by J. H. Croix
Ginger took a swallow and nodded. “This is Delia’s magic. You should hear Garrett go on about it. Delia swears he only wanted to marry her for this,” she said with a soft laugh.
Cam shook his head. “Nah. Garrett might love her cider, but that man is crazy in love with her.”
“I know. It’s so obvious when you see them together.” She experienced a twinge of sadness. Not because she wasn’t happy for Delia and Garrett. She was ecstatic for them, especially knowing Delia had all but written off love. Life as a single mother didn’t leave much room for men, but Garrett had found a way straight to Delia’s heart. Ginger’s sadness came from that place within her that had been so stupidly blind about her former husband. She loved seeing her friends find love, but sometimes she had to remind herself she was better off on her own.
Ginger set her cider down and pulled out a pot for the pasta and another for the sauce. She quickly got water boiling and stepped into the pantry for some tomato paste. In just a few minutes, she had added enough water to the tomato paste for sauce and set it on low heat while she chopped tomatoes and added spices to it.
While she cooked, they somehow managed to casually talk. Cam asked her questions about Diamond Creek, and she asked about places he’d traveled. She tried to be careful and avoid asking about his brother. It was so clear the other night that his grief over his brother’s death was still fresh. After talking a bit about his travels, he looped back to her.
“So you grew up here?” he asked.
“Born and raised in Diamond Creek. Alaska’s full of transplants, so you won’t find too many people who’ve been here most of their lives. I moved away for college and grad school, but I came home after that. It might be small, but Diamond Creek’s an amazing place. We have some of the most beautiful scenery in the world. With the tourists that flow through here, we have great restaurants and shopping. When I was away, I missed being in a small town. Sometimes it feels like everybody knows your business, but they care. I’ll admit when I was in high school, I couldn’t wait to move away. You know? The whole grass is always greener thing. After over six years away, I was more than ready to come back.”
Cam nodded. “I can see that. It’s nice you have a place that means something to you. Pretty much since I graduated high school, I’ve been traveling every few months and more. When I was in college, I was already competing, so I’d take weekends and travel to races. Once I graduated, that was my life. Sponsorships and prize money supported me.” His eyes clouded, but he took a breath and continued. “Eric took it more seriously than me, so he was almost always on the road. Before he died, I kept thinking I’d plan to back down from racing full-time and figure it out. I see someone like you and I kinda wish I had a place like Diamond Creek to anchor me.”
“Where’s your family?”
“Utah. Small town outside of Salt Lake City. My dad runs a gear shop, and my mom’s a librarian at the local library. I’ve been skiing as long as I can remember. I didn’t set out to compete, but I followed my brother into it. Next thing I knew, it was my whole life. We used to live in Salt Lake City before that, so I didn’t have my whole childhood in one place like you. Makes it harder to feel too attached to a place.”
She gave the sauce a stir and added the garlic she’d crushed. “Be careful. Diamond Creek has this bizarre effect on people where they come to visit and end up staying forever.”
He chuckled and took another gulp of cider. “That might not be all bad.”
Her heart did a funny little flip flop in her chest. The mere idea Cam might be here more than temporarily sent hope tap-dancing in her mind, trying to convince her it might not be too crazy to think she could try a relationship again. There was a gigantic maybe attached to that idea. Maybe? Have you completely lost it? I thought you weren’t going to worry about this attraction, like Marley said. Cam’s sexy as all hell, but it doesn’t mean you have to turn it into more than it is. Yeah, but it feels like there’s more. That last thought was the barely audible voice of her heart. It was hard to hear over the rather loud and authoritative voice of her rational brain, the part of her that held her together and got her through the humiliating months after her marriage was revealed for what it was. After years of being shouted over, her heart was trying to make its voice heard. She mentally batted the thoughts away and got busy checking the pasta.
