Man Feast (Bergen Brothers Book 2)

by Krista Sandor

  “Who the hell are Dean and Jemima?”

  She winked. “That’s us.”

  He chuckled. This woman! “Are you narrating a porno?”

  She lifted her hips. “This, Mr. Largecox, is a work of erotic fiction.” She took him into her hands and positioned the tip of his hard length at her entrance. “Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.”

  Holy fuck! She was making a legal disclaimer sound sexy as hell.

  She lowered her body, enveloping him in her tight heat. “Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.”

  He pressed his fingertips into her supple skin. “What does Dean Largecox do for a living?”

  Elle closed her eyes and rolled her hips. “He’s a lumberjack.”

  “What about Jemima Sex Kitten?”

  A naughty grin bloomed on her lips. “She’s the CEO of the lumberyard.”

  It wasn’t that much of a stretch. Buried deep inside her, he was ready to give her the controlling shares of Bergen Enterprises.

  She picked up the jar, dipped her finger inside, and rubbed the cream onto his chest. “Your skin gets so dry chopping down all that hard wood. Let’s get you nice and moist.”

  She rocked her body, riding him in smooth, measured strokes. Her back arched and her breasts bobbed gently with each thrust.

  She was poetry in motion.

  Or in their case, erotica in motion as he guided her body, dialing up the pace as his thumb rubbed her sensitive bundle of nerves.

  “I see you’ve brought me a special piece of your hardest wood.” She moaned.

  “Elle?” he bit out, growing closer to release.

  “Yeah?”

  “I secretly always wanted to be a lumberjack,” he growled, setting a heated, frenzied pace.

  “I can tell,” she replied and pressed her palms to his chest as their bodies met in a feverish, sensual slap of skin on skin.

  “Look at me, Eleanor,” he demanded, the pressure building.

  She met his gaze.

  “I want to watch you fall apart,” he whispered, tightening his grip on her ass.

  Her lips parted as her body tensed, and she flew over the edge and met her release. Listening to Elle moan his name, he followed her as wave after wave of warmth rushed through him. He pumped his hips, lengthening her orgasm as they hovered in that place made only for the two of them, gazes locked.

  No one brought out this side of him. He didn’t even know he had this side of him.

  “Jasper,” she breathed, part prayer, part demand.

  She rolled her hips once more, then collapsed onto his chest. Breathing hard, she tucked her head in the crook of his neck, and he wrapped his arms around her. Still connected, they stayed like that, blanketed in vanilla and honey and cocooned in the golden glow of the treatment room.

  “You’re a very convincing lumberjack,” she whispered against his neck.

  He sighed and tightened his grip. “You’re a damn good CEO, Jemima Sex Kitten.”

  “Did you like that?” she asked.

  He stilled. He liked it more than she’d ever know. It was as if she’d taken his hand and allowed him to step outside himself. Outside the pain. Outside the guilt. She’d opened a window and bathed him in the light of letting go.

  “Yes,” he whispered.

  She shifted her body and stroked his cheek. They gazed at each other, frozen in time until a gentle knock cut through their delicious sex haze.

  “Your car’s here, Mr. Bergen,” came a voice from the other side of the door.

  “Thank you. We’ll be right out,” he called, harnessing his CEO tone as Elle’s body tensed. He stroked her hair. “What is it?”

  “We probably shouldn’t mention this to anyone—especially Abby or Brennen since they already think…” she trailed off.

  She was right. This was insane but so was cutting himself off from anything that brought him even an ounce of pleasure—and then he remembered their arrangement. The man feast.

  He shifted their bodies and sat up, keeping Elle on his lap. “There’s nothing to mention. This is the man feast extension we discussed.”

  “Right! An extension. Like if you happened to sneak into my bedroom tonight. That would be…”

  He kissed her neck. “Simply an extension of the man feast extension.”

  She bit her lip. “A double extension.”

  “Is that something you’d be open to, CEO Sex Kitten?”

  “Oh yes,” she purred.

