by Shel Stone
Groaning, Esme dropped her head down on a pillow. Why did she always mess things up? And the worst was that she still wanted Inns to wrap his arms around her. A notion Aggie would probably laugh at. “Well, Ricky hates me now.” They were quiet for a moment. “Do you really think Annabel is bad for Inns?”
“God, you’re a twit. They are literally perfect for each other, and they’re going to have nasty little snobs for children who’ll promote the return of feudalism. Seriously, Esme, you don’t know these people. Inns left because you weren’t good enough to play with his friends. You’re not the right pedigree.”
This wasn’t new. Inns had been less brutal is saying it, but he’d been honest about it. And truthfully, Esme hadn’t cared, because she hadn’t thought she’d actually cared for him. Turned out that she had a habit of caring for the people she shouldn’t. It was a theme she seemed to return to. “I know you’re right,” she conceded.
Maybe she had forgotten how much he’d hurt her, even as he’d been saying he did it so he wouldn’t hurt her. And now she’d gone right back and torn open that wound.
Inns was likely furious with her. This would be all her fault, exploiting his weakness. It was his weakness, there was no doubt about that, but was she at fault if she exploited it? Not that she had. She’d kind of fallen to pieces for a moment. It wasn’t as if she’d purposefully gone in to break up him and his girlfriend. There had been no intention on her part whatsoever. It had just happened.
Which really sounded lame. “I really shouldn’t have,” she admitted.
“Hey, we’ve all done stupid things with our exes. Better the one that rejects you than the one that wants to destroy you.”
“Why do I have such utter shit taste in men?”
“You know, I think the quality of men is generally on the poor side. A good one is by nature rare, and when they do exist, they’re completely loyal and stable in their relationships, so you just watch them pass by, blissful in their happiness.”
For a moment, Esme wondered if she was talking about Quentin. That he was loyal and happy with his kiwi girlfriend wasn’t hard to see. It had to be hard for Aggie seeing him so happy after leaving her behind. Maybe it would be hard for her to see Inns deliriously happy with Annabel, but he just didn’t seem to be.
Chapter 33
THE AIR WAS DIFFERENT when Samara arrived in St. Moritz. A small bus was taking them to their resort and all around was blinding snow. The sky was crisp blue, a kind of blue that the haze of the Mediterranean didn’t have.
The hotel was beautiful, large and ornate, nestled in a valley with the dramatic mountain background behind it. Slowly the bus pulled up inside the covered portico and they were met by smartly uniformed staff and led into a sumptuous lobby.
Fashion for skiing was unique. It was hard to make a padded suit look good, but she had found a nice copper jacket with a fur collar. Cheyenne wore white with a fur hat, and Viola wore an electric blue ensemble. Persephone wore a nice dusky pink suit with rose gold mirrored glasses. It was a challenge making ski gear look good, but they had all done well.
Tristan wasn’t traveling with them, having left prior for some business he had in Zurich, but was joining them for dinner apparently. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t curious about spending time with him, or seeing how he would act on this trip. There had been some indication that he was interested, and she still felt the excitement of it.
A young man showed her to her room, which was beautiful if not a little on the bland side, but the view was spectacular. The mountains were such drama, weren’t they? It was foreign territory for her, she had to admit. Skiing wasn’t something Hassan embraced, so they hadn’t really been to any of these resorts. They’d been to the economic conference in Davos once, but that was a completely different thing.
Her phone pinged, drawing her attention. A drink? it said. Tristan’s face accompanied it, and she felt that little thrill that never seemed to go away when someone interesting sought her out. He was here earlier than she’d expected and she wondered if it meant he’d foregone some of his business to come see them, or rather, and more excitingly, to come see her.
Picking it up, she typed a reply. I could do a drink.
Lobby bar in 5?
No point in replying now, and it never hurt to keep a man guessing. She would be there in ten, even if she’d assured herself she was not playing games with men anymore. It was all face value, take it or leave it.