A while later, she stood from the table and carried her plate to the dishwasher. Cam leaned back in his chair and set his fork down. “Wow. That was really good. I didn’t realize how hungry I was.” He lifted his mug as if to take a sip and looked inside before glancing up with a rueful grin. “Empty.” He pushed his chair back and stood, carting his plate to the dishwasher as well.
A gust of wind rattled the windows. George bounced off the windowsill in response and hopped past them into the living room and up the stairs. Cam watched him go with a grin. “He just hops around, huh?”
“Oh yeah. That’s pretty much what he does. He has a few places he likes to nap and some toys he plays with here and there.”
Ginger closed the dishwasher. “More cider?”
“Definitely.” He handed over his mug.
She filled his and then another for herself. Another gust of wind blasted against the house. Snow pinged rapidly on the windows.
“I’ll be surprised if we keep power the way it’s blowing out there,” she said, realizing she’d better accept the fact Cam was likely here for the night. In good conscience, she couldn’t expect him to drive anywhere in this. A part of her went taut with anticipation, her heart practically cheering. Yet another part of her was plain terrified. She was torn by the depth of her attraction to him and so unsettled by how easily her emotions had become tangled in her desire. Her chest tightened with anxiety. She wanted him so much, it shook her to her core. After sitting through a dinner with him, it was all she could do to breathe. Her pulse raced, her low belly fluttered every time his amber gaze landed on her, and heat suffused her. She prayed she wasn’t too flushed.
She handed him his cider and walked past him into the living room. “Have a seat,” she said, gesturing in the direction of the couch. She was somewhat minimalist when it came to furnishings and decoration. She had a charcoal gray sectional in the corner of the small living room. With the soapstone woodstove taking up the center, this allowed a view out the windows during daytime and a view of the fire at night if she had one. The television was mounted on the one portion of the back wall that didn’t contain windows. She had a few paintings on the walls and a muted purple throw rug on the floor. She set her cider down on the end table by the couch and knelt by the woodstove to start a fire. Just as she struck a match to light the fire, a vicious gust of wind rattled the windows again and the power went out. It flickered on and then off again. The flames took hold in the tinder under the logs she’d set inside the woodstove, offering a soft glow in the dark room.
“Saw that coming,” Cam commented, his gravelly voice sending a prickle of awareness up her spine.
Ginger brushed her hands off and stood. “I’ve got some candles scattered around. Let me light them, so we can at least see. Even if the power doesn’t come back on, this woodstove will keep the whole house warm.”
“Need some help?”
“Sure. Why don’t you get the candles in here lit?” she asked, gesturing to a few candles strategically placed on the end tables and in the corners on decorative stands. She snagged another long match from the materials she kept by the woodstove, passed it through the flames inside and handed it to him. “I’ll go get some more candles I keep in the kitchen.”
“Got it,” he replied, quickly moving around the room and lighting candles.
She strode into the kitchen to pull out a few emergency candles and left one burning in the kitchen and carried the rest out to the living room. They were the wide base type that required no holder. By the time they had all the candles lit, the living room was aglow in soft light.
&nb
sp; With the wind howling outside, Ginger poked her head out the front door to see the state of the snow and promptly shut it. It was a white out. A good foot or more had accumulated in the time they’d reached her house.
“Okay, you’re here for the night. It’s horrible out there.”
Cam had returned to the couch and was taking a swallow of cider. He set it down with a satisfied sigh. “I hope you don’t mind. If you do, I can leave. I could make it to the lodge in this weather. I’ve had plenty of experience driving in snow.”
She walked to the couch and sat down with a roll of her eyes. “So have I, but I’m not stupid. I’m not going to let you drive in this. You can’t see a thing out there.” She paused and looked over at him. He sat at an angle from her. He’d relaxed into the couch. Even in the dim light, she could see the etched muscles of his chest and abdomen through his cotton shirt. He appeared to live in cotton jersey shirts that hugged his drool-worthy body. He usually paired those with faded jeans. When she saw him skiing, he didn’t tend to go for the flashy bright colors many skiers did. He stuck with black. Right now, in the quiet of her living room with a fire crackling in the woodstove and the wind and snow swirling around them outside, it felt like they were in a cocoon. Her pulse kicked up a notch, and that inconvenient desire flared. His eyes held hers, and she felt as if he could see right through her to the wild desire beating its wings inside.
