Until the night before their regional competition. Her team had arrived the day before to check out the course. She'd gone for a late afternoon run with her friend Ryan Fisher, the best skier in the boys division. They had known each other since starting on the bunny slopes but had never competed before due to the separate-genders competitions. When they’d arrived at the slopes, she’d challenged him to a race.
"We've never gone head to head before," she’d told him so confidently. "Come on, let's see what you've got."
What Ryan had, it turned out, wasn't good enough.
Rosalie overtook him only a few yards after the starting line. Spurred by her early lead, she went all out, laughing and whooping as she tucked herself low, hitting every mogul dead on. By behaving bone-shatteringly, teeth-jarringly reckless, she beat Ryan so handily, she planted her poles and took off her helmet before he even finished his run.
"I beat you!" she shouted, looking around eagerly for anyone else who had seen her triumph. "I kicked your ass!" She'd only recently learned the word and used it with all the relish of a nine-year-old. When she caught sight of her teammates Cassie and Taylor, she called out, "Did you see? Did you see how bad I kicked Ryan's ass?"
Cassie only smiled tightly, but Taylor shook his head with a frown.
"Nobody likes a show-off, Rosalie." Cassie’s grin turned apologetic.
"I'm not a show-off," Rosalie protested. "We were just having fun, and I beat you fair and square. That's not showing off."
Ryan lifted his goggles. She’d never forget the angry red lines they'd dug into his cheeks, framing his eyes as he looked between his feet and her. "That wasn't fun."
"Sure it was!" Panic lodged in Rosalie's throat. She didn't understand why he was sad. "We can go again, if you want? You can maybe try harder—"
His eyes flashed. "You know what? No one likes you, Rosalie. No one likes you because you always win, and you never let the rest of us have a chance!" He stomped out of his boots and hefted his skis to his shoulder, shooting her a withering stare. "You're never going to have any friends if you don't stop being such a show-off."
If he'd shouted the words, maybe Rosalie would have ignored him, chalking the incident up to sour grapes. But Ryan had seemed genuinely sad—for her. She'd hurt him, without meaning to, and he was warning her to not make the same mistake again.
No one likes you because you always win.
With a jerk, Rosalie hauled herself out of her crouch. She skid a little, angling her skis into a V-shape to slow her descent. She was winning against Connor handily but at what cost? Would he still like her if she showed him up? Would he still call her baby if she made him look ridiculous in front of everyone?
Heart in her throat, Rosalie executed a deliberately clumsy move designed to land her on her ass. She hoped that by pretending to fall, Connor would take the chance to play rescuer, stopping this dangerous competition before it went too far and ruined everything.
Connor whooshed past. Her heart leaped, and she stood back up to cheer him on—
Until he crossed the points of his skis and went sprawling.
"Are you okay?" Rosalie hurried over to him. "Are you hurt?"
Connor sputtered and wiped the snow away from his mouth. "Only my pride," he groaned, looking at her. "Guess this means you won?" He pointed to the tips of her skis, which were a few inches further down the slope than his. "And rightly so, too. You're a hell of a skier, Rosalie."
Pride flushed through her, warming her from the inside out. He didn't hate her for beating him. He still liked her. With a burst of confidence, she clapped his arm. "Thank you. Can I tell you something that might help?"
"You think I need help?"
Rosalie faltered until she saw the amused tilt of his lips. "Am I wrong?" she challenged.
"I'll take anything at this point."
"You're putting your weight too far forward. See how I'm standing?" She crouched.
"I'm … distracted by how you're standing, yes," he agreed, taking a long, lingering look at her ass.
Rosalie laughed and swatted him. "It's harder to tell you. Easier to show you. Want to try again?"
Once again, Connor surprised her by agreeing. He surprised her even more by agreeing to take their lesson to the green diamond run.
"No moguls," he huffed at the top, sounding relieved.
"Okay, see how your knees are bent over your ankles like that? I want you to try it this way." She demonstrated how to keep your center of balance lined up. Connor frowned but mimicked her motions, alarm creeping over his face as he began sliding downhill.
