by Flame Arden
A portable sauna filled one corner. A glassed-in shower took up another. Clear glass. Beyond the shower she could see a private garden now buried under a foot of snow. Her heart skipped when she realized that neither privacy curtain nor frosted glass would block an outsider's view. If she stepped into that enormous shower, she would feel as vulnerable as a school girl about to disrobe for her first after-gym-class shower.
"Wow." She looked in awe at the myriad of recessed lights.
Eve's eyes opened wider when water began to rain from the ring of showerheads suspended from the ceiling at just the right height. His. And like magic fingers, each of the precisely positioned sprays aimed at certain parts of his body that needed to relax.
A shower promised to revive her tired muscles so recently put to the test.
And afterwards, who knows?
Her pulse quickened in anticipation.
"After you." Nick gestured toward the shower, then fiddled with what looked to Eve like a remote. "You're in for a treat."
She stepped inside. He followed, and closed the clear glass door.
Clouds of steam rose from a spray so fine it tickled her skin. The tiled floor cooled her feet, but the persistent stream of water was the exact temperature she preferred. Heavenly.
She glanced over her shoulder at Nick. "Would you mind if I wash my hair?"
He turned from the panel of intimidating electronic gadgets dominating one wall and grinned at her. "I'd be disappointed if you didn't. I do get to watch, right?"
Eve considered herself lucky to have recognized a bottle of her favorite lemon-scented shampoo on a recessed shelf inside the stall. She wet her hair and massaged the rich cream into it.
Just before Nick stepped up beside her, the lights dimmed. Then the steady beat of "Bolero" thrummed from speakers mounted high on each wall. The music started like the quiet fluttering of a bird, but built in volume and intensity until Eve felt as if her feet were absorbing the haunting strains.
Her calves and other fleshy parts of her body vibrated sensually and a delicious weighty feeling settled in the apex of her thighs.
While warm water cascaded down on her head, rinsing the shampoo from her hair, the music worked a hypnotic spell on her.
Then Nick pressed a switch on the wall. The flow of water from overhead diminished and a fine spray came from all sides and up from the tile floor. The spray bathed her legs from knees to ankles like a summer shower, soft and warm.
Nick squeezed a dollop of liquid bath soap in his palm, then lathered her body with probing hands. She recognized the sweet smell of gardenias, Bath Barn's finest. Soon, her body was white with lather, sweet smelling and so hot from Nick's caresses she could hardly stay upright.
As he gathered her into his arms, her lather became his lather. His skin grew slick like hers, and wildly seductive.
Eve quivered against him, her body's wantonly sinful reaction surprising, but unable to stop herself. Not with his hard body pressed erotically close to hers.
* * * * *
Nick chuckled, and cupped Eve's butt with lathered hands while she explored his soap-slickened back and thighs, then splayed her hands over his butt. Her hesitant touch drove him wild. Hot and needy, she rubbed her firm, silky breasts against his chest.
Her warm, flat belly did a Samba with his throbbing cock. Any moment, Nick expected Croupier to explode.
Slowly, the overhead showers came back on. "It’s as if the volume of water raining down on my head is pulsating in time to the music. Or maybe I’m only imagining that." There was no mistaking the throbbing beat of the music, the intoxicating rhythm of the shower coming from all sides and overhead and when Nick’s body automatically strummed to the hypnotic rhythm he rinsed off.
Turning to face her, he gently parted her legs and buried himself in her welcoming depths. Her nails raked his back and she moaned just loud enough for him to hear it above the music.
Clasping his hands together beneath her bottom, he lifted her. She wrapped her long, satin-smooth legs around him, locked her ankles above his hips, and when he began to thrust, unintelligible pleading sounds escaping from her throat.
As the intoxicating rhythm swelled around them, Eve imagined she could even feel the rhythmic quiver resonating in the muscles at the mouth of her womb quivered to the resonating tune.