  “You know all those pastries my grandmother had flown in?”

  She nodded.

  “I’m going to sneak into your room tonight, and we’re going to reenact the Oreo situation.”

  She traced his abdominal muscles. “Except with strudel?”

  He ran his hand down her silky-smooth back. “Every last slice of it. The man feast is on.”

  10

  Jasper

  Jasper opened his bedroom door and stepped into the darkened hallway. It had been years since he’d been here with a house full of guests. They’d grilled hamburgers and chicken breasts, and the savory smell lingered with the scent of the hickory wood popping and crackling in the fireplace.

  He and Elle had gotten back just as the group had gathered to eat. He’d worried someone would have inquired as to why they’d returned to the cottage together. But no one said a word. With the excitement of Brennen and Abby’s wedding plans and everyone enjoying having Bodhi in the house, no one seemed to notice Elle’s kiss-swollen lips and mussed hair.

  But holy fuck, he did.

  The entire group had stayed up chatting, sitting around the fire pit, roasting marshmallows like they used to do when he was Bodhi’s age.

  The blessing of being a closed-off hollow bunny was that no one expected him to contribute much to the conversation. In the firelight, he’d watched Elle all evening. Watched her gesture and hold the group’s attention as she enchanted everyone with her tales of travel to Tibet and Thailand.

  Brujería. Witchcraft. Whatever the hell it was, it worked.

  A little over a day ago, the thought of this woman contributing anything worthwhile to Bergen Enterprises seemed as likely as a blizzard in July. And while he couldn’t relinquish all creative control, he knew that was because when he was with her, her witchcraft transformed him into someone else. Something more than the hard-driving workaholic.

  It made him whole.

  This silly man feast. This crazy contractual way to justify being with her, touching her, making love to her, was one of the smartest business decisions he’d made.

  He took his phone out of his pocket and checked the time. At almost quarter to one, he was reasonably sure everyone had fallen asleep until the door next to his swung open and a wild-haired Bodhi Lowry stared up at him.

  “Where’s my mom?”

  He patted Bodhi’s shoulder. “She’s asleep, buddy—just like you should be.”

  The boy scrunched up his face. “Why aren’t you asleep? Did you have a bad dream, too?”

  Jasper scanned the darkened hallway. “No bad dreams. I was…thirsty.”

  Not a complete lie.

  The boy’s eyes widened. “I’m thirsty, too! Will you get me some milk? Mommy always gets me a glass of milk then sings me a song when I wake up from a bad dream.”

  Jasper glanced down the hallway at Elle’s door. “How about this. I don’t think I’m as good of a singer as your mom, but I can help you out with the milk.”

  “Okay,” Bodhi answered, taking his hand.

  Jasper stilled as memories of his father came back to him. How many nights had he walked hand in hand with his dad down this very hallway after waking from a bad dream? Like Bodhi, he’d had nightmares as a child. Run of the mill generic monsters under his bed or something scratching in his closet, but his father was always there, gently waking him, softly letting him know he was safe in bed. />
  Bodhi looked up at him. “Will you stay with me?”

  “Sure, bud,” he answered, guiding the boy down the hall and into the kitchen.

  He flicked on the light then stopped. Elle met his gaze, holding a plate piled with apple strudel slices.

  She glanced at Bodhi and bit back a grin. “Are you guys here for a midnight snack, too?”

  Elle’s hair hung in loose waves, and she wore a pair of sleep shorts, fuzzy slippers, and a worn gray Fell’s Peak Ski Resort T-shirt, and his pulse kicked up.

  She’d never looked more lovely.

  His mind flashed to Sunday mornings. A day no different than any other for him. Up early. Punishing workout. Starched shirt. Yogurt and peanut butter toast. But instead, he pictured those slippers thrown haphazardly on the floor next to his bed—the bed where she slept in his arms, her hair tickling his chin as she sighed in her sleep and cuddled in close to him.

  “Jasper, can we have a snack with Elle?” Bodhi asked, pulling him from this alternate universe where Elle Reynolds belonged to him.

