Holding On: A Colorado High Country Novel

by Pamela Clare

  God almighty, he turned her on.

  “Is the water okay?”

  “Perfect.” He reached past her to grab the soap, lathered his hands, and began to wash her. “I love the feel of you.”

  He lingered on her breasts, cupping them with soap-slick hands, teasing her nipples with his thumbs, plucking the pebbled tips with his fingers.

  “Oh, yes.” Her head fell back, her hands grasping his hips for balance, warm water sluicing over her hair.

  His touch was gentle and arousing and nothing short of torture, every caress making the ache inside her worse. When his hands finally left her breasts and moved down to her belly, she moaned in protest.

  He chuckled, kneeling before her to spread soap over her legs, magic fingertips tickling her inner thighs and the backs of her knees, his gaze sliding over her body until it fixed on the most private part of her.

  “God, Kenzie.” His brow furrowed, as if the sight of her were some kind of torment. Then he stood, rinsed her, and kissed her hard. “Are you feeling clean yet?”

  “I think I’m feeling dirty, thanks to you.”

  That made him grin. “Good.”

  “Your turn.” She traded places with him, took the soap, and washed him, lingering on the flat brown discs of his nipples, savoring the feel of his abs and obliques, squeezing the hard mounds of his ass.

  Then she dropped to her knees as he’d done.

  She soaped his legs then took him in hand, stroking his length, watching the tension on his face, his fingers sliding into her hair. She would have gone down on him right there—she wanted to taste him—but he was too tall.

  He must have read her mind. “I appreciate the thought, honey, but that’s not going to work in here.”

  Short girl problems. They were real.

  They rinsed and stepped out of the shower one at a time to dry off, Kenzie’s body humming with sexual urgency.

  She grabbed the box of condoms and took a step toward the bathroom door, but Harrison scooped her into his arms.

  “Oh!” Startled, she held on, not used to being carried like this.

  “Don’t worry. I won’t drop you. I’ve had backpacks that weigh more than you do.” He carried her to her bedroom, holding her against his chest, his gaze fixed on her face every step of the way, his eyes dark.

  Good freaking heaven! Was he even real?

  He lowered her to her bed and stretched out above her. “I want to make you feel good. Tell me what you like.”

  She started to say something about how he was doing fine on his own, when he lowered his mouth to one of her nipples and sucked, a rush of pleasure turning her words into a whimper. Her fingers found their way into his damp hair, desire burning through her until she had to have him inside her.

  “Fuck me. Now.”

  He grinned, shook his head. “Patience.”

  Without breaking eye contact, he kissed his way down her body.

  Her pulse quickened. Was he going to—?

  He got to his feet at the foot of the bed, took her by the ankles, and dragged her slowly toward him, kneeling on the floor and pushing her thighs wide apart.

  “Oh, God.”

  He was.

  She covered her face with her hands, the anticipation almost too much as he parted her, his gaze hot upon her.

  Then he tasted her, a single slow lick.

  She gasped, her hips bucking at the shock of it, her fingers flying down to catch in his hair.

  He moaned. “I love the way you taste.”

  Another slow lick.

  She whimpered.

  Then he lowered his mouth to her—and suckled.

  “Oh … my … God.”

  The heat of his mouth. The sweet suction. The caress of his lips on her clit.

  She fought to hold still. “That … feels … so … good.”

  No man had ever done it exactly like this before, the pleasure almost too intense to bear. She arched, wiggled her hips, twisting to get away, but she didn’t want to escape—not really. He pressed his forearm across her hips to hold her still, his mouth relentless. There was nothing for her to do but give in. Then he slid a finger inside her, stroking her, stretching her, stoking that sweet ache.

  She came with a cry, orgasm washing through her in a surge of bliss, lifting her up and up and up and leaving her to float somewhere beyond the sky.

  For a time, she lay there, her eyes closed, her body warm and languid.

  When she felt Harrison’s weight shift, she opened her eyes.

