by Jill Shalvis
“Oh my God! Don’t stop!”
At that breathless demand, he shook his head, unexpectedly wishing that she was flat on her back with him buried deep inside her as she screamed those words.
But he’d made sure not to get there, hadn’t he, avoiding being alone with her.
And yet here he was.
Alone.
Also, with her wrapped around him like a pretzel, breathing roughly in his ear, panting, using words like don’t stop, he was having a hard time keeping his mind out of her pants. He hit the gas harder and they flew toward a snow-filled ravine, heading for another sharp downhill that he knew would make her scream even louder.
Apparently, he wasn’t just a bastard, he was a sick bastard.
“I’m not afraid!”
He knew those words she shouted were for her. The joy in them was unmistakable, so he didn’t slow or hold back, but let her experience the full speed of the run.
Given the decibel level of her voice, she liked it, and he found himself grinning.
Grinning.
When was the last time he’d pushed himself past his own fears? Hell, up until a year ago, he hadn’t had any fears at all, and since the accident…Well, he sure as hell hadn’t pushed himself in any way at all. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt exhilarated, excited, the last time he’d had fun. These days, riding was nothing but a mode of transportation when the roads weren’t plowed, when he had to get from one excursion site to another quickly, or when any one of the others needed assistance.
But with Katie’s breathless laughter spurring him on in his ear, things were different. He was smiling. Laughing. And his body…Well, his body was sure as hell telling him loud and clear that there was going to be something about this woman.
Something far more than expected.
Instead of going there, he took them over the land, making sharp turns so that she squeezed him tighter, hitting the gas so that she squeezed her legs around his, basically doing everything in his power to give her the ride of her life.
But the joke was on him, because she ended up giving him the ride of his life, and he drove for far longer than he’d intended, incredibly aware of her body plastered to his back, of the sweet heat of her arms wrapped so securely around him. When he finally stopped at the top of Widow’s Peak, he shifted to give her a look of the valley far below.
The mountains were covered in snow, looking deceptively soft. But anyone who’d ever lived on these rugged peaks knew the truth—it was the opposite. No softness anywhere; only harsh, tough landscape.
It took a tough person to live here. He should know. He’d grown up only miles from here, under the mean, drunk gaze of a father who hadn’t given a shit. Cam didn’t blame the land.
Actually, he loved the land.
Because it’d been here he’d had the world laid at his feet by his one lone talent, along with all the fame and celebrity that went with it. Yeah, he loved the land. The land had saved his sorry ass.
Katie stared out at the view and sighed. “It’s gorgeous. Who owns all that?”
“Once upon a time, a Wilder. The Wild Wilder, they called him. My great, great, great grandfather.” He shrugged. “Legend has it that he shot more men than Jesse James. And as the apple never falls far from the tree, most of the Wilder men who came along after that weren’t much better, ending up in jail or six feet under.”
“Quite the legacy.”
“Cam, T.J., and I grew up as wild as our name implies, happily doing our part of living up to it.”
“And yet you’re not in jail or six feet under.”
“Not for lack of trying, believe me.”
She’d craned her neck so that she could peek over his shoulder at him. “You’re referring to your accident.”
“For one, yeah.”
“It changed your life.” It was a statement, but also, he knew, a question, and she watched him very carefully, telling him how important his answer was to her.
He had a glib answer on his tongue, but he couldn’t give it to her. Not with that look on her face. “It changed everything.”
“As in it gave you the perspective to make some life changes?”
“As in it gave me the perspective that I’m screwed.”
She pulled back slightly, as if so greatly let down by him she couldn’t touch him. And though he rarely gave a shit what people thought, he found himself giving a shit now. “It’s different for us, Katie. I lost what I was living for and you found it.”
“You lived for racing?”
Yeah. Hell yeah. But hearing it from her lips didn’t sound so good. “Well, not anymore.”
“What do you live for now?”
He let out a breath, not wanting to make this worse, to make her even more disheartened by him, but he had nothing. “It hasn’t been that long.”
She nodded, letting him have the fantasy that he was doing fine. But he wasn’t, and for the very first time, he wondered what it would take to change that.
A new dream. That’s what it would take. Too bad he was fresh out. He hit the gas again, and with a gasp, she gripped him tight.