  “Yeah, let’s have some milk and strudel, too,” he answered, unable to pull his gaze away from her.

  Elle led Bodhi over to the couch in the great room overlooking Bergen Mountain and went to pour three glasses of milk.

  He carried the cups into the room and found Bodhi cuddled in close to Elle. Outlined by the moonlight, she patted his head and hummed softly. This is what he must have looked like on the nights when his mother would join them on the couch after he’d woken up from a nightmare. He’d tried so hard to stay awake, wanting to savor the moment, warm and safe tucked between his parents, watching the beams of light from the snowcats traversing the dark side of the mountain.

  He sat down next to Bodhi and handed the boy his glass.

  The youngster took it with two hands and gulped down the milk.

  Elle patted his knee. “You’re a thirsty bird.”

  Bodhi rubbed his wrist across his mouth, wiping away the milk mustache. “My mom says I’m a milk machine.”

  Jasper held up his glass. “I’d say she’s right. Do you want mine, too?”

  With a nod of his head, Bodhi handed Elle his empty cup and started in on his second glass. He drained the liquid, pulled the cup from his lips, then released a rather impressive burp.

  Elle chuckled. “Do you feel better?”

  The boy nodded, eyes growing heavy.

  “Do you want me to take you back to bed?” Jasper offered.

  Bodhi shook his head. “I’m still scared.”

  Elle rubbed the little boy’s shoulder. “What was your bad dream about? My mom always says talking about a bad dream will make it less scary.”

  “In my bad dreams, I’m falling and falling,” the boy answered.

  Elle pursed her lips. “And then you wake up before you hit the ground, right?”

  He nodded.

  She wrapped her arm around him. “You don’t need to be frightened by that one. It’s just a skydiving dream. Do you know what skydiving is?”

  A look of wonder crossed Bodhi’s face. “Yeah! Have you ever done it?”

  Elle nodded. “A bunch of times! I did it not long ago when I was in Thailand for my job.”

  Bodhi turned to him. “Have you ever done it, Jasper?”

  “No, Bodhi, I like riding in airplanes. But you’ll never see me jumping out of one.”

  “So, you’ll never try it?” the boy pressed.

  “No.”

  Jasper schooled his features. Honestly, was life so boring that people needed to jump out of planes? The entire skydiving industry seemed like a giant liability.

  Elle leaned in toward Bodhi, conspiratorially. “Jasper just doesn’t know what he’s missing. Now, I’m going to tell you what it’s like, and you’re going to tell me if your falling dream is similar.”

  Bodhi nodded.

  “When you skydive, you put on a harness and wear a backpack called a rig that holds your parachute. That’s important! That part probably isn’t in your dream,” she said, tapping the boy’s nose.

  The child grinned. “Nope, no harness in my dream.”

  “That’s okay. Let’s keep going. First, you get on a little plane that fits about four people and a pilot, and then they take you up way into the sky.” Elle raised her hand, mimicking a takeoff.

  Bodhi copied the gesture with sound effects.

  Elle grinned. “Once the plane is high in the sky, and you’re about ten thousand feet up, all the buildings and cars look teeny-tiny, and it’s also very peaceful.”

  “Peaceful?” the boy parroted back.

  “Yep! You see the land stretched out for miles and miles. And that gets you thinking about all the nice people in all the different places around the world.”

  “I have a globe in my room at home.”

  “So, you know it’s a big world.”

  The boy nodded sagely.

  “Then it’s time to jump. You hang out of the plane. It’s windy, and your tummy gets all ticklish. And then, you let go.”

  “Like jumping off the high dive?”

  “Just like that,” Elle agreed.

  Bodhi’s smile disappeared. “But on the high dive, I know I’ll land in the water.”

  Elle’s expression grew serious. “With skydiving, what’s different is that you fall a little longer and then a parachute brings you safely to the ground.”

  Jasper cleared his throat, and Elle shot him a glance.

  Bodhi didn’t look convinced.