Pumping like a man bewitched, he let his head loll back. Warm water cascaded over him, washing away all cares save one. Eve's pleasure. The music crescendoed just as she climaxed. His explosive release came close behind, while all around their intertwined bodies, warm water sprayed and haunting melody throbbed.
As if timed to end when the last strains of "Bolero" surged, the shower cut off. Nick still held her tight, his body continuing to pulse, his quakes rippling through her.
Long after her contractions ceased she clung to him, breathing hard. Nick squeezed her bottom and groaned. "Even strong men tire."
She slowly unlocked her legs from around his hips.
He loosened his secure hold on her and allowed Eve to slide her legs down his thighs and reach the tile floor, but still cling to him.
"Whew," she murmured some time later. "I can't seem to get enough air in my lungs."
* * * * *
"Yeah," Nick agreed, wondering why this interlude in his shower had seemed more intense than others he'd shared.
Most likely because he was so weary. After a month of barely covering expenses, the hotel had been booked solid for the past week, the casino and showrooms again jammed.
Every holiday season brought with it the same financial crisis. From Thanksgiving to the week before Christmas, no one visited the Strip. Seasonal events tended to keep tourists at home, family gatherings, company parties.
Then, when the holiday was upon him and he would have preferred some down time, visitors flocked to the town in a festive mood and tossed money on the gaming tables like bread crumbs thrown to ducks.
It had to be the recent influx of tourists that had tired him so. He'd been on his feet for days, overseeing a seamless operation, assuring that all his guests would enjoy their stay and come back. Now it was his turn for a vacation and he'd come here for a much needed rest and seclusion.
Damn. He'd gotten more carried away in the shower than he'd planned and failed to sheath himself. Priscilla's girls adhered to strict health standards, but he never left something as important as protection to chance. Dumb. Dumb. Dumb.
He suddenly needed space. "Let's get your hair dried."
He pulled two thick towels from the warming rack, wrapped one around Eve's head, draped the second one over her outstretched hand. Ignoring her look of disappointment, he grabbed a third towel to dry himself.
Sure, sure. He might have dried her first, but he couldn't do that without tweaking her voluminous breasts. And if he had, he would have wanted—make that needed—Eve again, and from the wiped-out way he was beginning to feel, he should get some rest.
Silently, Eve rubbed the towel over her skin, then moved to the next room. "Is it okay if I use your hair dryer?"
"Sure."
He finished drying and slipped on his Rolex, not that time was all that important, here with Eve. He noticed the date first, then the time. Four a.m. on Christmas Day.
Not much different from any other day, except he didn't have to go to the hotel. Draped with his damp towel, he strolled through the adjoining bath where Eve stood before the mirror, nude, wet towels at her dainty feet, his space-age hair dryer pointed at her head. The unexpected sight elevated his libido twofold.
Double damn! Without makeup or a stitch of clothes, she was far more attractive to him than the women he usually entertained. She made his breath lodge in his throat.
"What?" Eve asked his reflection in the mirror, trying to read his gaze.
"I like the color of your hair." He smoothed his hand down one side of the tangled mass. "Maple leaves in Texas turn this shade in the fall just before the first wintry storm strips the leaves from the
trees."
"Sounds like you miss Texas."
Some things. Not the beatings or the all-too-frequent shortage of food. And especially not the sheriff who had shouted "Poor white trash" at him, convincing Nick to hop a freight train heading west.
"No, I don't miss Texas. Not any more."
He'd sworn to show that sheriff, to show everyone in Lost Coin who had lost faith in him, his father most of all, that Nick St. Clair was made of better stuff than they thought.
And he had.
Or rather, he would have, if he'd ever gone back home.
Against Nick's will, his remembrances had the same effect on him as a cold shower. His desire for Eve momentarily fled.
Before he joined the army, it had taken some doing and a lot of luck at cards to keep him clothed and fed. Then Gary got himself killed and just like that, creditors no longer hounded Nick. His mother now owned the roof over her head and several more. He'd seen to that.
