Текст книги "Baby, It's Cold Outside"
Автор книги: Anne Melody
Соавторы: Jennifer Probst,Emma Chase,Kate Meader
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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 25 страниц)
chapter 6
Had he died? Nope, his body ached a bit. He was getting older and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had sex on a table. Of course, he’d never be able to eat here again without thinking of her.
Her voice drifted to his ears. “That may have been worth the ten-year wait.”
Dylan chuckled and nibbled on her neck. So sweet. She was still shaking slightly from the string of orgasms, making him want to do the whole thing over again. And again. “Brat. Is sex back in the box?” He eased off of her and disposed of the condom.
“No. I told you it can’t be.”
“Foreplay? Oral?”
She gave him that adorable glare that always turned him on. “That’s included with sex.”
He turned to go stoke the fire. Curious, he wondered what else she thought she had to have in a husband. So far, her list was way off. She’d destroy a mild-mannered accountant who did anything she said. Dylan shuddered just at the thought. She bored without a challenge, and to him, love and marriage and kids was the ultimate goal to conquer.
“Tell me what else you see happening in this fictitious perfect future of yours?” he asked.
She eased to a sitting position, her naked body a gorgeous silhouette. “So you can make fun of me? Hell no.”
He threw up a hand in a Boy Scout gesture. “Promise not to make fun.”
Her lower lip jutted out in a hint of a sulk. He walked back over and kissed it off her, until her hands gripped his shoulders and her nails dug in hard. Damned if she wasn’t making him hard again.
“Fine. I’m going to sew all my children’s clothes. And knit. I’ll make the afghans and do little booties for the boy and two girls I’ll have.”
He stared at her and waited for the punch line. Never got one. A wild laugh scratched at his chest, dying to escape, but he battled it back. Barely. “You told me you flunked home economics in high school. You hated it, Riley. You’d go apeshit if you tried to sew.”
She gasped and pointed her finger at him. “See! I told you! I’m going to like it this time. Crochet is in my box. And my husband is going to do all the maintenance around the house. Mow the lawn, fix the plumbing, maybe help build an addition.”
He pressed his lips together. His eyes began to tear. “Don’t you make a crap load of money?”
Her brows knitted in a frown. “So?”
“Why the hell does he have to do that shit if you can hire out? Aren’t you going to be running Chic Publishing? You gonna take up yoga next?”
Her stony silence was answer enough.
No. Fucking. Way. With her temper? She used to tell him that sitting still with her own thoughts for too long made her want to jump off a cliff. Riley had boundless energy, was a classic multitasker, and craved multiple goals and projects going on simultaneously. This time he couldn’t help it. He burst into laughter. “You’re nuts. I’ll pay to see you try and sit cross-legged and be quiet for five minutes. Hell, one minute and you’ll be opening your mouth to speak.”
She jumped off the table and pushed him. “Yoga is in my box! I want to bring a measured, balanced energy into my life, and yoga is the key.”
Dylan wiped at his eyes. “Sure, darlin’. I just think it would be easier if you recognize your true personality and find someone who will fit, rather than try to change. Like me. I bet I’d fit in your box. That’s the reason Kinnections matched us.”
She sucked in her breath. “Not possible. Especially if you’re not on board with knitting, yoga, and friendship before sex.”
He couldn’t help it. She was so damn cute when she got riled up. He grabbed her hair and kissed her hard and deep and long, until she grew quiet and malleable. His blood sung and roared in victory. He was the only one able to tame Riley Fox. Now he had to prove it to her before the morning came.
“I’m going to turn on the generator so we can get the lights back on. Stay here. And don’t put on clothes.”
With one last kiss, he grabbed a candle and went out to the hallway. He took the staircase down to the control room, then after a few minutes got the generator running. The lights flicked on and he came back upstairs, ready to go for round two and three with the woman who had exploded back into his life.
She was wrapped in the dining room runner.
The gold and silver covering made her look like a yummy Christmas gift ready to open. Seeing her in full light—the rich texture of her hair spilling over her shoulders, the soft, flawless skin, the plump, swollen lips—took his breath away.
“God, you’re gorgeous,” he murmured. A slight flush traveled over her cheeks and upper chest. “Why are you wearing a tablecloth?”
