by S. L. Scott
“Sure, you do.” An underlying smile elicits mine. He kisses my forehead. “I don’t know what you’ve done that makes you so bad, but I feel you. I see you. The beating heart, the soft smiles, the stars in your eyes, and the love letters you write with your fingertips on my skin.” He holds me tighter, sliding his big hands to cover my lower back. “And you know what?”
“What?”
“I feel the same, cactus flower.” I’m kissed right where I need it most—on the lips. And I kiss him back, unbuttoning his shirt as he undoes his pants. When he’s removed everything from his lower half, he bends toward me, raising his arms as I strip off the wet undershirt sticking to his skin, then he straightens up again.
The clothes are kicked to the corner and I’m pressed to the wall, my face cupped, his middle against me. As steam fills the shower stall, he turns his attention to my lower body and kneels before me. Lifting one leg over his shoulder, he then cups my breasts and squeezes while his mouth takes me between my legs. Then he looks up at me with what looks like reverence and says, “I don’t deserve you.”
And I melt.
Steam billows around me as I lean my head back, mouth wide open as I pant from the pleasure. I’ve never felt freer to react to a sexual act than the extent he allows me. Moans steadily escape me as his tongue dips inside.
I hold his head as my knees start to wobble, and my body begins to slide down the marble behind me.
His hands pin my hips in place, and he steals a peek up at me before diving deeper and teasing my pleasure right out of me. “Oh, God. That feels so good,” I say, my voice feeble as I reach the edge of the orgasm.
“You deserve to feel so good, Winter. You deserve everything good.” With one more lap against me, he has me sailing off the cliff to the heavenly skies into pure bliss.
Standing breathless before me, he holds my body as I get my bearings again. When I’m picked up, I wrap my arms and legs around him, our mouths making love as he carries me to the bed. The top of my head tips off the end of the mattress, and he kisses my body all over—chin, neck, collarbone, between my breasts, my ribs where he pauses. When I look up, I see a frown, and then anger crosses his face. He kisses me there again, this time tenderly before he continues leaving a kiss on each side of me before he goes lower to my belly. Spreading my legs, he kisses my inner thighs, and then I’m bare as he reaches into the drawer of his nightstand.
Returning before the cool air of the room sets in, he runs his hands up my legs and back down, lifting one up and kissing my ankles. I close my eyes, wanting his mouth selfishly savoring all of me again and relishing in the sensations. His body hovers above me, his erection pushing into the embrace of my body. Tilting my head back, I can feel his heated breath on my chest. And then I’m with him, moving against him and matching him breath for breath, thrust for thrust.
I scrape my nails over the back of his shoulders and greedily beg for more—faster, harder—more.
More.
More.
He focuses his strength on the goal, and like my head is on this mattress, I’m tipped over the edge the moment his fingers find my sensitivity, encircling my swell for him.
A groan follows as he finds what he’s seeking deep inside me. I hold his head to me as my name flows like poetry from his lips across my chest. The kisses are less insistent, lingering longer, tasting the love we made until our lips meet again and our tongues slow dance.
“Dream a Little Dream of Me” plays in the back of my mind, and I kiss his temple before he has a chance to escape. I’m so close to saying those three words that I’ve never felt more than at this perfect moment. I love his weight balanced on me, and the connection we’ve made.
After another shower and getting ready for sleep, we slide under the covers again. The bed’s so huge it doesn’t even matter if he claims the center, but I still tease, “Bed hog,” which makes him chuckle. He turns off the lights, and my eyes grow heavy, despite wanting to stay up and listen to him breathe and dream. Wrapped up in each other, I add, “We don’t need this big bed when we’re sleeping like this.”
Spooning. It’s been so long . . . wait . . . this might be a first for me. A satisfied smile splits my cheeks. Doesn’t matter that he can’t see, he can feel my body vibrating with happiness.
He kisses my shoulder. I let myself begin to slip into a contented sleep. Just before I’m lost to the dream world, he whispers, “This is my favorite.”
20
Bennett
Ethan flips through the file in front of him, scanning the pages with the speed of a Jedi, possibly becoming one with the mind trick that tech billionaires develop after hitting it big. “This says she’s been unemployed for a year.”
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “We’ll ask her when she gets up.”
“How do you not know? You spent seven hours in the air and an entire night with her. How could you not have talked about the men who were after you?”
“Ethan?” Singer rests her hand on his arm, drawing his attention. When he looks at her, she adds, “Please be patient. You’ll get your answers shortly. A lot happened yesterday, and they were tired.” Standing, she moves behind him and rubs his shoulders. She looks at me, her smile full of empathy. “I don’t want you fighting each other. This isn’t business. This is personal. You must stick together.”
“Where does that leave Winter?” I ask.
Ethan leans back, relaxing under the shoulder massage. “If you trust her, so do we. As for how we proceed, we’re relying on you to tell us what you want us to do. Aaron will join us when you’re both ready to go over the details.”
Aaron, Ethan’s mercenary driver, has taken over security for the family in the last year. Making sure we’re covered in some capacity is his top priority. Lars is the expert at securing locations since he was at one time a former Secret Service agent for a government figure. They make a hell of a team.