Still, she changed into an outfit not hampered by the limitations of extreme cold temperatures. Instead choosing cashmere and a pair of thick leggings, and high boots.
Tristan, when she saw him, wore a vest under a long black jacket with silver buttons. He looked wonderful, she had to admit. Unlike Hassan, who always had to bash the senses with his luxury, this was understated, but so very attractive.
“I see you made it. How was Zurich?” she said as she arrived and kissed him on the cheek. It felt that slight bit awkward, but they should perhaps progress to kiss-on-the-cheek familiarity. And he smelled lovely too. In fact, it would be a lie to say that she wasn’t responding to his presence. In a way, it was a shame they weren’t here alone, but one had to progress to such things.
There was definitely an ache in her for a bit of romance. Romance had seeped away quite some while ago in her marriage with Hassan. Loyalty and consideration had its own comforts, but what was more exciting than romance.
“It was fortuitous, but it also felt a little tedious when there was something much more... revitalising to come.” It was a good word. “What will you have? I can recommend the wassail—a spiced cider.”
“That does sound interesting. I do like anything spiced.”
Tristan ordered and Samara watched him, watching him move, the confidence, the focus when he returned his attention to her. He wasn’t looking around the room for whatever eye-candy he could spot like so many men did.
“I have to admit, I’m enjoying being in a ski resort again. I’ve forgotten how relaxing it can be. During my university days, I came at least once a year, and some time after. Lately, I pursued any such activities.”
“I believe you said you enjoy skiing.”
“It can be exhilarating.” That was a good word too. Exhilarating was how this felt. “But it is the company that makes it magical.” That was not a bad word either. Snow fell outside the darkening window. A fire roared not far away, the odd crackle, piercing the gentle murmur around them.
“I am glad I am here to discover it,” she said with a smile.
“There is a nice little restaurant a little further away from here, I believe. Would it be terrible to sneak away from the others, do you think?”
“Most definitely. But that shouldn’t hold one back.”
Her drink arrived, which turned out to be quite a delight, with warm, spiced apple cider. A thin slice of apple floated in it.
“I do enjoy the snow,” he continued. “It has a silence that you can’t get anywhere else. If you have a coat, we could walk to the restaurant. If I recall right, there is a pleasant stroll for the daring.”
“Can't get anywhere without a bit of risk.”
“That is definitely true.”
After finishing their drinks, Samara went to her room and retrieved her jacket, returning downstairs to see him dressed in his dark coat. He looked mysterious and captivating.
It was cold and silent when they stepped outside, darkness pressing in as soon as they moved away. The town of St. Moritz was like a jewel in the darkness, sparkling lights and the gently falling snow. It really was magical.
A path led down to the road, but Tristan stopped a few steps down. Was he changing his mind? He leaned closer and soft, gentle lips met hers, stroked softly so a frisson went down her entire body.
“I’ve wanted to do that for quite a while.”
Her thoughts in turmoil, she tried to collect herself. Such a simple kiss, but she had felt it in every part of her body. The icy coldness around
her, and the warm ghost of a kiss on her lips. That was quite something. She may have to insist on another.
Chapter 34
SAMARA LOOKED UTTERLY STUNNING when they reached the restaurant, rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes. Her skin and hair dewy from snow.
The maitre’d took their coats and they were shown to a seat in the back of the small, low-ceilinged restaurant. He’d called ahead while she had collected her jacket, and had requested a table with as much privacy as possible.
It was a nice restaurant. Better than he remembered it, from when he’d once sworn he’d take a girl there someday. An ambition completed, it would seem. He hadn’t been wrong on the suitability for an intimate dinner.