"You can do it!" she called after him, following behind. "You've got it, just like that!" As he maneuvered himself to a stop at the bottom of the hill—without overbalancing—she swished to a stop alongside him. "That was great! You're a really quick learner!"
He caught her up in his arms. "Because you're a really good teacher." His chuckle rumbled from deep in his belly. Before she could say another word, he caught her mouth with his.
Her lips parted swiftly, eagerly welcoming the sweep of his tongue and his rough stubble against her cheeks. She wound her arms around his neck as the kiss deepened.
Connor groaned against her lips, mumbling curses at their skis before growling low and hauling her closer. Their skis tangled alongside their bodies. Connor's hands went to her waist, pulling her flush against him, the tight lines of his ski-pants making no effort to hide his growing erection. A thrill raced down Rosalie’s spine, igniting a spark in her belly. As her hands went to his face, she cupped his cheeks when he tilted his head, kissing her more deeply—
She heard the warning cry a second too late. Yanking her head back, she cried out in horror as a kid hurtled towards them, out of control.
Connor pulled her sideways. She tumbled over with a yelp, landing on top of Connor, who had twisted his body to cushion her fall. A heartbeat later, the kid hurtled past, kicking up a backdraft strong enough to blow Rosalie's hair into her face. "Is he okay?" she asked Connor. She couldn't bear to look.
Connor lifted his head. "The orange fence caught him. And there's a medic on his way."
Rosalie let out a long breath and blinked. "Are you okay? I kind of landed on you."
Connor laughed. "Again, only my pride is wounded, baby. And better you land on me than on the ground. It's pretty hard." He grimaced.
She leaned in and kissed the tip of his nose. "Poor baby. You're getting all beat up."
"Want to head to the lodge? I'll let you nurse me back to health." He waggled his eyebrows.
"You're not that hurt."
"I'll fall again, just to make sure."
"You're impossible."
But as he led her into the lodge, her heart raced in anticipation.
8
The second they stepped back into the lodge, Connor's phone rang. He shot a sorrowful look at Rosalie, explaining, "It's Art."
"And here I was going to get my nurse's uniform out of my suitcase." She sighed dramatically.
"Hold that thought and don't go anywhere," he'd barked, yelling at his cousin for his shitty timing.
Only one call had turned into two. Then he'd needed to conference call with the New York office. Then he'd discovered a missed message from the Selkirk Fund from last week and nearly fired Jenny—for the seventh time—but he backed off when he pictured having to break the news to his mother. Then he’d started working in earnest, triaging emails in search of other fires Jenny had missed, and Rosalie had drifted away.
When he next looked up, the sun had sunk behind the mountain and his stomach was growling.
"Shit." He rolled his stiff neck from side to side. The multiple spills on the slopes were catching up with him. Closing his eyes, he pictured Rosalie in a nursemaid's uniform, her ripe ass barely constrained by a neat pencil skirt and her delectable thighs encased in silky white stockings.
He groaned, cursing himself for letting work get in the way of finding out whether she really did have that cos
tume. If she didn't, would she let him send one here via courier ASAP?
He rose from his makeshift desk, shifting himself inside his pants. It was nearly dinnertime; he couldn't very well show up at the table sporting a massive erection. Thinking of his cousin calling at just the wrong moment did the trick, making him presentable for dinner. "Ass."
He hurried to the room above the cozy public bar that he'd reserved for the evening, hoping he wouldn't be the last to arrive. "Ed!" he called out, when he saw the older man emerging. "Where are you off to? Was dinner not to your liking?"
Ed Coney popped a grape into his mouth and tilted his head to the busily scurrying staff. "Hope you don't mind. I'm having them send mine and Dora's to our room." He winked. "I went ahead and booked her a few things off the spa menu."
Connor stared blankly.
"You know … since we're on a vacation. Away from the kids."
"Oh! Right."