  He had torn open a condom wrapper and was rolling the condom down the length of his erect cock. His gaze met hers. “Are you sure you want this?”

  She reached for him. “Shut up, and fuck me.”

  Conrad settled himself between Kenzie’s thighs, his heart thrumming, her musky scent filling his head, her taste still on his tongue.

  She lay beneath him, looking beautiful, her dark hair fanned out against the pillow, her breasts flushed from her climax, her pupils wide. She took hold of his cock to guide him, moaning as he nudged himself inside her.

  Even through the condom, she was heaven—slick, hot, tight. “Oh, God.”

  He pushed himself deeper until he was buried inside her and then held himself there, giving her time to adjust to the feel of him—and giving himself a chance to relax and get his body under control. He’d never been a minute man, and he sure as hell didn’t want to start with Kenzie.

  She gave an impatient whimper, lifted her hips, urging him on. “Please.”

  He ducked down, kissed her. “I love a woman who knows what she wants in bed—especially when she wants me.”

  She laughed, but her laugh became a moan as he drew his hips back and thrust into her again. “Oh.”

  “More?”

  “God, yes.”

  He got into a rhythm, keeping it slow, withdrawing almost all the way before thrusting deep again. It had been so damned long. Something swelled inside his chest to see the erotic bliss that unfolded on Kenzie’s face each time he rocked into her, and somehow that made it easier for him to hold on.

  Holding his weight off her, he kept an easy pace, her response as enthralling as it was arousing. Her parted lips. The little sounds of pleasure coming from her throat. Her half-closed eyes. The flush in her cheeks. The sweet bite of her fingernails where they dug into his biceps.

  “Harrison.” She wrapped her legs around his waist, opening herself to him fully, her hands sliding up to his shoulders, her hips meeting his, thrust for thrust. Her every exhale was a little cry now, a look of sexual anguish on her face.

  Faster, harder.

  Orgasm began to build at the base of his spine, and for a moment he tried to think his way through tying a figure-eight retrace.

  Tie a single eight in the rope two feet from its end, then pass the free end through the tie-in point. Retrace the original eight with the free… God, yeah.

  Ah, hell.

  He couldn’t focus on knots when he was inside Kenzie.

  He shifted his hips so the base of his cock grazed her clit, hoping to speed her up and slow himself down.

  Her eyes flew open in surprise, all ten fingernails biting deeper into his skin at once. “What … are you …? Ohh.”

  Her words unraveled, became a moan, her eyes drifting shut again.

  He fought to keep his pace steady, willed his glutes to relax, watching the pleasure on her face, the tension in her building, her body going taut.

  Kenzie, sweet Kenzie.

  She gasped, her breath catching for the briefest second before she cried out, the ecstasy that washed over her face a glimpse of paradise, her inner muscles clenching around him, driving him closer to that shimmering edge.

  He stayed with her, eager to give her all the pleasure he could. Then he shifted his hips again, sliding deep inside her. This time, he didn’t hold back, driving into her faster, harder, until pleasure crashed over him, carrying him home.

  For a time, he lay there, still inside he
r, his body replete, nothing in his world but the two of them—the pounding of his heart, the soft feel of her beneath him, the tickle of her fingertips tracing lines along his spine. If it had been possible, he’d have stayed like this forever. But it couldn’t be comfortable for her. He outweighed her by almost a hundred pounds.

  The condom.

  Shit.

  He raised himself up, kissed her. “I wish I could sleep inside you.”

  “Mmm. So do I.”

  He took hold of the condom and withdrew from her, tossing it in the trash and wiping off with a tissue. Then he turned toward her again and drew her into his arms, a strange sense of tenderness settling behind his breastbone.

  She rested her head on his chest. “Your heart is beating so fast.”

  He stroked her hair, kissed the top of her head, not sure what to say, afraid of what might come out if he opened his mouth. “That’s your doing.”

  “Is it?” She sounded happy about that. “You’re incredible, Harrison.”