Restless and desperate to distract herself from the feelings Cam elicited, she set her cider down and tugged open a small drawer in the end table. “Cards!” she declared.
Chapter 8
Cam couldn’t help but laugh when Ginger triumphantly slapped the messy pile of cards between them on the couch. They’d been playing for a while now, and he’d promptly discovered Ginger didn’t mess around when it came to cards. He’d played his share of various card games over the years, but didn’t have much of a competitive streak for it. He managed to beat her in a few games of rummy, but otherwise she mostly trounced him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed this much. Nor could he remember ever being this attracted to anyone. Being in close quarters in the accidentally romantic candlelight sent lust coursing through him. Ginger had seemed tense at points earlier in the evening, but once they started playing cards, she relaxed. She was sharp, funny, and so damn beautiful, he had a hard time staying focused. Little did she know that was half the reason she was beating him so many times. His mind was mostly dwelling on the plump curve of her bottom lip and the generous curves of her breasts, which he glimpsed each time she leaned over. She wore a fitted cotton v-neck shirt that revealed the shadowed valley between her breasts.
He had all kinds of reasons why he shouldn’t let anything more happen between them, but at the moment, those reasons were weak and insubstantial in the face of his desire for her. He took a gulp of air and tried to draw reason in along with a breath, but all he could see was Ginger gathering up the cards with her hair falling around her shoulders as she leaned forward. She glanced up, her blue eyes widening when she met his gaze. The air around them sizzled with heat.
The cards slipped out of her hands and tumbled to the floor. His weak hold on reason dissolved when she scooted closer to him. “Oh hell, I’m kissing you again,” she said just before she slid her hand around the back of his neck.
Not only did he not bother resisting, he crashed his lips against hers the second her hand curled around his neck. The heat between them went from embers flicking sparks to an all out flaming fire. Her lips were so soft and so full. The feel of them against his was intoxicating. He’d been resting in the corner of the sectional. He leaned back and cupped his hands under her hips, pulling her onto his lap. She didn’t hesitate and turned into him, gasping when he pulled her closer. On her gasp, he delved his tongue into the warm sweetness of her mouth. Holy hell. Kissing her shredded his control. The combination of her boldness and sweetness and the feel of her lips and soft curves against him nearly drove him mad. He was rock hard and his pulse was pounding through him.
Ginger’s tongue tangled with his. She kissed with wild abandon. Every stroke of her tongue against his pushed him further over the edge. When she shifted in his lap and straddled him, want coiled within and lashed at him. He could feel the heat of her against his cock, despite the two layers of clothing between them—his and hers. She settled her hips against him and moaned into his mouth when he arched into her. He broke free from her mouth, desperate for a taste of that hint of strawberry and vanilla her skin carried. He blazed a trail down her neck with his lips, teeth and tongue. With every kiss and nip, she rolled her hips against him. Bolts of lust shot through him again and again.
All restraint gone, he dragged his tongue down into the valley between her breasts and slipped his hands under her shirt. Her skin was hot to the touch. All he wanted was to feel more of her. He shoved her shirt up, tearing his lips from her skin just long enough to yank it off and toss it on the floor. He paused to look at her. Her hair was mussed and fell in a loose tangle around her face. Her lips were swollen from their kisses. Her breasts rose and fell in unison with her breath, which came in rapid pants, matching his own shallow breathing. She wore a lacy black bra, which barely covered her full breasts. Glimpses of her pink nipples peeked at him through the lace.
With lust beating its drum inside of him, he forced his eyes up. He barely had any control, but he knew if he gave into the driving need to tear the rest of her clothes off, taste every inch of her and sink inside her, he needed to know she was as sure as he was. When he met her eyes, his heart clenched and a disconcerting sense of intimacy washed over him. He could hardly think for the pounding of his heart. Something flashed in the depths of her eyes.
