her lips. The deep V neck of her sweater tempted him to taste the tender flesh there, pull down her sweater to bare her breasts. Suck and bite her nipples until she grabbed his shoulders and cried out his name.
She seemed to catch the vibe in the air and trembled. So close. Her barriers were shifting, opening, allowing just a tiny access point where he intended to jump right in. Timing was everything.
Yes, she was just as aware of him as he was of her. They’d always had a strange physical chemistry that battled with their verbal and mental clashes. Maybe that’s what made it so damn hot.
“For being trapped in spook mansion with no lights in a blizzard? I’m peachy.”
“I have a backup generator. Need to go put it on.”
She stretched out her legs with a languorous air and propped one elbow on the table. “I don’t know. It sets the mood.”
Dylan stiffened. Was she flirting? He’d planned on trying to seduce her, but Riley Fox always seemed to switch things up. He got off on trying to anticipate her next move. “Mood, huh? We spoke about everything else. Maybe it’s time we talked about the kiss.”
Ah, he’d managed to surprise her. His skin tingled with anticipation. They’d been dancing around each other all night, and it was finally time to get honest. The tension tightened a notch. Her scent enveloped him in a mix of exotic musk and a touch of jasmine—kick-ass and powerful—and not the least bit subtle. Just how he liked it.
He wanted her. There was a reason she was trapped in his house on the night of a blizzard. Kinnections had matched them. It was a sign, and he’d spent most of his life listening to his gut to balance the logic in his head. Too much logic and control caused mistakes. Too much impulse and freedom caused sloppiness.
Balance equaled success.
Riley had it all along or she’d never been able to build her business. Somewhere on her journey, she trusted her gut to make bold decisions that didn’t make sense on paper. He knew well the ugliness out in the world when dealing with money and power, and no one came away without disillusions. She’d taken hers and made herself stronger. Every part of her fascinated him, and he intended to plumb the depths tonight.
She tapped a finger against her glass. “Surprised you remembered.”
“What if I told you I still dream about that kiss?”
“I’d say I barely put a blip on your radar. You were always happy to move on to the next pretty face and good set of boobs.”
“You’re right. I was too young, raw, and ambitious. I wanted to savor every flavor life threw at me, suck the nectar dry, and have no regrets. And I don’t, Riley. Except for one.”
“What?”
Without breaking her gaze, he dropped in front of her, his hand resting lightly on her knee. Slowly, he parted her legs and knelt between them. Her harsh indrawn breath drifted to his ears in a symphony. Dylan reached out and grabbed a tendril of hair, sliding it between his fingers from root to tip, enjoying the feel of raw silk wrapping itself around him in a tight bind. The thought of her gorgeous hair wrapping around his dick as she pleasured him made a low groan rumble from his throat.
“You,” he said simply.
Shock mingled with an arousal she couldn’t hide, evident in her wide eyes, the tightening of her nipples, the way she squeezed her thighs together mercilessly, as if desperate to keep him from scenting the truth. Dylan bet if he slipped his hand beneath her panties he’d find her wet and willing to do whatever he wanted. The key was getting her mind on board with her very delectable, sensual body.
He sunk both hands into her hair, holding her firmly at the nape of her neck. “That kiss haunted me. Do you know how many times I jerked off to just the memory of your lips over mine, your taste against my tongue? How badly I ached to lay you naked on my bed and take everything you’d give me? Bring you so much pleasure you’d scream and beg me to stop? To continue? To fuck you so thoroughly there’s not another man on the planet you’d be able to touch without thinking of me?”
A shudder wracked her body. He waited for her reaction. Would it be retreat? A scathing remark meant to barb and push? A flirtatious, frustrating cat-and-mouse game?
Instead of retreat, she leaned in, so her breath struck softly against his lips. The heat between them pulled and tantalized. Dylan clawed for control, when all he wanted was to take her mouth, strip her naked, and see how many orgasms it would take to finally get her to surrender. He hoped a lot. He planned on it.
“What makes you so sure I remember it?” she drawled against his mouth.
His dick wept for mercy. The primitive male in him roared to take her and show her the truth. Instead, with an inch between their lips, he smiled real slow.
“I’m betting you thought about that kiss, too. Late at night. Under the covers. Wet and aching for me. Let’s finish what we started. Let me take you to my bed.”
In his wettest, wildest imagination, Dylan never would’ve believed the woman could raise the stakes so high and so fast. Yet, in typical fashion, she managed to blow him away.
Her voice was a husky whisper of smoke and temptation. “Why? I see a perfectly good table in front of you.” His hands tightened brutally in her hair. “Do you have the guts to use it?”
Dylan waited a full beat. Two.
Then slammed his mouth over hers.
* * *
The world tumbled in slow motion, then stopped for a brief moment. Her blood rushed in her veins, wetness seeped between her thighs, her pulse pounded with a mad glee, and then he kissed her and it was all over.
She was lost.
A low moan ripped from her throat at contact and his tongue plunged deep. Completely raw, with little finesse and all dark hunger, he invaded her mouth.