Those extraordinary eyes narrowed and sparked. She spoke with pure haughtiness. “Because I don’t do naked.”
He gave a wolfish grin. “Covering you up should be a crime. I’ll have to convince you.”
He came forward but she jumped back, her hands clasping the edge of the runner. “No! I mean it, Dylan, I refuse to be so uncivilized.”
Amusement cut through him. She was so much fun. “Is this also in the box? Civilization and covering up what I just touched and tasted?”
Her composure never faltered. “Correct. I should’ve never told you about my box.”
“Suit yourself, darlin’. Come on, I want to show you something.” He stalked over to French doors and pulled back the heavy curtain. He felt her glare at his bare back, but also knew she was staring at his ass and enjoying the view.
“What about you?” she practically squealed. “You need clothes.”
He arched a brow. “I’m comfortable being naked. Do you have a problem with that?”
He noted the high flush of her cheeks and the hungry stare. Oh yeah, he had her good. “Yes, I do,” she said primly. “I can’t concentrate.”
Dylan winked. “I don’t want you to concentrate. Now get your gorgeous behind over here.”
“Fine.” She huffed out an annoyed breath and stomped over in her bare feet. The elegant cloth trailed behind her like a queen’s robe. Dylan unlocked and pulled open the French doors. He tucked her into his chest, then she leaned forward and peered out over the balcony.
Then gasped.
It was sheer magic. A winter wonderland children dreamed of. His home sat on top of the mountain with the perfect view overlooking Rinker’s Park. Pine and evergreen trees flanked the entire skating rink and edged the park, encrusted with thick layers of ice. Fat flakes fell down slow upon the scene. The skating rink could be seen in the distance, safely covered by the roof, and the painted horses in the elaborate carousel looked frozen in time. White icicle lights wrapped around the park and twisted through the trees.
This was the reason he’d bought the park. Besides the privacy he desperately needed, and his love for living in a natural isolation, there was something about the place that brought back an elemental piece of innocence left behind. It made Dylan remember what was important, what he wanted from life, and the constant struggle for balance. For a little while, overlooking the scene with the snow and fire behind him, with Riley held in his arms, he reached perfection.
“It’s so beautiful,” she whispered, as if not wanting to break the spell. “And this is all yours?”
“Yes.” Pride rang through his voice. “It’s mine.”
She shivered in the wind, but he felt nothing but the burning heat of her skin against his. The surge of possession rose through him like a tsunami and crashed. He practically shook with need for her again. To claim, push, torment, pleasure. Half dazed with want, he turned toward her and lowered his mouth to hers.
* * *
Damn the man.
How could she enjoy the view or think about anything except how good he looked naked? His body was spectacular, from the dusting of golden hair, toasty skin, lithe muscles, and the hard, taut muscles of his ass flexing as he walked. He wore his nakedness like his clothes, confident, comfortable, and a screw-you attitude if you didn’t like it.
There wasn’t a woman in the world who wouldn’t like it.
Need overcame her. She shuddered with raw emotion, feeling as if she wanted to climb inside him and experience everything he had to give. When he kissed her, she surrendered. Sliding her arms up around his shoulders, he pulled her in for more, gently sipping from her lips and then pushing his tongue inside to deepen the kiss. Riley floated, anchored to Earth by only him, and wondered if this night would ruin her forever.
He broke away, breathing hard. His eyes flashed with hunger. “I need you again.”
Riley didn’t answer. Just held on tight when he scooped her up and strode up the stairs and into his bedroom. She caught the barest glimpse of a huge sleigh bed, dark wood, thick carpet, and another fireplace before he stripped the tablecloth off her and pulled her in tight. They were gloriously naked, breast to chest, hip to thigh, mouth to mouth.
They feasted on each other, hands exploring, tongues tangling, until his very breath and taste and scent was imprinted not only on her body but on her soul. When she sank to her knees in front of him, taking him fully in her mouth, he groaned with an animal wildness that spoke to that hidden place in her. Crazed with the need to make him lose all control, she cupped him, stroking his steely length, running her teeth gently down the front of his cock. Dylan chanted her name, hands fisted in her hair, and when he finally released, she took all of him, milking out his orgasm until he shuddered under her, completely surrendering.