“In the meantime,” Singer says, “we should go and let them start their day without an audience.”
“You don’t have to leave on my account.” I turn to see Winter walking toward us tentatively. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”
I stand quickly to greet her. Shielding her from the others, I adjust the baggy shirt back onto her shoulders as she tugs at the strings to the sweatpants, tightening until the fabric bunches at her waist. I lean down and caress her face. “Good morning, beautiful.”
“Good morning,” she replies, holding my wrists as I kiss her. When I begin to pull back, she holds me there. “I didn’t know you had company.”
“My brother and sister-in-law.”
Running her hand down her hair, she lowers her voice. “But I look a mess.”
“You look incredible. Anyway, they know about our circumstances when we left France. They’re here to get security in place.”
Her hand rests on her chest as she peeks around me. “All right.”
I take her hand, hoping to calm the nerves making it shake. I’m ready to introduce her but stop. “We don’t have to do this now.”
“I’m fine. I really am.”
I have to trust what she tells me. We also need answers, and it seems we’re only going to get them from her. “I’ll be here for you every step of the way.”
“Thank you.”
Ethan and Singer are standing halfway between the table where we were sitting and the door. “Winter Nobleman—”
And then it happens too quickly for me to stop it . . . She curtsies and then takes Singer’s hand, shaking it vigorously. “It is so amazing to meet royalty.”
I cringe inside on her behalf but speak up. “This is my fault. Singer’s not the princess.”
Winter’s head whips to face me. “What?” And then horror and embarrassment redden her cheeks and neck. To Singer, she says, “I’m so sorry. Bennett mentioned a princess lived down the hall.”
Singer smiles and reaches for Winter’s hands. “It’s okay. I understand how this could happen.” Tilting her hea
d to the side, she adds, “Ally is the kindest person I know. And she has a good sense of humor. She’ll enjoy this story, but she’ll like meeting you more.”
“Thank you.” Laughing, Winter leans forward, holding her stomach, and then says, “I’m so sorry again.”
“No worries. For real.”
Hearing Singer say “For real” reminds me of Winter saying it last night. I think they’re going to get along just fine.
“This is Ethan,” I say.
“Wow, that’s all I get. Thanks, man, for the stupendous introduction.” He chuckles and holds out his hand. “Hi, I’m this guy’s older brother and boss. It’s very nice to meet you, Winter.”
“Can you tell how much he loves being my boss?” I ask.
Winter nods. “Yes.” Turning to me, she asks, “Any coffee?”
“Yes.”
“We’ll leave you two alone so you can wake up properly. Although I’ve always found it’s easier to fly back and gain hours versus losing them, jet lag sucks,” Singer says.
“Me too,” Winter says as I walk them to the door. “Nice meeting you.”
“You too.” Right before the door closes, Singer adds, “Let me know if you need anything.”
“We will. Thanks.” I shut the door and then return to my girl. “How about a proper good morning?”
“I like proper, but you know what I like better? Improper. Right. After. Coffee.”
I laugh, following her into the kitchen. “That’s fair, but just know I’m going to hold you to that.”
“I expect to be held in all kinds of positions.”
Taking hold of her, I roam my hands over her back and lower until I reach the curve of her ass and squeeze. “Where have you been all my life?”
“Right here in this big city waiting for a giant to show up and rescue me.”
“You didn’t need a hero. You were doing fine on your own.”
“That’s because you don’t know the full story.”
“And that’s something we’re going over today. Let’s get you coffee and get dressed. Can I make you breakfast?”
“Coffee’s good.”
“How about food? You need food, Winter.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“I’ll toast bagels.”
She shoots me a look that I think is meant to level me, but it makes me smile instead. “I don’t eat bread or carbs in general.”
“How do you not eat carbs? It’s brain food.”
Tapping her head, she says, “Yet I’ve managed to survive, cogs working at full speed.”
“I watched you inhale cookies in my room and a fry.”
“Those were one-offs. You make me crave things I shouldn’t.”
“I think your body wants carbs.”
“My body wants you.” She leans against the island, her body language challenging. She may only come up to my chest, but she’s currently owning every inch of her height. Even adding a little with that raised chin of hers.
“And as much I like that, you can’t survive off sex.”
“We could try,” she replies optimistically.
Wow, she’s red hot this morning. “Did I leave you wanting last night? If I did, I’ll make it up to you.”
Wrapping her arms around me, she says, “No, but you can still make it up to me.”
“Right after breakfast.” I go to the fridge and open the door. Letting all the cold out despite my dad’s voice running through my head about air conditioning the entire neighborhood when I was young, I search for something a no carb eating, feisty, sex-craving beauty might want. There’s a limited selection since I’ve been gone, so I reach for the few things Singer brought for us and load them onto the island.
“Yogurt. Strawberries. Blueberries. Cheese. Pineapple cups. Eggs. Pick your poison.”
Crossing her arms over her chest, she rests her hip against the marble counter. “Why are you so insistent I eat something when I’m not hungry?”