  “Why do you always call me that?”

  “Why do I call you Harrison? I don’t know. Maybe because it’s your name?”

  “I’ve never liked it.”

  “Well, I like it.”

  “Are you a Star Wars fan like my mom?”

  Kenzie laughed. “Is that where she got your name?”

  “Yeah.” It had always embarrassed him. “I shouldn’t have told you.”

  She grew serious for a moment. “Do you want me to call you Conrad like everyone else does?”

  He kissed her forehead. “You can call me whatever you want.”

  “How about Harry?”

  “Except that.” Never that.

  “Harrison, then.” She reached down to cup his balls—not what he’d expected, but that was fine. He could go with that kind of flow. “Cheyenne would be so happy if she could see you now.”

  Um… “What?”

  “Someone—Rose, of course—told her you and I had gotten together. She pulled me aside at Knockers and asked me whether you were as hung as she’d always thought you were. I told her I had no idea.”

  Conrad lifted his head, looked down at Kenzie. “Are you serious? Cheyenne really said that?”

  “She did.” Kenzie was obviously amused by this.

  “Are you telling me that the good women of Scarlet talk about men’s dicks?”

  “Yep—some of them anyway.”

  “Okay. Good to know.” He settled his head against his pillow, chuckling. “What are you going to tell her?”

  Kenzie lifted her head this time and stared up at him. “I’m not going to tell her anything. What’s between us is private and … special. I wouldn’t cheapen it by gossiping about your anatomy with anyone—even if you are hung like a horse.”

  Conrad couldn’t help it. He burst into laughter, Kenzie laughing with him, the two of them rolling on the bed in a tangle of limbs.

  The conversation took random turns after that—the mole on her right breast, the fact that he’d never been circumcised, the way their height difference all but disappeared when they were both lying down.

  “I guess that means I need to keep you in bed,” she said.

  “That’s fine by me.” As he drifted off to sleep, Conrad felt a kind of peace he hadn’t known in a very long time.

  Chapter 11

  It took Kenzie a moment to realize that the awful noise stabbing her ears was her alarm clock. She reached over to turn it off, but Harrison beat her to it, reaching over her with a big hand and giving the snooze button a hard smack.

  “Ignore it.” He wrapped an arm around her waist and drew her back against him, nuzzling the sensitive skin at her nape, that same big hand moving to cup her breast, his fingers lazily teasing her nipple.

  She tried to think—not an easy thing when she was still half asleep and getting more turned on by the moment. “What day is it?”

  “Hell if I know.”

  “Monday.” Damn. “I have to get up.”

  He pressed his hips against her, his erection hot and hard against her bottom, his hand still playing with her breast. “Are you sure?”

  “I have to open the kennel, and I’ve got a private lesson in Boulder at ten.”

  “I guess I’ll have to make this quick.”

  Anticipation shivered through her. “Okay—but not too quick.”

  He chuckled, releasing her breast and reaching down to cup her. He’d just gotten started between her thighs when he stopped, lifted one of her legs, and drew it back to rest on his thigh. “You gotta let me in, honey.”

  He stroked her clit, teased it, flicked it. “Show me what you like.”

  She reached down to guide his fingers, increasing the pressure. He was a fast learner, and she soon left him on his own. “Just … like … that.”

  Then he slid two fingers deep inside her, moaned. “You’re wet.”

  “That’s your fault.” She closed her eyes, lost in the magic of those sweet thrusts.

  Then he withdrew his fingers from her and reached over her to pull a packet from the box of condoms on her nightstand. She heard the wrapper tear, felt him shifting behind her as he rolled the condom down his length.

  It seemed to take forever. “Hurry.”

  “Is this what you want?” He nudged his cock into her, stretching her to delicious fullness with a single, deep thrust.

  “Oh, yes.”

  He began to move, his fingers reaching down to stroke her clit again. “I love how you feel inside.”