Which worked for him. Because at these speeds, there was no brooding, no pouting, no rehashing bad shit. Plus, he loved listening to her gasp and laugh as he raced them over the land. It made him smile in spite of himself, and he was still doing so when he finally pulled up in front of the lodge. When he turned off the engine, Katie stayed still a long moment, hugging him.
He figured she’d be distant now, but apparently she didn’t work that way.
“We didn’t flip,” she said against his ear.
His eyes drifted shut. “I would never have flipped us.”
“I know. But fears aren’t always logical. God, Cam, that was good. I don’t feel sick at all.” She pushed her face over his shoulder. “Am I green?”
He looked into her eyes. “No.”
She smiled, pulled off the helmet, and straightened her glasses. “I didn’t have even an inkling of a panic attack.”
“You do have helmet hair, though.”
She laughed. Putting her hand on his shoulder, she looked into his face. “I have to go back to work, but thank you. Seriously, you made my day.”
“It was just a ride.”
She looked at him for another breath, and he wondered what she saw. “It was more for me. Thank you.” Leaning in, she pressed her lips to his jaw. “Thank you…” She pulled back only a fraction and shifted her aim so that now her lips touched his once, softly.
Sweetly.
“Thank you so much,” she whispered again as an unnamed raw emotion surged up from his chest so fast he got dizzy.
“I really needed that. The ride,” she defined. “Not the kiss.” She smiled. “Well, I needed both. Both were great, actually.”
She had this incredible way of slicing through all the unnecessary bullshit. She had a way of looking at him, as if she didn’t care about anything but this very moment—not his past, not his future, or lack of one. Nothing. It felt…good. Too good, and he needed another moment of it. Of her.
No regrets…“Goldilocks?”
“Yes?”
“I have a thank you too.”
“You do? For what?”
Reaching for one of her hands, he tugged her over his shoulder, pulling her onto his lap. Then he kissed her.
Not sweetly.
Not even close.
This time there was tongue, lots of tongue, and he was gone, diving headfirst into the hottest, deepest, wettest, most perfect kiss in recent memory.
Hell, most perfect kiss ever, in all the damn land.
He told himself that was because it’d been so long since he’d been with a woman, but the lingering doubt was enough to have him going still. He opened his eyes to look into hers, his thumbs gently brushing either side of her jaw as she let out a soft, sexy little sigh.
He knew just what she meant, and shoving all his reservations to the back of his brain under No
t Important Now, he tugged her closer and kissed her again. He half expected her to stop him because he knew that she’d only meant that first sweet kiss as a quick thank you, but her hands were running over his chest, his shoulders, into his hair, then back to his chest, as if she couldn’t get enough either.
And then they slipped down to his belly.
Oh yeah, baby, go there.
Go as low as you want—
She broke off the kiss this time, mouth trembling and still wet from his, breath laboring in and out of her lungs as she stared at him.
He stared back, one hand in her hair, the other palming a sweet, full, warm breast.
“I got a little carried away with that thank you,” she whispered, shuddering when his thumb rasped over her erect nipple. Then she seemed to suddenly notice where her hands were—fisted in the waistband of his pants—and she jerked them back, staring down at her front-row view of him straining against the button fly of his Levi’s. “Um.”
Yeah. Um. Much slower to retrieve his hands than she’d been, he took a deep, steadying breath because she wasn’t the only one reeling. “That might have been me who got carried away. Do I need to apologize?”
“No.” She lifted her shaking fingers to her mouth. “No. Was that…” Her face went a little pink. “I’m sorry. I need to know.”
He automatically tensed, but she just blushed a little more. “I was wondering, was that wow for you, because that was pretty wow for me, and I just—” Her hand fluttered in the air. “It’s been so long—I don’t know. Was it? For you?”
Her eyes were so clear, so deep he could see all the way into her heart, which was far, far, far too pure for him.
“Oh.” Her smile faded. “Gotcha.” She hopped off of him and quickly turned away. “Okay, well, thanks again for the ride—”
He caught her hand just in time. Tugging her back around to face him, he waited until she looked into his eyes.
Christ, she slayed him. Slayed him dead. “Katie.” His voice was a little thick, his heart hammering, and he was still a whole lot hard. “It was pretty damn wow.”
She hesitated, clearly not sure whether to believe him.
“A mind-staggering wow,” he clarified.
