by Jaci Burton
Plus, she liked being on her knees. It gave her a huge sense of freedom and heightened the tension in each thrust. She really liked it when he reached around and tweaked her nipples. It made everything feel tight and hot and anxious in the best way possible.
“Harder,” she urged him.
“Harder with what? Your nipples? Or fuck you harder?”
Why should she have to choose? “Both.”
There was a brief pause when she suspected she had shocked him. Or excited him. Hell, probably both. But then he complied quite nicely, pinching her nipple harder and pounding her exactly the way she had requested. Chelsea held on to the edge of the tub for dear life and closed her eyes as the pleasure washed over her. She might have actually met the man who could satisfy her.
He moved his touch from her nipple to her clitoris, tweaking the swollen bud. Oh, yeah, he could satisfy her. She let out a deep low groan as she came hard, a tight, quick orgasm that left her breathless with its intensity.
Almost immediately he shuddered and found his own finish.
And again, all she could say was, “Wow.”
Her knees suddenly made themselves known as she realized they were smashed against the sides of the tub, and her hips gave a creaky protest when she started to shift her legs together, but it was worth it. So worth it.
“You’re right, this is a relaxing bathtub.” Brody pulled out of her with a deep sigh.
He settled back against the wall, and with a lot of legs in the way, and a pull that wasn’t exactly graceful on her part, he managed to get her between his legs and leaning back against his chest.
It was such a firm chest. As good as the wall, but warmer. Chelsea gave her own sigh. “I told you. I have good ideas.”
“Damn straight.”
Chelsea watched her legs float in front of her and marveled at the pleasant ache in every inch of her body. She liked this. She could get used to this. Except that she lived in Albany and this was truly the epitome of a one-night stand.
It was a bit of a bummer.
“You’re leaving tomorrow?”
It seemed he was remembering the very same thing, though she couldn’t tell if he was disliking the idea of her leaving as much as she was.
“Yep.”
“So do you mind if I stay over?” Brody said. “We could have breakfast before you shove off.”
Waffles with Brody had a very large appeal. As did waking up next to him and having one last tumble in the sheets. If this was it, she might as well take all she could get.
“Of course you can stay over. That way you can wake me up with oral sex.”
He gave a short laugh. “Do you want me to cook for you, too, while I’m at it?”
“If I had a kitchen, I’d say yes. I hate to cook.”
“I actually love to cook. But there’s a great breakfast place that’s two minutes away. I love their pumpkin pancakes.”
Chelsea shifted a little, gripping his thigh to stabilize herself. It was strange to feel so at ease with someone she had just met. Yet she did. A little feeling was starting to burble up inside her, an idea that she found both fascinating and annoying. The idea that maybe she and Brody could actually date and have some sort of relationship.
Which was ridiculous. It didn’t work that way. One-night stands did not turn into happily ever after, and long-distance relationships never worked. It was a fairy tale. An urban legend.
She knew that, one hundred percent.
Yet she still felt that if given half the chance, she might just decide to captain this ship of fools.
Give her a jaunty cap and see how long it would take to go aground on a sandbar.
She stood up, splashing water on Brody’s legs.
“Where are you going?”
“The water’s too hot. I need a drink.”
And a big old reality check.
* * *
Brody watched Chelsea grab a towel and head back into the hotel room, still naked, still wet. He had the uncomfortable feeling that he didn’t want her to go. Not into the other room. Not back to Albany. But those were the breaks, weren’t they? It would be next to impossible to pursue dating when they lived 120 miles away from each other.
It figured. He met the first woman to really secure his interest in years and she was leaving forty-eight hours after he met her.
That was life, he supposed, and he could whine about it, or he could just enjoy it. She probably wouldn’t want to date him anyway. She was a nurse with a snarky sense of humor who hated winter. He was a ski instructor who’d spent two-thirds of his life in the snow and the other third sleeping. They weren’t a good fit.
Yet there had been nothing wrong with their fit ten minutes ago.
Brody stood up and wrapped a towel around his midsection, and padded across the cold tile floor to the main room. Chelsea was standing in front of the door to the balcony, and he could already tell that she had opened it. And that it was stuck again. Her backside jiggled a little as she tried to discreetly close it.
“Did you open the door?”
“Yes. I was hot.”
Brody wanted to laugh, but at the same time he wanted to wait until she was away from the backlit glass door. “Yeah, you’re definitely hot. I can’t argue with that. And probably anyone out on the lake can see that right now, too, since you’re standing naked in front of an open door.”
She may not be his, but he didn’t want anyone else looking. At least not tonight.
“The door is stuck,” she said begrudgingly, glancing at him over her shoulder, her hair even curlier than usual from the humidity of the bath.
“I know.” Brody took her by the arm and shifted her out of the range of curious eyes. Behind a thick curtain. “I was debating asking why you would open a door that got stuck just last night but I figured it was a moot point at the moment.”
“I thought, what are the odds of it happening twice?”
