After Hours with Her Ex

by Maureen Child

“Yeah,” the boy said and shot his girlfriend a quick grin. “We are.”

  They left as quickly as they’d appeared.

  “Well, that was embarrassing.” Lacy blew out a long breath, straightened her sweater and stepped back from Sam so she wouldn’t be tempted to leap at him again.

  “Lousy timing,” he mumbled, his gaze locked on her.

  “I think it was pretty good timing,” she said, though her body disagreed. Another minute or two of Sam’s kisses and she might have forgotten everything. Might have just given in to the need still clamoring inside her. Oh, there was no might about it, she admitted silently.

  She’d wanted to be touched, kissed, loved. She’d wanted Sam as she had always wanted him. Knowing better didn’t seem to help. Lacy had nearly drowned in the sea of her own anger and misery when Sam first left. To survive, she’d clawed her way out then closed and locked the door on those feelings, good and bad. She had had to forget—or at least try to forget, just how much she loved Sam.

  Life would be a lot easier right now, she thought, if she’d only been able to hold on to that anger. Instead, it was the heat of lost love she felt, not the ice of pain.

  “Lacy...”

  “Don’t,” she said, holding up one hand and shaking her head. Talking to him was almost as dangerous to her as kissing him. His voice alone was a kind of music to her, that seemed to seep into her heart and soul whether she wanted it to or not. “Just...don’t say anything.”

  “I want you.”

  “Damn it,” she snapped, walking now, with long strides, moving toward the light and sound of the party, “I asked you not to say anything.” Especially that.

  “Not saying it doesn’t change anything.” He followed her, his much longer legs outpacing hers easily.

  She whipped her head up to look at him. “This was a kiss, Sam. Just a kiss.” It had been more and she knew it but damned if she’d admit it to him. Heck, she wasn’t entirely comfortable admitting it to herself. “We were both strung a little tight and the tension snapped. That’s all.”

  If that were true, she told herself, she’d be feeling a heck of a lot better right now. Instead, she was wound tighter than ever. It was a wonder her body wasn’t throwing off sparks with every slam of her heartbeat.

  He moved closer and Lacy held her ground. Probably dumb, but she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of thinking that she couldn’t handle being near him. Especially since she couldn’t.

  “If those kids hadn’t come crashing around the corner, we’d still be having at each other.”

  “Call it fate,” she said with a shrug that belied the tension still coursing through her. “Someone somewhere knows that this shouldn’t have happened and they were cutting us a break.”

  “Or trying to kill me,” he said, and one corner of his mouth lifted, though there wasn’t a sign of humor in his eyes.

  “The easy answer is,” she pointed out, “keep your lips to yourself.”

  “I never did ‘easy.’ You should know that.”

  “Not fair,” she said, shaking her head and giving him a hard look. “You don’t get to do the ‘remember when’ thing with me, Sam.” She backed up a step for good measure, but when he followed that move, she didn’t bother backing up farther.

  “It’s our past, Lacy,” he reminded her, his voice dropping to a low, sexy rumble.

  “Past being the operative word.” Lacy sighed and told herself to gather up the wispy threads of what had once been her self-control. “There’s nothing between us anymore, so you shouldn’t have kissed me again.”

  “Wasn’t just me,” he reminded her, and a cold wind whipped around the edge of the building and lifted his dark hair. “Won’t be just me when it happens next time, either.”

  The band finished one song and the pause between it and the next hung in the sudden stillness. When the pounding beat of the drums kicked in once more, Lacy forced herself to say, “It won’t happen.”

  “You said that the last time and yet, here we are.”

  She had said it. At the time, she had meant it, too. Lacy didn’t want to get drawn back into the still-smoldering feelings she had for Sam. Didn’t want to put herself through another agonizing heartbreak. It was just a damn shame that her body didn’t have the same resolve as her mind.