"Your lady looks like she could use some relaxation too, if you don't mind me saying so. You know the saying: happy wife, happy life." Ed popped another grape in his mouth and practically sashayed down the hallway, giving the distinct impression of a man expecting to get laid.
"Happy girlfriend, happy life?" Connor mused. An idea was forming. One that—surprisingly—had nothing to do with Rosalie nursing him.
Ed was right. She could definitely use with some relaxation. But the idea of anyone besides him putting their hands on her body made him shift uncomfortably. He wanted her—and her, alone. All alone with him.
He found the surprised head of staff, who quickly agreed to find a suitable place for his plans. He asked another staff member to intercept Rosalie and make sure she found her way to where Connor would be waiting for her.
Then he got to work.
* * *
Mouth gaping, Rosalie stepped under the stone arch. Connor could barely contain his excitement as she slowly spun, taking in the high-beamed ceiling and skylights, through which they could glimpse the clear night sky; the vast stone fire pit, the roaring fire already stoked high; and the low cushions, arranged on an antique Oriental rug covering the marble floor.
"What is this place?" Awe tinged her voice.
"Private suite, baby."
She arched a dark eyebrow. "I thought we already had the private suite."
Connor chuckled. "Yeah, but ours doesn't have a fire pit. Makes it hard to make s’mores."
He produced the bag of marshmallows with a magician's flourish. Rosalie squealed and jumped to snatch it from his hands. "We're going to toast marshmallows?"
"You're more excited about that than the room," Connor mock-grumbled. But inside he was delighted.
Discovering Rosalie’s favorites had taken some real detective work. And a call to Anna, who'd been so effusive with her list that Connor had nearly run out of time to procure everything. But seeing Rosalie's face when he gave her, her favorite guilty pleasure was worth it. Spa treatments were nice, but her moans of pleasure at high quality chocolate were louder than her moans from a massage ever could be. Grabbing a piece, she popped it into her mouth before moaning again.
"No Hershey's for you, Connor McClellan?"
"You want Hershey's? I can make that happen."
"Don't you dare." She swatted him when he made to take the chocolates and jammed another piece in her mouth. "But, seriously, what are we doing here?" She swallowed. "I was hurrying down to the restaurant, freaking out over being late, when some hotel attendant popped up and told me to go back to the room for an hour. He was adamant, Connor. I was afraid he would lock me in there."
"Good. He earned his tip then." Connor took Rosalie's arm in one hand and the bag of chocolate in the other before guiding her to the cloud-soft cushion closest to the roaring fire. "I canceled the dinner meeting."
Rosalie's eyes popped. "You did? You canceled a meeting?" She rested her slim hand against his forehead. "Connor, are you feeling okay?"
He laughed and snatched her hand up in his, bringing it to his lips. "Okay, fine, you caught me. Ed canceled it. But I wasn't too upset. Remember, I have other reasons for being here this week besides wooing Ed Coney."
Her head tilted down. "Wooing me."
"How am I doing?" He broke off a small piece of chocolate and lifted it to her lips. She raised her eyebrows and leaned in.
Connor inhaled sharply as her lips closed around his finger. His cock stiffened in his jeans as she sucked greedily. "Damn, baby, you don't need to woo me that hard. I'm already yours."
She tossed her hair behind her shoulder. "Is that true?"
"Sure feels that way." The tiniest grin of pleasure transformed her face. She turned away, blushing, and grabbed a marshmallow from the bag. He followed suit, spearing the sweet confection at the end of the hand-carved birch spear he'd tipped the valet extra to procure. He held it out a few feet from the dancing flames, allowing it to toast lightly on all sides.
Rosalie stuck hers right into the flames.
"You're on fire, baby," Connor pointed out.
She blew out the flaming sugar with an expert puff. "I know." She used her other hand to slide the blackened crust off the top of the marshmallow, popping it in her mouth with an evil smile. "I like them this way."
"But if you let it get golden brown on all sides, it cooks evenly."
"Are you trying to optimize my marshmallow toasting skills?"
"I'm just wondering if you're getting the full marshmallow experience." Connor frowned at his marshmallow, testing it for doneness with his fingers before moving it back above the flames.