“I’m not so sure I can stop if we go much further, so tell me now if you don’t want this,” he managed to say, his words rough and raw.
Her breath came out with a choked laugh. “I want this,” she said, her words husky.
***
Ginger sat there, straddling Cam’s strong thighs and feeling the pulse of his rock-hard cock against the center of her desire. The weak voice of reason within her appreciated Cam’s attempt to give her a chance to back out. Hell no. She wasn’t backing out of this. Maybe she’d tried to persuade herself she didn’t need men and didn’t need sex. But right here, right now, she wanted Cam fiercely and she wasn’t about to deny herself more of the pleasure she sensed he could give her. For crying out loud, she was on the verge of an orgasm sitting astride him with most of her clothes on. As she stared at him, her mind spun, trying to recall if she had any condoms anywhere if he didn’t happen to have some. Just when she was about to ask him, she remembered she’d hosted a bachelorette party for one of the teachers at school and someone had brought a bag full of sex toys, which conveniently included condoms. They’d been left here, and she’d stuffed them in the bathroom cabinet.
After he spoke, she couldn’t help the laugh that tumbled out. As if she could even consider stopping. “I want this” fell from her lips before thought could prevent it.
As soon as she answered him, his mouth hooked at the corner in that slow grin she was coming to adore. He lifted a hand and traced her lips before dragging his finger down along her throat, across her collarbone and dipping into the valley between her breasts before he circled one of her nipples. Her nipples were so tight, they were on the verge of pain. She needed him to give her relief, and oh did he ever. On the heels of his finger circling her nipple, he caught them both between his thumbs and forefinger and rolled them. Pleasure shot through her. Her head fell back on a moan when his lips closed around one. The moist heat of his mouth through her lacy bra drove her nearly wild. His tongue swirled a wet circle before he lightly nipped. A cry fell from her lips. When he moved to her other breast, the cool air against the wet lace notched the heat inside even higher.
Frantic, she shoved at his shirt, yanking it up and over his head. He tore his lips away and flicked his finger under the clasp of her br
a. When her breasts tumbled loose, she curled her arms around his shoulders, savoring the flex of his muscles under her hands and pulled herself against him. She sighed in relief at the feel of his hard body against the softness of hers. His head fell against the back of the couch, his eyes catching hers. His amber gaze melted her. The air around them shimmered, the heat between them sizzling.
His palms stroked down her sides, his thumbs coasting over her nipples, and came to rest at her hips. He flicked the button on her jeans and slid her zipper down. She rolled her hips against him, pleasure shooting through her as his cock nudged against her. She shimmied off of him. He arched a brow in question as she dashed away. “Hang on,” she called over her shoulder as she raced into the bathroom. She flung the cabinet under the sink open and dug through until she found what she was looking for. She yanked the condoms out and raced back into the living room.
Cam sat on the couch, his chest gleaming in the candlelit room. Her pulse, which had barely slowed, instantly rocketed wildly. She paused in front of him. He arched a brow again, and she held up the condoms. His eyes widened and then he chuckled. It occurred to her she should be nervous, considering she was about to have sex for the first time in over two years. Yet, with him, she just didn’t feel nervous. It helped that the attraction between them was too overwhelming for her rational brain to have any say. She tossed the strip of condoms to the table by the couch and moved to straddle him again.
His hands stilled her when he curled them around her hips. “Wait,” he said gruffly.
He hooked his fingers over the waistband of her jeans and dragged them down swiftly. She kicked them loose and stood before him in nothing but her oh-so-practical black cotton underwear. She could hardly hear over the pounding of her heart when he cupped her mound and stroked a finger across the cotton between her legs. Her breath caught and a moan fell from her lips. He set to stroking back and forth, back and forth, all the while she nearly melted into a puddle. She was slick with need. He finally dragged her underwear down and slipped his fingers into her drenched folds.