  “Why are you kissing me at all, Sam?” She asked the question again because she still didn’t have an answer. “Why do you even want to? You left me, remember? You walked away from us and never gave me another thought. Why pretend now that this is anything more than raging hormones with nowhere else to go?”

  He looked at her, but didn’t speak. But then, what could he say?

  With her words hanging in the cold, clear air, Lacy turned and walked hurriedly back to the safety of the crowd, losing herself in the mob of people.

  * * *

  By midnight, the party was over. Everyone had gone home or to their hotel rooms and the mountain was quiet again. The Snow Vista crew had taken care of cleanup, so all that was left to clear out in the morning were the booths that would have to be disassembled and stored until the next time they were needed.

  The mountain was dark, but for the sprinkling of lamplight shining through windows at the main lodge and surrounding cabins. The sky was black and starlit, leaving a peaceful, serene night.

  In contrast, Sam felt like a damned caged tiger. He couldn’t settle. Couldn’t relax. Just like he couldn’t get Lacy out of his mind. She remained there, a shadow on his thoughts, even when he knew he shouldn’t be thinking of her at all. Even when he knew it might be easier for all of them if he just did as she asked and left her alone.

  But hell. Easier wasn’t always what it was cracked up to be. He’d grown up skiing the fastest, most dangerous runs he could find. Memories crowded his mind. But they weren’t of skiing. They weren’t of him and his twin, Jack, chasing danger all over the mountain. These memories were all Lacy. Her kiss. Her touch. The way she laughed one night when they’d walked through a snowstorm, tipping her head back and letting the fat flakes caress her cheeks. The shine in her hair, the warmth of her skin. All the things that had haunted him for the past two years.

  Every moment with her stood out in his mind with glaring clarity and he knew he wouldn’t be able to stay away from her.

  Leaning against the doorjamb of his cabin, he looked through the woods toward Lacy’s place. What had once been their place. There were lights in the windows and smoke curling lazily from the chimney.

  His guts fisted. This was the hardest part of being home. Facing his family had been tough but being close to Lacy and not with her was torture. Leaving her had torn him up, coming home was harder still. A couple of kisses had only fed the banked fires inside him, and yet, all he wanted was another one.

  “No,” he muttered, one hand tightening on the wood door frame. “You want more than that. Much more.”

  He thought back over the past several days and realized that beneath the lust was a layer of annoyance. The Lacy he had left behind two years ago had been cool, calm. And crazy about him.

  Sam could privately admit that he’d half expected her to jump into his arms with a cry of joy when he came back. And the fact that she hadn’t, stung. Not only that, he had thought he’d be dealing with cool dispassion from her. Instead, there had been temper. Fury. Which, he had to say, was arousing. He liked that flash of anger in her eyes. Liked the heat that spilled off her whenever they were together. And he knew Lacy liked it, too.

  She could argue all she wanted, fight what lay simmering between them, but the truth was, she still felt it, whether she wanted to or not.

  Those kisses proved him right on that score.

  Now his skin felt too tight. There was an itch inside him—damned if he’d ignore it any longer. This all began and ended with Lacy, he told himself.
When he left Snow Vista two years before, he’d been wrapped up in his own grief and fury. Losing his twin had sliced at Sam’s soul to the point where even breathing had seemed an insurmountable task. He’d deliberately exiled himself from this place. From her.

  He’d picked up Jack’s dreams and carried them for his dead twin—believing that he owed it to his brother. But dreams were damned empty when they weren’t your own. Now Sam was back. To stay? He didn’t know. But while he was here, he and Lacy were going to straighten out a few things.

  Behind him, the heat of the room swelled, while in front of him, the cold and the dark beckoned. And he knew that whatever was between him and Lacy, it was time they settled it. He reached back to snatch his jacket off a hook. He was shrugging it on as he stepped into the night and closed the door behind him.

  It didn’t take him long to cross the distance separating his cabin from hers. And in those few moments, Sam asked himself why the hell he was doing this. But the simple fact was, he had to see her again. Had to get beyond the wall she had erected between them.