  She might have told him she felt the same about him, but she was beyond words, the combined sensations almost too much to bear—the hard in-and-out of his cock, the silky glide of his fingers over her clit, the hard press of his body behind her.

  In this position, there was nothing she could do but ride out the pleasure as he drove into her, hard and fast, each thrust carrying her closer to climax. And then she was there, hovering above that incandescent edge, pleasure drawing tight inside her.

  She shattered, bliss scorching through her as sweet and bright as a sunrise, Harrison driving her climax home with powerful thrusts. His breath caught and then broke, his body shuddering as he joined her in paradise.

  They lay together for a moment, him still inside her, the two of them catching their breath.

  Kenzie found herself smiling. “If all Mondays began like that, the whole world would run around saying, ‘TGIM—Thank God It’s Monday.’”

  He chuckled, kissed her temple, the hand that had brought her so much pleasure skimming its way up her belly. “I think we can work on that.”

  He withdrew from her, turning to drop the condom in the trash bin.

  She rolled over to face him, reluctant to leave his side, tenderness for him filling her chest. “You’re wonderful. You know that, right?”

  He ran a thumb over her cheek, started to say something.

  Behind her, the alarm clock went off again.

  Had all of that happened in only five minutes?

  Wow.

  Harrison wasn’t just good at climbing.

  “I don’t want to get up—not when you’re in my bed.” She gave him one last kiss, then rolled over, turned off the alarm, and sat up. She’d gotten up once in the middle of the night to let Gabby out, but the poor little thing couldn’t hold her bladder for more than a few hours. “I need to let the dogs out.”

  “I can do that. You get ready for work.” He got out of bed, standing there in his full, naked glory, glancing around. “Where are my jeans?”

  “In the bathroom, I think.”

  “Right.” He turned and left the bedroom, his bare ass a work of art, those muscular mounds shifting as he walked.

  You’re staring.

  Hell, yes, she was staring.

  She took a quick shower and dressed and then followed the delicious aroma of coffee downstairs to find Harrison making scrambled eggs, Gizmo and Gabby eating kibble side by side, tails wagging.

  Uh-oh.

  He p
ointed with a nod of his head. “Look how well they’re getting along.”

  She hated deceiving him. “Great. That’s progress.”

  Kenzie and Harrison ate together—scrambled eggs, toast, coffee. They talked about her day and then his.

  “I guess I need to write some kind of resume. Moretti says Ski Scarlet is hiring for Ski Patrol for the season.” He didn’t seem excited by the idea.

  “Is that something you would enjoy?”

  He tossed back the last of his coffee. “It’s a job.”

  No, not excited at all.

  He helped her clear the dishes from the table, and then it was time for her to go.

  “Thanks for breakfast—and for last night.” She slipped into his arms, uncertainty niggling at her, taking the shine off the elation she’d carried with her through the night.

  She had no idea how Harrison felt about her, whether this was a one-time hookup or whether he wanted more from her. She wasn’t sure he knew.

  I’ve got nothing to offer you and no idea where my life is going or what the next few months will bring. I can’t promise you much, but I’ll never mistreat you.

  She kept her next words light. “Can I entice you to come over for dinner? I don’t have any classes tonight.”

  He looked down at her, the hint of a smile on his lips. “What’s on the menu?”

  The tone of his voice left Kenzie no doubt that food was the furthest thing from his mind.

  Conrad ought to have noticed the green Subaru Outback parked on the street in front of the house, but his mind was filled with Kenzie, her sweet scent still on his skin. A stupid grin on his face, he parked in his driveway, climbed out, and walked around to the rear of the vehicle to retrieve Gabby and her crate—only to find a kid in a baseball cap and red parka standing there waiting for him.

  The kid held up his cellphone to take a photo. “Hey, Conrad, man, I heard you were back. When did you get into town?”

  Conrad didn’t recognize him. Was he a local? “A couple of weeks ago.”

  Conrad opened his vehicle and reached in for Gabby’s crate, hoping the kid would leave now that he’d gotten his photo.