They ordered wine and appetizers. The food was more German than French, it turned out, but that suited the atmosphere and the temperature well. The meal was good, the wine was dry, but nowhere near as compelling as the woman with him. Her face was just beautiful. In fact, there wasn’t a thing about her that wasn’t appealing. Most importantly, that wasn’t all there was to her. Samara was the whole package, someone he could actually talk to. Neither vacant, nor completely intellectually focused. Someone who could be an actual partner. That was what he hoped, at least. So far, it seemed a possibility.
“So if not the snow, where have you spent your time?”
Samara went on to talk about her life, including her marriage to Hassan Azmer. Her tone suggested she was accepting of the marriage’s end. Perhaps even relieved, he wondered. “I do like the desert,” she said, and Tristan noted he’d been too distracted watching her to take in everything she said. “It has something very romantic to it, primal even.”
They were quite different in their experiences. “Then perhaps it should be your turn to guide me.”
The food was hearty and the wine was delicious. They chatted endlessly about every topic possible. They ended up talking about Munich and why he’d chosen to live there. Granted, some of it was related to the ease of living and the nearby airport. It was ultimately central, without the traffic issues of Paris or London—at least in his neighbourhood.
Samara opted to skip dessert, so Tristan ordered a cheese platter instead. Then it was time to return to the hotel. The walk back was desolate and quiet. For a moment, it felt as if they were the only two people around.
He could make her laugh, which had a satisfaction all its own. Her humour suited his. At times he found himself simply watching her.
Again he stopped to draw her near and she didn’t hesitate. He felt her anticipation as he leaned down to claim her lips. The taste of her had hints of wine, but he lost himself completely in the lushness of her lips. His whole body responded, feeling elated as he drew her nearer. The kiss deepened, and baser instincts took over.
“Come to my room,” he said breathily as the kiss broke, feeling the earnest desire deep into his bones, begging her to say yes. It felt like it had been so long since he’d had a true connection with someone. It had been long since he’d felt hopeful. And maybe he was being a bit greedy, wanting to take it a step further. He just wanted her so much.
Instead of responding, she kissed him, and again his mind was drawn down into the sweetness, chasing away every thought from his head. It would be torture if that was all he was allowed, having to return to his room alone, wondering what they had together.
“Alright,” she said and he almost couldn’t believe it.
A certain relaxation overcame him, because he knew he had her. If there was any confirmation that she was interested, it was agreeing to spend the night with him. And right now, he was grateful, maybe even luxurious in that he could savour this for a moment.
They bypassed the lobby without being distracted by anyone they knew, and headed straight to the lift. Anticipation was so heavy, he could feel it in every part of his body, waiting in the eternally slow lift.
Touching her back gave little satisfaction through the thick material of her jacket. But as soon as he unlocked the door, he drew her to him and drew the zipper down to access her warm, soft body. Lips drew him to her and he lost himself in the deliciousness.
This felt right, felt like the only place he wanted to be. Her breath in his ear sent pleasure down his spine. He was so hard, it hurt.
Her hands were urging his jacket off, unbuttoning his vest and he took a moment to watch her enjoy the unveiling. His body was in good shape. He was too disciplined to let himself go.
“Uhmm,” she exhaled as her warm hand splayed along the skin of his abdomen. It was the most luscious sound he’d heard and he sought her lips again, delving deeply into her mouth and drawing her closer. The softness of her breasts, the warmth of her mouth, the maddening scent of her. She had to be his. Maybe she was the one he’d been searching for. Not actively perhaps, but there had always been a part of him searching for his equal.
Her soft hair scrunched in his hand as he drew her closer still, her soft body to his hardness, but she drew away from him and walked into the room, divesting herself of her jacket and then her shirt. He watched as she undressed, her boots and then shirt. Down to her bra, shiny silk with a sheen in the muted light of the room.
She was utterly perfect, her even skin and smooth body. Pushing off the wall, he moved to her, but she urged him to sit back on the bed, where she straddled him, still wearing the thick white leggings. Her skin looked like caramel, and it tasted just as sweet. Rolling her hips, she ground to him and a deep groan escaped him.