"You're not getting the full experience either," Rosalie laughed. She set her marshmallow on fire again and blew it out. "Here. Taste this."
Connor eyed the charred remnants suspiciously.
"Don't you trust me?" Rosalie's soft voice cut into his thoughts.
"Hell, yeah." He leaned in and let her place the crispy confection of burnt sugar on his tongue. Her eyes searched his as he closed his mouth around her offering.
The mixture of smoky and sweet was perfect. And perfectly her. He chewed with relish and leaned in closer. "You win."
She licked her lips in triumph. "You got some on your lip."
"Where?"
"Right”—her soft lips brushed the corner of his mouth—“there." He held perfectly still as her tongue darted to the flecks of sweetness lingering on his lips. Her soft sigh brushed over his ear, sending a shiver of awareness down his spine.
"Baby." Calling her that felt so natural. Same as catching her mouth with his. When she sighed into his kiss, desire surged in him strong enough to pin him to the ground. "You're driving me insane." His lips trailed down from her mouth, pressing lightly against where her pulse beat madly in her throat. "You know that, right? You know you've got me completely out of my head."
She groaned in reply, tilting her head to expose more of her throat. He growled his approval, kneeling up on the cushion to gather her into his arms.
He wanted to kiss every inch of her perfect skin, but he struggled to stray from her mouth. She intoxicated him, tasting of every delicious thing, his own ambrosia. She moaned his name and wrapped her arms around his neck.
That last fragile thread holding him together snapped. Connor had always prided himself on his complete control, but with Rosalie, it didn't matter that he was a mess. She drove him right to the edge of insanity, and he loved how the ground crumbled around his feet. He knew just how amazing falling would feel.
He tugged her blouse upward, exposing her creamy skin. He pressed her back on the cushion as gently as he could manage, trembling with the effort to hold back. With her dark hair splayed out in a halo and her skin glowing in the firelight, she looked both holy and ethereal. He didn't want to desecrate her with his touch.
She smiled up at him with eyes full of lust. "Are you so out of your head that you forgot what comes next?"
"Hell, no."
"Then what are you waiting for?"
He growled and slid his
hand between her legs; she yelped, arching into him. "Don't you rush me, Rosalie. I planned on taking my time with you." He spread his palm, cupping her heat in his hand, and brushed his thumb over her clit. "I told you; I'm going to woo you."
She rocked her hips in frustration. "Okay, I'm wooed, I'm wooed. Just …." Her rocking grew more frantic, her thighs quivering.
He pulled his hand away.
Her eyes flew open.
"I know you were close, baby. But I don’t want you coming on my hand."
"Why not?" she seethed.
He tugged at her slacks. "Because I want you to come on my tongue."
She wordlessly cried out as he tugged her slacks down her hips. Then her eager, impatient fingers were at the button of his fly. Connor knelt up to allow her to unfasten his jeans and yank them down. "I could get used to this view," he rasped, tucking her hair behind her ear before cupping her breast in his palm.
She looked up at him. Her eyes were wide and shining, her lips red and puffy from his kisses.
She'd never looked more beautiful.
"Now where was I?" He pushed her back down on the cushion and dove between her thighs, burying his tongue deep inside of her. She squirmed and arched, her fingers sinking into his hair. He laughed, humming against her slick flesh as her greedy hands guided his motions, taking exactly what she needed and bringing her right to the brink before he pinned her wrists down on either side of her hips and swirled his tongue over her center.
"That's it," he encouraged as her muscles tightened and quivered. "Let me feel it, baby. Let me feel it."
She came with a sharp cry. Her whole body went rigid as she bucked wildly underneath him. Connor didn’t let up as she arched and gasped; he was too far gone, his own desire coiling hot in his belly. She was still coming when he pulled his head from between her thighs and plunged his cock between them.
"Holy shit, you're still coming," he rasped as her tight walls quivered around him. "God, you are so beautiful, Rosalie."
McClellan Billionaires: The Complete Series Page 6