Yeah, he'd found her. Amazing what enough money and a private eye could do. The two of them had made peace of sorts. Forgiveness would take more time.
The holidays. It must be the season making him reminisce. Why else would he be recalling all this when he had someone as desirable as Eve to warm his bed?
He tossed his wet towel at a hamper and donned his robe to cover up Croupier's present state. Then he strode out of the room and down the hall to check that the fire was banked and the fire screen securely in place before he crawled between the sheets.
When he returned, Eve stood by his bed, her robe hugged to her chest. From her perturbed expression, she was considering taking flight.
Not if he could prevent it. She looked so damn delectable, her skin like rich cream. A man could lose himself in that shiny auburn halo around her head. He intended to. Some other time.
"Come on," he said abruptly, yanking off his robe. "Let's get some sleep."
"But... the sheets are sticky," Eve said with a repulsed wiggle that had Croupier coming to attention again.
Her simple action recharged Nick's libido, too. Down, boy.
"I know. You have my cherries jubilee idea to thank for that. I tried to find some clean linens. Any idea where they're kept?"
"Sure do." Nick routinely carried his laundry into town and let the hotel take care of it for him, then brought the bundles back here and put everything away.
He pulled out one of the drawers beneath his bed, rummaged around a moment, then gave Eve a sheepish grin. "Fresh out of silk. Will red satin do?"
Blushing, Eve nodded. "Well... it is Christmas."
Before he had time to ponder the many times St. Nick had skipped right over his childhood home, Eve had his bed stripped.
Nick made the mistake of trying to fit an elastic corner of the bottom sheet over both mattress and box springs. Ignoring Eve's kidding, he eased the corner on correctly. She was more adept and flicked the top sheet in place like a pro.
While she slipped clean pillow cases on his numerous pillows, he tucked in the sheets and together they smoothed the wool blanket in place and straightened the down comforter over it.
Nick tried to stifle a big yawn, but failed. "Let's get some sleep."
"Sleep?" Eve repeated. "Sleep is not usually what a man has in mind when he invites a woman to stay the night, but you have exhausted me. And yes, I could use some sleep, I just hadn't expected you to allow me to shut my eyes. At least, not yet."
She turned back the blanket and comforter. Tried to turn back the sheet. Nick had tucked it in so tightly, a dropped quarter would have bounced on the bed.
"Hey, I need a little help here. How am I supposed to climb in?"
* * * * *
Nick threw back his head and laughed. "Old habits really do die hard. This one's from my Army days." A habit he often slid back into when he was tired or had something on his mind.
"The Army? I'm having trouble picturing you in uniform."
Even before he joined the Army, he'd had to tuck in his sheets. Every morning at juvenile hall, but he didn't bother to set Eve straight.
"Sorry. I don't mind if you pull out the sheet." The painful memory of time spent in juvie for a crime he hadn't committed made it impossible for him to say more. He yanked the sheet free on his side and waited while Eve did the same.
When he stretched out and turned to her, he found she'd turned her back on him. "May as well plan on sleeping late," he whispered against her ear as he wrapped his arms around her and drew her close. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to cross his arms beneath her breasts.
"I can do that." Her words held a smile.
He kissed her ear and tried not to think about the sweet curve of her buns intimately pressed to his groin, the lingering scent of lemons in her hair, or the close proximity of the peaks of her breasts to his fingertips. "Good night, Eve. Merry Christmas."
Her body jerked. Stilled. And relaxed.
"Good night," she murmured after a lengthy wait.
What was that all about?
* * * * *
Why did Nick have to go and remind me of the season? Tucked away here in the mountains, she'd found it easy to forget the never ending loneliness of previous holidays. After earlier ones spent with nannies, she'd spent the others at expensive boarding schools. And later, with kind friends who invited her to go home with them for Christmas because her parents were jet-setting abroad. They'd even hinted about vacationing with Princess Di once, but obviously forgot about their own little girl.