  Stars were out and a pale half-moon lit the path, though he didn’t need it. He could have found his way to Lacy’s place blindfolded. On her wide front porch, he looked through the windows and saw a fire in the hearth, a couple of lamps tossing golden puddles across a hardwood floor. And he saw Lacy, curled up in a chair, staring at the flames as flickering shadow and light dazzled over her.

  Even now, his heart gave a hard lurch and his body went like stone—but then, passion had never been a problem between them. He knocked on the door and watched as she frowned, pushed to her feet and walked to it.

  She opened the door and her features went stiff. “Go away.”

  “No.”

  Lacy huffed out a breath. “What do you want?”

  “To talk.”

  “No, thank you.” She tried to close the door, but he slapped one hand to it and held it open.

  He stepped past her and walked into the main room, ignoring her sputter of outrage. “You should close that door before you freeze.”

  Glaring at him, she looked as though she might argue the point, even though all she wore was a flannel sleep shirt, scooped at the neck, high on her thighs. Her long, toned legs were bare and the color of fresh cream. Her feet were bare, too, and he noted the sinful red polish on the nails. Her blond hair was free of its braid, hanging in heavy waves around her shoulders, making him want nothing more than to fist his hands in that thick, soft mass again. But her blue eyes were narrowed and there was no welcome there.

  Finally, though, the winter cold was enough to convince her to shut the door, sealing the two of them in together. Still, she didn’t cross the room, but stayed at the door, her back braced against it, her arms folded across her chest. “You don’t have the right to come here. I didn’t invite you.”

  “Didn’t used to need an invitation.”

  Her mouth worked as if she were biting back words struggling to escape. The flannel nightshirt she wore shouldn’t have been sexy, but it really was. Everything about this woman got to him as no one else ever had. He had thought he could walk away from her, but the truth was, he’d taken her with him everywhere he went.

  “What do you want?”

  “You know the answer to that.” He shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it on the back of the nearest chair.

  “Don’t get comfortable. You won’t be here that long.”

  One dark eyebrow lifted. “You don’t want me to go, Lacy, and we both know it.”

  Frowning, she stared at him. “Sometimes we want things that aren’t good for us.”

  “Been reading Kristi’s self-help books?”

  A brief smile curved her mouth and was gone again in an instant.

  The wind whistled under the eaves and sounded like a breathless moan. The fire in the hearth jumped and hissed as that wind passed over the chimney and the golden light in the room swayed as if it was dancing.

  “You left once. Why can’t you just stay away?” she whispered.

  “Because I can’t get you out of my head.”

  She looked at him. “Try harder.”

  Sam laughed shortly, shook his head and moved toward her. “Won’t do any good. Been trying for two years.”

  Those memories, images of her, were so ingrained inside him, Sam had about convinced himself that the reality of her couldn’t possibly be as good as he remembered. And maybe that’s why he was here now. To prove to himself, one way or another, what exactly it was that burned between him and Lacy.

  “Sam...” She sighed and shook her head, as if denying what he was saying, what the two of them were feeling.

  “Damn it Lacy, I want you. Never stopped wanting you.” He moved in close enough to touch her and then stopped. He took a breath, drawing her scent deep inside.

  Silence crowded down around them, the only sound the hiss and crackle of the flames in the hearth. His heart pounding, Sam waited for what felt like an eternity, until she finally lifted her eyes to his and said simply, “Me, too.”

  In a blink, Sam reached for her and she came into his arms as if they’d never been apart. He fisted his hands in the back of her soft, flannel gown and held her tight, pressing her length against him until he felt her heart thundering in time with his own. Bending his head, he took her mouth in a kiss that was both liberation and surrender.

  Fires leaped within, burning him from the inside out and it was still only a flicker of the heat he felt just holding her. His tongue tangled with hers in a desperate dance of need. She gave herself up to the moment, leaning into him, running her hands up and down his arms until the friction of his own shirt against his skin added a new layer of torture.