  “Do you want to know what I like to think about when I’m skydiving?” she asked.

  Jasper bit back a grin. “I hope the parachute works?”

  She threw him another look, but the playful glint in her eyes softened the rebuke.

  She smiled at Bodhi. “I pretend I’m a bird.”

  “Like an eagle soaring?” he asked.

  “That’s right! I feel the air all around me. I have the best view of the whole city, and I imagine that I’m free of anything that scares me or makes me nervous. So, the next time you have that falling dream, instead of being scared, you can pretend you’re a bird.”

  Bodhi yawned and leaned into Elle. “I could be a California condor or a hawk.”

  “That’s right,” she said as the boy yawned again.

  He closed his eyes. “Or a falcon.”

  “Or a seagull,” Elle whispered to a now sleeping Bodhi. She stroked the boy’s hair then glanced up at him. “This isn’t what you were picturing when you proposed the midnight man feast extension.”

  Jasper was about to answer when Bodhi shifted in his sleep. He scooted in closer to keep the boy from tipping over. Shoulder to shoulder with Elle, he wrapped his arm around her, then glanced at the plate teeming with strudel. “I’m not sure what you were expecting to happen with all that.”

  “You said you wanted to reenact the cookie scenario,” she answered, innocently.

  He chuckled. “You’ve got to have about a pound of strudel on that plate.”

  Her lips curved in a sexy grin. “I know you’ve got the stamina.”

  He twisted his finger into her silky hair. “There’s always the extension to the extension to the extension.”

  “I can agree to those terms.” She glanced at the little boy. “But I think we’re on Bodhi duty tonight.”

  “The timeline for the extension is open to negotiation. Not to mention, we’re staying in the same mountain house, and I’m currently residing in your building in Denver.”

  She held his gaze. “Wow! You’ve thought this through.”

  Jesus! Had he? Yes, she’d been all he could think about, but there couldn’t be anything more than the man feast, could there?

  “You really wouldn’t try skydiving?” she asked, leaning her head on his shoulder.

  “No, someone in my position can’t behave like that.”

  She tensed.

  Dammit! He’d done it again—dished out that buttoned-up bullshit she’d called him on.
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br />   “But I used to pretend I was a bird when I was a kid,” he added, trying to soften the blow.

  She relaxed a fraction. “You did?”

  “Yeah, when I skied with my brothers. I loved slicing through the trees. The icy air. The speed. Finding that narrow twisting trail and flying down the mountain. I used to find it exhilarating.”

  “You don’t do it anymore?”

  “What, ski?”

  “Yes, ski.”

  He shook his head. “No, not anymore.”

  “Do you miss it?”

  That was a loaded question. His wants and desires disappeared the day his parents died, and obligation and duty to the Bergen brand took over.

  “That’s not how my life works.”

  “Even CEOs are entitled to miss things, Jasper.”

  The muscles in his chest tightened. He’d miss this.

  He’d miss her.

  Elle sighed, her slow breaths matching Bodhi’s. “Maybe you just haven’t found anything you want worth the risk.”

  He wanted to give in. He wanted to allow her witchcraft to set him free. But as he gazed out at the mountain he was responsible for running, his throat tightened.

  Nights hidden away in cabins.

  Days spent at the spa.

  This wasn’t his life.

  His life was Bergen Enterprises. The rebranding project would end, and she’d go back to her world of travel and excitement, and he’d go back to boardrooms and bottom lines. The man feast was simply a respite, an anomaly created out of temporary circumstances—and the childish extensions had to end.

  He stared out at the gliding points of light dotting the mountain then shifted his gaze to the faint outline of the three of them reflected in the window. Despite knowing the man feast couldn’t go on, he tightened his hold on Elle and released a pained breath.

  The problem wasn’t that he didn’t have anything in his life worth the risk. What sent a shiver down his spine was that he just might have found it. But he couldn’t have Eleanor Reynolds, and the only way to end it was to revert to his hollow bunny ways and break her heart.

  11

  Elle