“When something gets stuck, the odds of that being repeated are actually pretty high.” Brody tested the door. Yep. Stuck. Fortunately, she’d only cracked it open an inch, and while the wind was cold enough to shrink his balls, under the blankets in bed it probably wouldn’t matter.
“You’re a know-it-all.”
“And you’re impulsive.” Brody took off his towel and crammed it into the open doorway to block some of the air. Then he yanked the drapes closed and figured that was the best he could do at the moment.
“It’s not a dirty word.” She was sitting on the bed, goose bumps all over her flesh, her nipples taut.
“No. Fuck is a dirty word. Which is what I’m about to do to you.”
“Again?” She glanced down at his dick, which increased its burgeoning erection. “Yes, please.”
“I fully appreciate your impulsiveness,” he told her, and moved toward the bed. The night wasn’t over yet.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Chelsea tried to ignore the pounding on the door but it wouldn’t go away. Stumbling out of the warm bed, she pulled on a T-shirt and pajama pants from her open suitcase and rubbed her eyes. Brody didn’t even move, his mouth open on a soft snore. They had spent half the night playing hide the salami, and whoever was at the door better have a damn good reason for knocking so early because she was tired. Worn out. Sexually exhausted. Orgasmed into a coma.
It was Lacey, who gave her a look of pure astonishment. “Why aren’t you dressed?”
“Because I was sleeping.”
“Chelsea, it’s ten. We’re leaving now.”
“Now?” Was Lacey insane? “It’s like dawn. Even the roosters aren’t up. If my day was the history of the world, this is the Jurassic period. Humans don’t exist.” Though now that she was standing, Chelsea really wanted a cup of coffee.
“It’s not five in the morning. It’s ten. We’re leaving in twenty minutes because checkout is at eleven and Matt wants to stop for gas.”
“So why can’t we leave at eleven?” And why the hell hadn’t she driven herself h
ere? “I need to take a shower.” Because she smelled like sex. “And I want to eat breakfast.” With Brody.
“Twenty minutes. We’ll eat when we hit the road.”
Lacey looked so perky and put together in her jeans and thick wool sweater that Chelsea was afraid to look in the mirror. It wasn’t going to be pretty. She had cottonmouth and felt like she’d slept on damp hair, which she had. One side of her hair was flat, the other sticking up. Maybe she should be grateful Lacey had woken her up while Brody was still sleeping. Now she could sneak into the bathroom and do some repair work.
“Who is it? Is it housekeeping?” Brody’s groggy voice came from the room behind her.
“No, it’s my friend,” she called back to him.
Lacey’s eyebrows shot up. “Who is that?” she whispered. “Is that your ski instructor?”
She nodded.
“Oh, my God. I’m jealous.”
“So you’ll tell Matt to hold his horses for an hour?”
“Well, no, I can’t do that. When he has a plan, he can’t be talked out of it. Sorry.”
How accommodating. “I’ll be there,” Chelsea told her, annoyed beyond belief that she wasn’t going to get one last ride on the naked merry-go-round. Chances were she was never going to see Brody again. She had been looking forward to waking up with him, having slow, easy sex, then going out to breakfast.
It wasn’t going to happen.
She closed the door and went over to the bed. “My friends are making me leave in twenty minutes. I didn’t drive, so I don’t have much of a leg to stand on.”
Brody rubbed his chin and yawned. “For real? That sucks. But I get it.”
“I’m going to jump in the shower, and no, you can’t join me or we’ll never make it downstairs.”
He grinned. “Good point. Alright, I’ll behave myself.”
She was bitter about it, but thirty minutes later Chelsea was down in the lobby, her suitcase rolling along behind her, Brody carrying her floppy winter hat. When they stopped in front of the electronic doors, he put it on her head and tugged the two dangling strings.
“I had a great time, Chelsea.”
“I did, too.” Her thoughts were crowding together, her heart urging her to do something, say anything, to open up the possibility of there being more than one night, but they had only just met. If they lived in the same town, she would suggest coffee or a drink another day, but given the distance between them, suggesting any of that would make her a stalker. Or at the very least, look desperate.
She glanced around. “I don’t see my friends.” But she did see a couple of huskies sniffing around each other. It might have been the couple from Friday night, but she wasn’t sure. This town seemed to be Club Med for huskies.
Chelsea wanted to say something brilliant about the strange rarity of true physical attraction, about how she wanted to chuck her suitcase into the back of Brody’s truck and spend a lazy Sunday in his bed. In his arms. But she didn’t.
She just gave him a smile and said, “Thanks for the ski lesson. Every time I make my V, I’ll think of you.”
Brody laughed. Right up until the end, Chelsea amused him. He stared down at her, wanting to kiss those pink lips until she moaned. How weird would she think he was if he suggested she come back the following weekend? Too weird for him to say it out loud.
“It was my pleasure. No, really, it was.” They were both smiling at each other. Neither of them was making a move to leave. Brody felt ridiculous and excited and deflated all at the same time. He’d met someone he could really like and he had to walk away. He was in uncharted territory here, so he bent over and kissed her softly.
“If you’re ever in town, give me a call.”