Riley waited for a normal recovery time, but he pushed her to all fours on the bed, fit himself with a condom, and began gently rocking his partial erection against her wet core. Riley groaned, pushing back, but he was back under control. Teasing her with his cock, he played with her breasts, pinching her nipples until they were hard and swollen. Sinking in a few inches deeper, he moved his hands lower, stroking her belly, clit, labia, giving her a little bit more of him at a slow, steady pace.
The relentless pressure of her oncoming orgasm made her his slave. She begged, rocked her hips, desperate for him to claim her completely, and as if he realized what she needed, he grasped her hips hard and slammed into her.
Riley cried out at the exquisite fullness. Keeping a brutal, fast pace, he took her with a savagery that engulfed her, as if desperate to mark her again as his, and she reveled in the knowledge that their lovemaking wasn’t close to being pretty, or elegant, or surface, but a give and take of basic, primal needs and wants that ripped away all civility.
Her skin bruised under his grip; her fingers ached as they twisted into the mattress; her muscles screamed with use. None of it mattered in the drive for release, and when his fingers finally slipped over her clit to pinch hard and release, she went over the edge.
A sob caught in her throat as everything inside of her emptied out and shattered. He was there to hold her when she collapsed, murmuring tender, nonsensical words in her ear as she came down from the wicked heights of pleasure, and for that one instant she knew she was safe.
Time had no meaning. Was it seconds? Hours? Finally, he rolled over, kissing her temple, pushing back her hair, and whispered in her ear.
“Are you ready?”
She groaned. No way. Riley couldn’t have another orgasm—she’d die. She shook her head. “No.”
“I’m taking you anyway.”
“I need a nap. A rest.” She pushed weakly against his chest.
“Such a dirty mind. I’m taking you somewhere else.”
“Where?”
His grin was wolfish and wicked and sexy as hell.
“Skating.”
chapter 7
He loved the way she blinked with a heavy languor and stretched out, her glorious body free from covers and open to his gaze. She practically purred with satisfaction, and the fact he gave it to her made him feel like Rocky fucking Balboa.
“I don’t understand.”
His lips twitched. “I’m taking you ice-skating. Come on, I have another set of snow pants and ski jacket.”
Those swollen lips pursed in a pout. “Outside? There’s a blizzard in case you’ve forgotten.” The ping of ice pellets against the windows tinkled in the air. Dylan pressed a kiss to her forehead and got up.
“Good, that’s the best time to see it.”
She shook her head, all that dark messy hair swinging over her bare shoulders. “I don’t know. Doesn’t seem very reasonable.” She tried to crawl back under the blanket. “I already saw the rink from the balcony.”
He laughed and reached over her, sliding out the bureau drawer. “I think you need a bit of motivation.”
“That type of motivation will keep me from walking normal tomorrow.”
“Hmm, you really do have a filthy mind. As much as I’d love to take up the challenge, I was thinking more of sugar.”
Riley peeked from under the sheets. “Sugar?”
He slid out a king-size, bittersweet dark chocolate bar and peeled back the foil. Then broke off a square. “Open up.” A shudder wracked her body. Her lips parted and he placed the chocolate on her tongue. He watched as she moaned and half closed her eyes in pleasure. Damn, the woman was so sensual. “Good?”
“Heaven. I shouldn’t be surprised you keep chocolate in the bureau. You used to hoard those snack-size Hershey’s bars. I still remember cleaning up endless wrappers in the dorm.”
He shrugged and popped a square into his mouth. “Never know when you’ll need a lift. Worked for us. Do you still eat buckets of Lucky Charms when you’re stressed?”
She stared at him with surprise. “You remember that?”
“Of course. I’d find those little bags filled with cereal around finals. You always ate the marshmallows first.”
“They’re the best part.”
They finished eating in satisfying silence. When she was done, he carefully rewrapped the bar and stuck it back in the drawer. A tiny smear of melted chocolate stuck to her lip. Dylan leaned over and kissed her, swiping the last of the sweetness on his tongue. She felt so soft and warm and willing in his arms, as if she’d always belonged there. He pulled away with regret. “Now we’re ready.” He ignored her groan, walked to the closet, and began pulling out items. “I promise it will be worth it.”
She grumbled under her breath, but he caught her half smile.
He threw a few items onto the bed and donned a pair of snow pants and a thermal shirt. “Make sure you put on the socks to keep your feet warm. Be right back.”