The past and present blurred together, but this time, there was no retreat. Meeting him halfway, their tongues tangled and fought in a sensual dual she was happy to lose. He claimed and plundered, pressing her back over the chair until she was stretched out and he loomed over her. His other hand cupped her breast, flicking the tight bud of her nipple. She gripped his shoulders and arched against him, asking for more, and without breaking the kiss, his hand slipped underneath the V neck, under the lace of her bra, and hit bare skin.
Oh, God. It felt so good, his fingers tweaking, causing a lightning bolt to hit straight to her clit, which was so full and desperate for pressure. Never had her body lit up so fast, with just a kiss and simple touch. Usually it took awhile for foreplay to get her going, but holy crap, she was going to come right now if she could just lift her hips a bit and rub—
“Don’t think so, my little hellcat.” He murmured the words against her lips, pausing to bite, then suck. “I waited ten years to have you. I’m not letting you get off on a quick rub in the chair.”
She should be completely embarrassed, but Riley was beyond caring how she got there. She wasn’t into casual sex or one-night stands—she was on the hunt for a husband. But right now, tonight, the need in her body hurt too much. Her hunger reached beyond any type of rationality. Riley craved the hard fall of the unknown, living the fantasy of becoming his lover for one night. Plenty of time to restock and get her plan back in order tomorrow. She tugged harder, trying to lift her ass higher. “You win. I want you.”
He chuckled low and dirty. “Oh, baby, you’re still gonna pay.”
Shivers raced down her spine. He teased her nipple, flicking it back and forth, until it was so taut and swollen she knew one swipe of his tongue could take care of the agony. “I didn’t do anything.”
He broke the kiss and looked deep in her eyes. “You did everything. You just don’t know it yet.”
The words made no sense, but he gave her no time to ponder. He lifted her up and pressed her down on the dining room table. With deft motions, he moved the empty plates and her wineglass. Her legs dangled over the side, her back supported by the marble. Riley waited for the frantic pull of clothes, the feel of skin on skin, the mad rush toward orgasm that usually accompanied a passionate encounter. Instead, he towered over her at the edge. With his exotic, simmering gaze trained on hers, Dylan smiled, telling her immediately he was in no rush.
Oh, God, he was going to kill her.
He toed off his shoes and pulled off his sweater with one easy motion. His skin gleamed in the firelight, a beautiful golden brown, with well-defined pecs and biceps. A line of light hair traveled down washboard abs and disappeared into his jeans. Her fingers fisted to unsnap, rip them off, and feast. Riley was just about to jump him when he moved out of reach.
“Stay there. Don’t move.”
He grabbed one of the candles and disappeared, coming back with a few wrapped packages he placed beside him. Oh yeah. Condoms. Thank God he remembered, because her mind had become putty, just like her body.
Without a word, he pulled off each of her boots, rubbing her foot through the stockings in a slow massage. As he pressed into her instep, she swallowed a moan and kicked her leg a bit so he’d get on with the more important parts. Her body throbbed for relief, but he took his time with each foot, then gently let them sway back, dangling in midair.
“Dylan?”
“Yes, darlin’?”
“Umm, we started at a good pace there, but things have slowed.”
A glint of white teeth flashed. “Ever hear the motto ‘it’s all in the journey and not the destination’?”
“Yeah. I always thought that was bullshit.” She scooted an inch down and wiggled her hips. “Getting to goal is a good thing.” The thought of a mind-blowing orgasm with her secret fantasy had all her circuits firing. She enjoyed sex, but found her mind was way too involved, so she did best with a quick, intense session that got her to climax. Riley had accepted her limitations and issues a long time ago, and though many times she wished to be less complicated, she also realized it was easier to accept and move on than try and fight her natural inclinations.
“What if I told you I intend to change your mind?” He played with her ankle, slipping his fingers under her pants and rubbing her calf. Damn, the man could’ve been a massage therapist and made a million. Her muscles flexed while he kneaded, then caressed the back of her knee. Bolts of pleasure streaked through her. “What if I told you I don’t intend to let you get to goal until you’re begging me?”
Uh, yeah. Good try. But she was so hot right now, as soon as he got close for any friction she’d take care of herself. Besides, he didn’t know about her issues of nonstop mental chatter. Still, she smiled. “I’d say good luck.”
His grin was very smug and very male. A shiver of warning trickled down her spine. She’d never begged for anything in her life, especially for a man to satisfy her. She didn’t intend to start now.
Dylan leaned over and skated both hands higher, pausing right underneath her thighs. He squeezed hard, and her hips lifted unconsciously. “I’m going to love every moment of this.” With one deft movement, he gripped the material of her pants and pulled them off her. The white lace of her panties was already past damp, but when she tried to close her legs an inch, he lifted her legs high and placed them on the edge of the table. Far apart.
Riley sucked in a breath, feeling exposed everywhere. His hot gaze took in every inch of her skin, lingering on her most private parts, until a secret thrill began to build. Something dark and dirty stirred to life. A man never took the time to study her body with such razor intent, as if dying to ravish, taste, mate. She trembled, not knowing what to do with the crazy feelings beginning to surge.
“So pretty,” he murmured, tracing one index finger over the elastic, skimming over the front so she struggled to remain still. “So wet. But not enough. Not yet.”