Her fingers pushed him back and he complied, watching as she unhooked her bra, revealing her lovely breasts. She swatted his hand away as he tried to touch, returning her hands to splay across his abdomen and rolled her neck back as if she was overcome with pleasure. Just watching her was glorious and he was even in threat of releasing early, something he hadn’t suffered from since his teenage years.
The rhythmic grinding of her hips wasn’t helping. It really would overcome his control if he wasn’t careful. His fingers sought the button of her leggings and then slowly pulled down the zipper, his attention fixed on the revealing skin, then the matching silk of her underwear.
Leaning over, her nipples grazed along his chest, his muscles and skin contracting as she kissed his neck. As far as he was concerned, Samara was passion embodied. A goddess who would take from him as she wished, and this was all a bone-deep delight.
It was almost too much as his hand snuck underneath the material of her pants to cup the smooth skin of her backside, her body grinding against him.
“Mercy,” he pleaded and she smiled, her tongue stroking within the kiss she placed on his shoulder. It was just too much and he was seriously in threat of spilling like a youth. Granted, it had been a while, and even longer with someone who turned him on deeper than the most superficial physical level.
Her lips traced lower, leaving a scorching hot trail, his body tensing with every kiss. A deep pulse shook through his whole body, his cock ticking with it. He felt his breath as she revealed him, so sensitised he felt the air currents from her movement.
When she closed her mouth around him, he lost all semblance of thought. The stroke of her tongue had his release soaring through him, pulse after pulse into her hot mouth. On some level he was mortified, but it felt so good.
“Sorry,” he said when he calmed and his mind started working again. “You test my control to an embarrassing degree.”
“You are running hot,” she said. “Better this way, I think.”
Oh, yes, because now he could focus on her. If he’d just embarrassed himself with an uncharacteristic lack of control, the only way to sooth this shame was to return the favour. He wasn’t entirely without skill, and he was going to make her pant for him.
Chapter 35
RICKY FELT A LITTLE STUNNED after his coffee with Solraya. The pregnancy revelation had taken him by surprise. The coolest girl he’d ever met was pregnant, which meant motherhood and baby, and a whole future involving a kid.
Truthfully, he couldn’t even comprehend i
t. How was that for luck? He’d found someone who tickled just about every part of him, and she was focused in a completely different direction, embarking on another stage of life.
His aim had been to encourage her to stay, see where things could go, but she was heading to total domesticity. Fuck.
Not that he was anti-domesticity, or even kids, but it was something he vaguely saw in the distant future.
Sitting on his small balcony, he peeled the label off his beer. It was hot and he sat sweating with his shirt off. Obviously, he could close the balcony door and turn on the air-conditioning, but he didn’t feel like it.
For a moment, he wondered if he should call Aggie and talk to her, but about what? About how the girl of his dreams was otherwise engaged. Not just that, but she was moving to Australia. Also, he wasn’t sure where he stood with Aggie now that he and Esme had broken up.
For the first time, he wondered if coming back to Marbella had been a good idea. Not that there was anywhere else particularly calling him. The truth was that he felt lost. Was this it, just bouncing around between people, working clubs and living in shitty apartments? All told, his life was a success based on what he’d set out to do.
Coming here was supposed to solve everything, but he was still aimlessly bouncing around. The only thing that had really drawn him had been Solraya, and she was effectively disappearing.
And she was just so hot and cool, and chilled. But she was heading off somewhere he didn’t know, or understand, and he wasn’t simply talking about Australia.
Enough, he thought, and got up. Whenever he had shit to work out, he headed to the gym. It was a short drive, but working out always got his mind off his problems, and made him feel good.
It was a quiet day at the club, the weight room only had a few old timers working on the sparse remains of their physique. That was going to be him one day, but he couldn’t imagine what his life would be like. In fact, he couldn’t even think what his life would be like in a month. The same as now, he would assume.