Feeling like a kid on Christmas, he went downstairs to the basement and took the tunnel to the mechanics room. He spent a few minutes turning on the switches and setting things up. After carefully checking all circuits, he headed back to the main house and his bedroom.
She was dressed and ready to go. Those violet eyes brimmed with curiosity, but she crossed her arms in front of the overly large jacket. “I feel like a stuffed sausage. Have I told you I’m not crazy about surprises or impulsive decisions?”
“Another item that should be in the box. You need a man to challenge you. Push boundaries. Urge you to try new things.”
“I don’t think I like skating,” she grumbled.
Damn, she looked cute. His clothes swallowed her up, but she’d be warm and dry, which was the goal. “You will. Let’s go.”
She clomped behind him in too-heavy boots, and he led her downstairs, through the darkened hallways in the secret tunnel, his gloved hand firmly enclosing hers. “Dude, if I didn’t trust you this whole thing would reek of a B horror movie set.”
“Nothing to worry about. I already ripped your clothes off and ravished you.”
“Oh yeah, cool.”
The door opened. Massive machinery hummed and buzzed, but Dylan didn’t pause. Finally, they stepped outside onto a large open terrace that was barely lit.
The whip of the wind scratched like icy fingernails against his cheeks. They ducked their heads and he increased the pace. “Just a little more.”
“It’s cold! There must be a foot already out here and it’s still not stopping. Dylan, maybe we could dump this plan and drink some hot cocoa without our clothes again because this is a bit– Oh my God.”
She stopped short. He took in the scene before him with full satisfaction. Yes. This was the reason he’d bought the park. This was what he needed to show her.
The bare trees lined the view of the hills and set off the large circular skating rink as if cradled between mother nature’s hands. Endless white lights twinkled in a vision of blinding light, twisted in the branches. A large Christmas tree gaily decorated stood in the center, a miniature version of Rockefeller Center. Christmas carols streamed from the speakers. Soft, pure white blanketed every spare inch of ground, and crusted ice threw out a thousand rays of light, like a diamond showing off in all its glory. An elaborate roof covered the main rink and gates around it, protecting the precious ice from any type of weather conditions and allowing patrons to use it during inclement weather. Sure, it cost a bundle, but Dylan believed it was worth it. He saved so much on maintenance by not needing twenty-four-hour crews keeping the rink cleaned during storms or regular snowfall.
She squeezed his fingers and her voice came out in a husky whisper. “I feel like I’m in Frozen.”
“Hmm. Not that you watch children’s movies.”
“It also won an Academy Award. Now be quiet or I’ll punish you by singing Let It Go.”
“Let’s not be hasty.” He smiled. “This is why I bought Rinker’s Park. When you visit, you believe in something bigger, something beautiful. Don’t we all need that?”
When she turned to look at him, a shift occurred. He held his breath, recognizing the crumbling of a barrier between them; recognizing the naked emotion in her eyes as confirmation. Dylan leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to her trembling lips. Then smiled.
“Let’s skate.”
They needed to hike through mounds of snow to get to the gallery where he housed the skates and equipment. She fell a few times, muttering under her breath about his crazy-ass ideas, and hung on to his hand as he dragged her through thigh-high powder. Dylan quickly fitted them with skates and led her onto the rink.
He tamped down the laughter for the first twenty minutes. Besides grabbing on to the rail and refusing to let go until she was ready, Riley frowned, muttered, and looked generally pissed off at his ability to skate perfect figure eights, backward and forward, while a few tentative tries landed her on that gorgeous backside.
Dylan enjoyed the transformation, though, when her usual stubbornness drove her forward into the middle of the ice in a sink-or-swim approach. Like most things the woman did in her life, she took the gamble.
And she swam.
He glided by her, grabbed her hand, and they hit stride. Watching fat chunks of snow surround them and ice sparkling added to the dreamy atmosphere. Dylan sunk into the moment, not needing conversation, just the presence of the woman he’d fallen in love with in an evening.
“My dad wanted a boy,” she said.
Dylan didn’t answer. A gut instinct told him to be quiet, because something bigger was happening underneath the surface and he didn’t want to jinx it. After a moment, Riley continued.