His talk shocked her. Men didn’t talk . . . like that. Did they? And why did she like it? Dylan leaned over, and she released a sigh, waiting for the final barrier to be off and feel him inside her.
Instead, he lowered his mouth and pressed kisses over her thighs with a leisurely intent that told her he was in no rush. His tongue lashed out at her, tasting the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, knee, calves, and slowly back up. Her mind spun and grabbed for purchase, but there was no logic. She tried to grab his head and urge him upward, but he ignored her. A nibble here, a lick there; his hands consistently roved, pushing up her sweater and dipping into her belly button, squeezing her hips, playing with the damn elastic of her panties until a whimper broke from her lips.
Finally, he inched his way back up. The heat of his skin burned into hers, and with the same easy pace, he pushed up the sweater, propped her up, and guided it over her head.
“You taste like I imagined. Exotic. Sweet.”
Her voice sounded like sandpaper. “Orange blossom body lotion.”
“And jasmine.”
“Yes, that’s in there, too. Dylan, what are you doing?” Her eyes begged him to give her the orgasm and stop the torture, but the wicked grin that tugged at his lips told her he had other plans.
“Everything. By the time I taste your pussy, you’ll beg me to let you come against my tongue. And I’ll demand it, Riley. Every last bit of it is mine.”
Filthy. Words like this had never been spoken to her, but she grew wetter, and her skin itched with such sensitivity she rolled back and forth in an effort to soothe. He laughed, cupping her breasts through the sheer white lace that matched her panties. Her nipples were already hard and aching, desperate to be released from their prison, but he just dipped his head and began licking her through the material, scraping his teeth over the sensitive nub again and again until a low scream built at the back of her throat. His erection behind his jeans seemed massive, pressed against her swollen core, and she half lifted to press against him. His teeth nipped sharply against her nipple and she cried out. The pain lashed and turned to excruciating pleasure, forcing her head to thrash back and forth. Too much. It was all too much.
“I can’t do this,” she moaned. “It’s taking too long.”
Dylan unsnapped her bra and cupped her bare breasts, lifting them up to his mouth. “It’s never enough. Not for you. Don’t know what dickheads you’ve been with, but ‘wham bam thank you ma’am’ is not your style.”
“Yes! It is!”
His lips closed around her nipple and he sucked. She held on to him in a fierce grip, arched upward, burning alive to satisfy the ache between her legs and the need for this man to take all of her, any way he wanted, over and over and over.
“Open your mouth for me, Riley.” His eyes seethed with demand and lust. “Now.”
His tongue surged between her lips and she almost wept with the pleasure. He plundered every last secret, then softened the pressure so he could play. The dual effects of hard and soft, rough and gentle, slow and fast, broke down her mental barriers and left her with nothing.
Just freedom.
By the time he broke the kiss and moved his way back down her body, Riley was ready to surrender. “Oh, please,” she whispered. “Please.”
“Better. You’re almost there.” He tugged off her panties and laid her bare for his gaze. “Do you know how long I fantasized about tasting you here?” He dragged a finger over her dripping slit, lightly playing on her clit, and Riley writhed with a dark need to let him do anything. “Is that what you want?”
“Yes!”
“Ask me, Riley. Beg me.”
“P-p-please kiss me there.”
“Where?”
Shame burned within but she was past caring. “Please kiss my pussy. Please lick me.”
“Beautiful. You’re so beautiful, you were made for this. For me.” He cupped her ass and lifted her up for his mouth. The first wet swipe of his tongue caused a long wail to escape her lips. He avoided her clit, once again taking his time, murmuring terrible, dirty words about her pussy, curling two fingers and plunging inside her at the same time he licked her clit, so lightly and gently Riley felt the last of her sanity shred.
“Dylan, please! I need—I’m begging!”
Without hesitation, he increased the pressure and pounded three fingers into her weeping channel.
She came apart.
The climax tore through her, stole her breath, and ripped her to pieces. She screamed and bucked beneath him, but he never stopped, dragging the pleasure on and on until she was a shivering, trembling mass of exposed nerves.
Riley collapsed, boneless. The hiss of a zipper cut to her ears. The rip of a wrapper. And then he was dragging her down the length of the table, her legs spread wide, feet propped high on his shoulders, completely open to anything he wanted to do.
His cock paused at her entrance. Pushed in an inch. Another. Slowly, he filled her completely, taking everything she had without apology. She stretched to accommodate him, relishing the tightness, and when he was buried deep within her, he interweaved his fingers with hers.
His voice broke. “It’s you. Why didn’t I realize? It’s always been you.”
She had no time to process the words or their meaning. He withdrew all the way, then slammed himself fully back, sheathing his throbbing dick to the hilt. Again. Again. Again.
The ride was wild, long, choppy, thrilling. The second climax shimmered just out of reach, the feeling of him taking over her body, his hips working in a primitive dance, sweat drenching their skin, over and over until—
Riley broke apart, dimly noting him following her over the edge. She gripped his hands as her only anchor, his weight pressing her against the table, until they collapsed.
She closed her eyes.
Her mind was completely and blissfully empty.