  Lost in the blinding passion spinning out of control, Sam reached down for the hem of her gown and in one quick yank, pulled it over her head and off. Lacy’s blond hair spilled across her bare shoulders and lay like silk over his hands. His first look at her in two long years hit him hard. She was even more beautiful than he’d remembered and he couldn’t wait another second to get his hands on her. He tossed the nightgown to the chair beside him and then covered her breasts with his palms.

  She sighed, letting her head fall back as a murmured groan of pleasure slid from her throat. His thumbs and fingers stroked and rubbed her hardened nipples and he watched those summer-blue eyes of hers roll back as sensations took her over.

  Burying his own groan, Sam’s gaze swept up and down her body briefly before he shifted his hold on her, catching her at the waist and lifting her up so he could taste her. First one breast, then the other, his mouth moved over her sensitized skin, licking, nibbling, suckling. The warm, tantalizing scent of her wrapped around him, driving him mad with a hunger he had only known with Lacy.

  She clutched at his shoulders and lifted those long legs of hers to wrap around his waist. Having her there, in his arms, was so...right.

  He cupped her bare bottom and held her steady as she looked into his eyes, showing him the passion, the desire that he knew was glittering in his own.

  “Sam, Sam...” she asked, her voice breathless, “what’re we doing?”

  “What we were meant to do,” he murmured, dipping his head to nibble at the slender length of her neck.

  She shivered and that tiny reaction reverberated inside him, setting off what felt like earthquake aftershocks that rippled through his system. Who would have guessed that as great as his memories of her had been, they weren’t even close to how good she felt in reality.

  Her fingers threaded through his hair and she pulled his head back to meet his gaze. “What’re we waiting for, then?”

  “No more waiting at all,” he ground out.

  Sam squeezed and caressed her behind until she was writhing against him and every twist of her hips hardened his body further until he felt as though h
e’d explode with one wrong move. Not yet, his brain screamed, but his body was in charge now and rational or logical or slow didn’t come into it.

  Two long years it had been since he’d touched her last and now that he had her—naked, willing, wanting—he couldn’t wait any longer.

  Lacy, it seemed, felt the same. She shook her long hair back from her face, kissed him hard and deep, then reached down to undo his fly. Buttons sprang free under her fingers and in a second, she was holding him, stroking him from base to tip and back again. Sam gritted his teeth, struggling for control and losing, since he felt as wild as a hormonal teenager.

  Need was a living, breathing animal in the room, snapping its jaws, demanding release. Sam’s brain blanked out, every thought whipping away in the surge of his reaction to her touch. With her fingertips smoothing over him, he couldn’t think beyond breathing. That was all he needed anyway. Air—and Lacy.

  Shifting his grip on her, he stroked the hot, damp core of her. She sucked in a breath and trembled, but she didn’t release her hold on him. If anything, her grip tightened, her caresses became more determined, more demanding. As did his. He rubbed the small bud of sensation at her center and each time she quivered and moaned, it fed his need to touch her more deeply. More completely.

  She twisted in his grasp; her heels dug into the small of his back. “Sam, if you don’t take me right this minute, I might die.”

  “No dying allowed,” he muttered, and fused his mouth to hers. Their tongues tangled together again, even more desperately this time.

  He’d come here with the idea to either talk through the barriers standing between them or seduce her into a sexual haze. Now neither one was happening. This wasn’t seduction. It was raw urgency. Sam took two long steps to the closest wall, braced her back against it and then broke the kiss so he could look into her eyes as he filled her in one long, hard stroke.

  She gasped and he was forced to pause, willing himself to be still. She was so tight. So hot, it stole his breath and left him gasping. A moment passed, and then as if of one mind they moved together, Lacy taking him deep inside her and each of them groaning when he retreated only to slide back inside, even deeper.