At that, her smile warmed again and absolutely stopped his poor, confused heart.
“I thought so.” And with that, she squeezed his hand and walked away, not asking him for anything more.
Or expecting it.
Chapter 8
After surviving the bridge collapse, Katie had divided her life into two compartments: pre-accident and post-accident.
But now she had new criteria in which to separate things: pre-snowmobile ride and post-snowmobile ride, which had been the time of her life. The sense of wild freedom, the speed, the wind in her face…
The utter lack of fear.
There’d been an initial terror, of course. Would they crash, hit a tree…die. But she’d learned something about herself during that blissful hour while holding on to Cam. It wasn’t death she feared at all.
It was pain.
But there’d been no pain. Nothing except a real joy and laughter.
And…and more.
Because it wasn’t just the ride she was thinking about but what had happened after, the feel of Cam’s warm, calloused hands gliding over her body, slipping beneath her jacket, caressing the small of her back, her breast…
And how even when they’d pulled back, he’d left his hands on her, almost as if he couldn’t stop touching her. She’d looked into his eyes and had known. She was going to get a whole bunch of adventure here at Wilder, and hopefully a lot more.
She just hoped that that didn’t involve pain either.
“You okay?” Stone asked when he walked by her desk, stopping to look at her oddly, making her realize he’d had to ask her twice. She managed to nod her head. “Fine.” Just daydreaming about your brother having his tongue down my throat.
“You okay?” Annie asked her an hour later.
“Fine.” Still daydreaming…
But Annie didn’t buy it as easily as Stone had, and stopped to give her the once-over. “You look flushed.”
Yep, that’s what happened when one got caught thinking about having her boss’s hands up her shirt. “I’m good,” she said weakly.
“Well, at least you’re finally looking warm.”
“Yeah.” When Annie had moved on, Katie let out a breath. “Try hot. I’m hot. Hot for him. Dammit.”
“Hot for whom?”
Katie jumped, then turned to face Nick, who’d come up the stairs. “No one. And if you could not ask me how I’m doing, that would be great.”
“Right.” His mouth quirked. “Because you’re hot.”
“I—” Ah, hell. “Well, I—”
He lifted a hand and shook his head. He didn’t need to know.
Which was good. Great. Excellent. She really didn’t want to explain how it was that she was overheating over a kiss.
At the end of the day, she closed up and made her way downstairs. Generally, Annie had food in the kitchen. People came and went as they pleased, though several times a week they all managed to eat together. Tonight not being one of those nights, she grabbed a bowl of stew on her own. Afterward, she stood in the foyer pulling on all her layers to make the trek to her cabin—hat, gloves, jacket, boots. Just as she finished the whole production, Cam stepped inside, filling up the small area with his size and nearness that kept her warm in spite of the slap of frigid air he brought with him. “Hey.”
“Hey yourself.” He started to move past her, appeared to war with himself, then turned back.
She liked that he clearly had no idea what the hell to do about her, and rewarded that fact in a smile she couldn’t have hidden anyway.
He shook his head but smiled back. He wore loose jeans, a hoodie sweatshirt with Wilder Adventures’s logo on a pec, and a thick black scarf. He looked his usual scruffy, solidly muscled mountain-man self, and gorgeous with it, of course. Not to mention his scent. Good Lord, that scent should be bottled and sold under the name IMPENDING ORGASM. Just thinking it, she shivered.
He came close again, pulling off his scarf. Lifting it over her head, he settled it around her neck, still holding on to the ends. “Better?”
“I don’t mind the cold,” she murmured, turning her head so the scarf stroked her cheek. It held his body heat and smelled like him. Which was to say delicious.
Still holding her gaze, he slowly pulled on the ends of the scarf, tugging her closer.
Her pulse kicked into gear, her head fell back a little. Another mind-blowing kiss, please…
Looking down at her, he went very still. Only a heartbeat ago, he’d looked so big and bad and wickedly sexy, so sure of himself. And he was still big and bad and sexy, only suddenly he no longer seemed quite so sure. “You shouldn’t look at me like that,” he said softly.
“Like what?”
“Like you’re good with being this close to me, like maybe you want to be even closer.”
“You think you can read my mind?”
“You weren’t thinking that?”
“Well, yes. But I wasn’t going to say it out loud.”