“Because I listened to your stomach growl all night. Because you haven’t eaten in close to sixteen hours.” Moving in, I pick her up by the hips and set her on the island before wedging between her legs and holding her by the ass. It has absolutely nothing to do with eating or feeding her, but just because I can, and I’m going to take full advantage of loving on this woman while I have the chance.
“Did you eat?”
“I ate a few hours ago.”
Her eyebrows rise. “How long have you been up?”
“I don’t know,” I reply, checking my watch. “Four hours, I suppose. I ate and worked out with my brothers. Ate again then showered and got dressed before Ethan and Singer came over.”
“You packed in a heck of a full day before ten. I must have slept hard. I didn’t hear a thing.”
“You got a good nap in on the plane too. Your body needs the rest.”
She toils with the foil lid of the yogurt but doesn’t open it. “If I eat this, can we go back to bed?”
“I have no problem with that compromise.”
“Can I ask you something and will you be one hundred percent honest with me?”
I rub her back, and say, “Absolutely.”
“How long can we be like this?”
“And by this, you mean what?”
“We’re hiding in this high rise like Paris didn’t happen.”
“We’re in my apartment because Paris did happen. We may need to perfect our ending, but we had a damn good start.”
She kisses me and then rests her forehead on my shoulder. “We sure did. You’ll stay with me when I talk to your security people?”
“I promised to protect you and to be there every step of the way, and I will.”
Holding my face close, she says, “Anytime I’m in your way, just tell me. I don’t want to be a burden, no matter how much I want to stay.”
“You want to stay?” I can’t hide the happiness that slips into my tone.
“If you want me to.”
“I very much want.” You.
“For a few days?”
I hate that she feels insecure. I need to do a better job of making her feel what I do. “Winter, I want you here so we can work through how we can protect you, and how we can make the threat against you go away. That’s the first goal. But I also want you here for me. Call me selfish, but I don’t want to contemplate the idea of you walking out that door and not being in my life. Just so you know, I want you here for more than a few days.”
I expect a quip of some sort to come from her beautiful mouth, but she’s strangely silent.
I’m not most men. I can handle her erupting moods and conflicting actions. I can handle the words she uses to stab others, wanting them to cut through the tension like a blade. I can handle anything she throws my way because underneath this defensive armor of hers, I still see the woman whose eyes light up from the sight of the Eiffel Tower sparkling at night. A woman who clasps her hands over her heart while admiring a statue of two kissing lovers. I see the woman who shared her darkest secret, the one that buries her under the memories and fell in love because she confided that secret to me.
She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen when she drops her weapons and trusts me. I see when her expression morphs. The cynical look in her eyes lightens in the blue centers, the pinch of her lips releases, and her chin lowers. The tension in her shoulders softens, and her stance isn’t so staunch.
I touch her cheek, and she lets me. “Will you trust me, Winter?”
Her eyes dip closed, and she licks her lips. When she looks up at me again, a swell of moisture fills the corners. “I do trust you. Already. That’s what scares me.”
“Don’t be scared. We’re in this together.”
“And then what?” she asks skeptically.
“And then we finally get to live and be whoever we want to be.”
“We, huh?”
I rub the side of her neck and then lower my hands to her hips, giving them a little wiggle and getting a giggle
in return. “Did I overstep?”
“No. I like the sound of we.”
“Good.” I kiss her head, and then say, “I like the sound of you being here, especially that little snore you do.”
Feigned offense jolts her head back. “I do not snore.”
She pulls away, but I catch her wrist and bring her back in, this time dipping her. “Doesn’t matter. I like it. You know why?”
She can’t hide her smile, though I see her struggling to. “Why?”
“Because you have a great body.”
I’m punched in the chest. “I meant why do you like that I snore, you big goof?”
“Ohhhh.” I knew what she meant, but it’s great to hear her laughter. “Because it means you feel safe to sleep that deep.”
“It’s the bed.”
“Okay.” I kiss her. “It’s the bed and not me. Gotcha,” I tease with a wink.
As soon as I set her on her feet again, she’s off down the hall. “I’m getting dressed.”
“Your clothes were cleaned. They’re in the bathroom.” As much as I hate her walking away, she does a damn fine job of it.
But before she disappears completely, she turns back and sees me still standing there like a buffoon. She must feel sorry for me because she comes running into my arms, legs linked around me, and kisses me hard. When we stop to catch our breath, she says, “It’s not the bed. It’s you. Don’t ever think otherwise.”
Like a flower, she’s slowly opening for me petal by petal, and it’s a damn gorgeous sight to see.
21
Winter
My clothes are folded neatly in a pile on the counter. So neat that I wonder who washed and folded them. Does the giant have fairies and gnomes working for him? I wouldn’t be surprised.
This apartment.
His success.
Him.
It’s all a bit more overwhelming than I thought it would be when I was thinking about what I was doing on the plane. I’m still not sure if I made the right decision, though Bennett feels really right to me. But did I put us both in jeopardy by leaving Paris?
I don’t know what Kurt wants with Bennett or his brothers. Did my father, or I put him on Kurt’s radar? I’ll never forgive myself if I’m to blame. Hopefully, we can get the answers before anything else happens because I’m not sure how long Kurt will leave me be, and I’m not naïve enough to think he’ll just let the fact that I left go.