“When I was born, he was disappointed. Of course, I didn’t realize this until much later, after the tragedy. Sure, I knew he treated me with a distance, and seemed uninterested in anything purely female. But I had my mom, so that was okay. Dad’s world revolved around my brother. He was three years younger. His name was Rick.”
Dylan swallowed. He noted the terms she used, and knew the story was a rough one. But he kept skating, because he knew if he paused or said a word, she’d stop talking.
“I couldn’t be too jealous because I adored him, too. Dad was always pushing him, in sports, grades, social status. Had dreams of Rick doing something really successful, and always talked about him being the head of some super conglomerate or running his own company. Rick would roll his eyes and crack jokes—he had this great sense of humor that just made everyone love him. He made things easy for me. Mom rarely gave me crap, happy that I was happy, and Dad concentrated all his efforts on making sure Rick would excel at everything he did.”
Over the sound system, “Jingle Bells” turned to “We Wish You a Merry Christmas.” They did a few more laps and she was able to continue.
“Rick and my mother were killed in an auto accident. June 11, 1998. I was sixteen. He was thirteen. Guy fell asleep at the wheel and hit them head-on. No one survived.
“After that, it all changed. Dad walked around like a ghost. So did I. I felt so guilty. I was obsessed with my social status at school, crushing on this guy in my biology class, and hoping he’d ask me out. I felt so stupid, worried about ridiculous things when my brother had been working so hard to give Dad what he wanted. Excellence. Success.”
She lapsed into silence. “What did you do?” Dylan asked.
“I changed. I had to. I stopped worrying about friends and boys, and studied all the time. I decided to give Dad what we were all missing, and try to honor Rick’s memory. In a way, it wasn’t even hard. I learned to focus. I think I had the skills needed all the time, but I’d never been pushed before. I began enjoying the control and discipline it took to reach goals and depend on yourself. Much easier than maneuvering through social conventions, relationships, and teenage angst. Suddenly, my life was . . . cleaner.”
Dylan fought the need to take her in his arms and comfort her. All his questions about her drive and talent were answered. Of course she’d take her brother’s place. Of course she’d dedicate her life to making her father proud. It was probably always within her, but never had the opportunity to flourish with her brother being in the spotlight. His heart hurt for the family they were, the girl she’d once been, and the sacrifices she made. But he sensed she’d locked up this story for a long time, and it had festered, like an abscess. In order for her wound to heal, it needed to be lanced. Shared. Purged.
“Did your dad notice?”
A tiny sigh escaped her. “No. But I don’t blame him. I know he loves me. I know he’s proud of me and what I’ve accomplished with Chic Publishing. He framed the cover of Fortune magazine and hung it in the living room. But Rick and Mom left a hole that couldn’t be filled, no matter how good I was. And maybe that’s okay. Maybe that’s the way it should be.”
He stopped. Tipped her chin up. Tenderness coursed through his body, his heart, his soul. She blinked furiously, her face a picture of confusion and sadness and longing. “I bet your mom and brother look over you every day, so damn proud of who you’ve become. Others would have sunk and given up. Whined and bitched and given excuses. You’re a hell of a woman, Riley Fox. A hell of a daughter. And a hell of a sister.”
She nodded. Accepting his comfort. Listening to the words and taking them deep to find a place where they could fit. He broke then, needing to touch her, protect her, make her happy.
The kiss was pure giving and comfort, but she turned it fast, grabbing on to him as if needing more. Dylan groaned and held her tight, his tongue plunging into her mouth and savoring her taste. The spark caught and exploded. He pushed her against the railing, ripping at the bulky clothes loaded with zippers and buttons, desperate to hit skin and give her the connection they both needed. She whimpered, and he swallowed it whole, managing to get the jacket open, sweater hiked up, and his fingers down her pants.
Holy crap, she was dripping wet and hot as his fingers hooked under the panties and sunk deep into her pussy. She bit down hard on his lower lip, but he didn’t break contact, moving his fingers and dragging them across her clit, pushing her higher even as she bucked and bit and moaned underneath him.
“Give it to me, Riley. Now. Give it all to me,” he demanded, twisting his fingers and slamming deep against her G-spot. And then she was coming, flooding his hand, while his mouth crushed her screams, never releasing the pressure they both craved. He kept his fingers inside her for a while, kissing away the one tear skidding down her cheek, murmuring inane nonsense in her ear while she settled. He kissed her, held her, and she relaxed completely in his arms.