Which was a stupid thing to say. It meant don’t call if you’re not. Which wasn’t what he wanted to say. But he had wanted to hint at a future meet up in some way, and he didn’t mean as a casual hookup. Frustrated, he jammed his hands into his pockets.
“Sure.” Chelsea saluted him. “Catch you on the flip side. Keep on keepin’ on. Have a good one. Over and out.”
“My thoughts exactly.” Brody added, “Have a safe drive back.”
Then he left before he said something completely pathetic.
But after letting Mabel out and playing in the snow with her, he found himself driving to Whiteface and strapping on his skis.
He rode the gondola up to the top, determined to conquer his fears about his knee, determined to live a whole life, not a half one. So he wasn’t going to compete on the pro cir-
cuit. That didn’t mean he couldn’t ski just for the sheer joy of it. If he fell on his ass, so be it. Chelsea had fallen on her ass. Hell, she’d dangled from a balcony rather than sit around and wait to be rescued.
If he fell, he’d just get back up.
But he didn’t fall.
And when he reached the bottom of the mountain, he was so exhilarated he texted Chelsea.
If I was in Albany would you go to dinner with me?
Her answer came before he could even tuck his phone back in his pocket.
Does Dolly Parton sleep on her back?
Brody shook his head, a grin splitting his lips. Where the hell did she come up with these?
She followed up with a second text.
Yes. When are you going to be in Albany?
To hell with worrying about looking too eager. Brody was going to throw it out there.
Whenever you’re free.
He almost got nailed by a snowboarder, so Brody unclipped his skis and moved toward the lodge.
Next Sunday? Since it’s both our days off.
Sure.
It looked like he was going to Albany for the day.
You can bring Mabel.
Oh, yeah. He was making the right choice.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Chelsea leaned into Brody’s warm arms and sighed, tucking the blanket tighter around her as the sled slid across the ice behind the dogs. She was lying sideways, so that she could see his face and talk while his friend Dan guided the dogs as they ran. “I can’t believe it’s taken us a whole year to finally get out on the lake for a sled ride.”
“Well, we spent half of our time in Albany. Then there was summer. Then fall. Now here we are.”
Chelsea rolled her eyes in the dark. “It was a rhetorical statement.”
“I know.”
She knew he knew. She also knew that she and Brody were a perfect fit for each other. A year of dating had proven that. He was steady and reliable, sexy and romantic, and he had an endless well of patience. He loved her dog. He opened doors. He never failed to give her an orgasm. He took her teasing and he gave it right back.
“I don’t know why I put up with you, honestly.” She gave a fake sigh.
“Because you love me.”
She did. “That I do.” She was cuddling against him, and she ran her fingers across the stubble on his chin. She loved him in ways that still surprised her, every day. “I love you like the desert loves the rain.”
“Wow.” Brody kissed her roaming fingertips, his lips cold in the quiet night. “I love you, too. Like a dog loves a bone.”
It wasn’t Byron, but she’d take it. “How would you feel about being able to love me more frequently?”
“I definitely would like that, but what do you mean?”
“I mean I’ve been offered a job at an assisted living facility. Ten minutes from here.”
“Really? That would be awesome. I’d love for you to be here, but I don’t want to pressure you. I want you to want to move. Do you want to move?”
“Does a hobbyhorse have a wooden dick?” Chelsea kissed Brody, hard, feeling breathless and excited and in love. “Yes. I want to be with you.”
“Can you move in with me? I don’t want you to get your own place. I want you curled up next to me every morning.”
Chelsea was so glad she’d held out for a hero. “Yes. Yes, I’ll move in with you.”
Brody kissed her back as
they slid across the ice, the wind whistling around them.
“I am standing right behind you, you guys do know that?” Dan asked. “And I’m feeling very uncomfortable right now.”
Brody glanced back at Dan, too happy to feel embarrassed. Chelsea was moving in with him. They were going to have a real future together and he was ecstatic. She still couldn’t ski her way out of a paper bag, but she made him laugh every day, and she was kind and generous and loved his dog. She was the woman for him, no doubt about it.
“Maybe you can take us back in. I think we’ll save the full circle of the lake for another night.”
“With another sled.” Dan pulled the reins and turned the dogs. “With a driver you don’t have poker nights with. This is awkward.”
“Sorry.” But the truth was, he was too excited to really feel a huge amount of remorse.
Brody wrapped his arms firmly around Chelsea. Now that he had her, he wasn’t letting go. He leaned over so only she could hear. “Want to practice making your V? In bed?” He would never get tired of the enthusiasm she displayed during sex.
“Sure. I never get it right. Maybe because out on the slopes, you’re always telling me knees in, and then in bed you’re always telling me knees out. It’s confusing.”
“I’ll show you what I mean.”
“Such a gentleman.”
If he were really a gentleman, he wouldn’t have his hand between her legs, stroking against the seam of her jeans. But then he wouldn’t have the satisfaction of seeing her lips part in arousal either. They were only twenty feet from the edge of the lake.
“Dan, we’ll walk from here.”
“Thank God.”