“I need you,” he said. “In my bed. Naked. Open.”
“Yes,” she whispered. “I need that, too.”
Dylan tried not to shake as he fixed her clothes, took her hand, and led her out of the rink.
* * *
He moved over her, surged inside, and began the rhythm to break her apart so he could put her back together. Riley lived her life on her terms, but tonight there was nothing she couldn’t give him. A distant fantasy and memory of a man whose image never left her now claimed her completely. She knew it wasn’t real. Couldn’t be. But for these last few hours, Riley didn’t care.
She opened herself wide and met each thrust. Her lips opened to his tongue, her nails scraped down the muscled ridge of his back, drawing blood, making her own mark so tonight could be remembered. When her climax came, he commanded her to open her eyes. He was witness to it all—both brutal pleasure and the completion of the fall she’d started ten years ago at the first touch of his lips on hers.
She fell in love with Dylan McCray. Owned it. Relished it. Reveled in it.
She called his name over and over while her heart screamed out the words she refused to utter.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
* * *
The mingling scent of sex and musk and sweat rose to his nostrils in the sweetest perfume in the world. Dylan stroked her shoulder as she rested, staring at the woman naked in his arms, in his bed. How many times had he wondered what it would be like if they met again, yet recognizing they may never be able to transition the connection between them into the real world.
When he joined Kinnections, he’d been so hopeful. He was ready to settle down and find his forever. The team was incredible, noting every one of his points, and even digging under the surface until they found needs he didn’t realize he had. Most of his dates impressed him. Made him laugh. Engaged him in stimulating conversation. Many even caused a physical reaction that would’ve led directly to sex, or at least a lot of foreplay.
Usually after the first date, he realized the truth.
None of the women were meant for him.
Frustration beat in his blood, and he had trouble convincing Kate he wasn’t screwing around, wasting their time. How do you explain the search for something that many didn’t believe existed? The magic of a connection, a deeper knowledge you met the one meant for only you? Especially coming from a male, he’d be laughed out of Kinnections and by anyone who heard the ridiculous story. So, he made half-assed excuses and kept his mouth shut.
About a year ago, Dylan began to believe that kind of relationship didn’t exist. The depression he felt realizing he’d have to settle haunted him, but he promised to give the search a bit more time before he accepted the fact he’d never have what his parents have. How could he even understand what he was looking for when he’d never experienced it personally?
Tonight, the shattering conclusion of his journey shocked him to his core. Riley Fox was the one. The one he’d been searching for. The moment he buried himself deep into her body, clasped her hands, looked into her eyes, a low hum vibrated in his gut and spread throughout every inch of him, refusing to be denied.
It was as if he’d found his other half. His mind settled, his heart ripped open, and he gave himself to her with each stroke, binding her body to his in the most primeval way possible for a man to claim his mate. He craved to protect her, push her, fuck her, comfort her.
Love her.
Holy shit.
“You okay?”
He blinked as the sound of her voice broke his short-term panic attack. No way could he tell her that. Not so soon, after a few hours in her company. Somehow, knowing Riley’s sense of control and order, he figured his big news would have her launching herself naked out the window into a pile of snow.
He’d need to ease her into the same realization. Failure wasn’t an option, because this time Dylan wasn’t letting her go.
He pushed the hair out of her eyes and tucked it gently behind her ear. Her skin glowed, her lips were slightly bruised, and her eyes shone like a woman who was well satisfied. Dylan fought the urge to beat on his chest like a primate. “I’m better than okay.” He propped an elbow on the pillow and leaned his head on his palm, studying her. “How’s your head?”
She gave a low chuckle and stretched her leg. “Not my head I’m worried about right now. Other parts are taking up my attention.”
“Just what I like to hear,” he growled. “Can I tell you the fantasy wasn’t half as good as the reality? And trust me, I can spin a very dirty fantasy.”
“I bet you can.” She smiled, her face open and relaxed as she gazed at him. “I never knew it could—it could be like that.”
He pressed a thumb against her bottom lip, dragging it over the tender flesh. “Me, either.”
She wasn’t ready to hear the words, but he could show her in other ways.
Dylan spent the rest of the night showing her over and over again.