She took a long time to fall asleep.
* * * * *
Nick dozed right off but woke sometime before daylight, his arms asleep, still locked around Eve. Slowly, he flexed the arm he could move without disturbing her. He wiggled his fingers, brought back some circulation, then eased his other arm out from underneath her.
Eve sighed. He stilled. Then she pillowed her hands beneath her head with another soft murmur. He turned on his side, watching her.
It must have stopped snowing. Soft moonbeams magnified by the snow illuminated the room. And Eve. The comforter had slipped down off a shoulder, partially exposing one rounded breast. Her skin glowed milky-white. Her long hair gleamed with an inner brilliance that would put the sun to shame. She looked like a porcelain doll.
A well loved porcelain doll.
Gently, Nick tucked Eve in.
Unaccustomed to the wave of tenderness that engulfed him, he drew back his hand. After breakfast, it might be a good idea to send Eve away.
It's too soon, the part of his body ruled by his libido screamed, reinforced by a decision-making portion of his brain.
What would it hurt to let her stay another day?
Not a damn thing, came his quick reply. He was not at risk. As long as he kept a level head, kept in mind Eve was a business arrangement, nothing more, he'd be all right.
Then Eve's ample butt wiggled against him as she fell more deeply asleep and he realized he could easily get used to having her around to warm his bed.
Better keep that in mind.
Chapter Ten
The sun, streaming in through a curtained bathroom window, woke Eve. Its brightness hurt her eyes. She yawned, turned over, and stretched before reaching for Nick.
Her fierce hunger for him gnawed at her soul, leaving her feeling empty in his absence and delightedly filled whenever he came near. Like a mouse after strychnine-laced cheese, she could not stay away, had even been so carried away she'd engaged in unprotected sex with him.
Each day she faithfully swallowed the pill, so getting pregnant didn't worry her, but reacting so strongly to the man whose bed she shared did. Even with warning signals going off in her head, she still longed for him, dreamed of him, reached for him in her sleep.
When had the tide changed? Swept along by yearning so strong she found it difficult to breathe, she could no longer fight the attraction, could barely keep herself from drowning in need for Nick.
Oh, yes. She was most definitely in over her head.
Nick's side of the bed was empty, his pillow cold.
What time is it? And where is he?
Eve threw off the covers.
Overhead, the roof creaked and groaned as the blanket of snow covering it began to warm. She could hear a steady drip from the gutter and pulled back the bedroom drapes to look.
That's where Nick found her, naked as the day she entered this world, staring outside at an icicle about a foot long.
"Well." He set the steaming mug of coffee he'd brought in for her on the wide windowsill and kissed her bare shoulder. "You decided to wake up."
"What time is it? And what a terrible houseguest I am. I should never have slept this late."
"No harm done, I was just finishing some work. Much as I'm enjoying the scenery," he said, his appreciative perusal of her backside making her cheeks turn pleasingly pink, "you'd best put on this robe and your boots. I built up the fire but it hasn't had time to warm the house, so the floors are still cold."
She slipped into the garment.
Damn, she looks good in my robe. The shawl collar hugged her slender neck, and her plump breasts filled out the space below it in a way his own chest never would. Even her belted, twice-wrapped waist looked trim as she tucked the loose ends beneath the belt.
She bent down to gather up her boots, the robe opened and one rosy-tipped breast peeped out. He forgot about everything but taking that puckered nipple in his mouth.
His sudden movement startled Eve. Her eyes widened, but only for a moment. Then she smiled knowingly and took a step back. So much the better. Peeling the robe from Eve's shoulders and opening it to bare her silky flesh to the waist, he took her right there, her back pressed to the outer wall.
She wrapped one fleshy thigh around him and matched him thrust for hard thrust, breathless pant to deep, sensual moan. Her hands clutched his shoulders. Her nails left deep marks. And then nothing else mattered, not the cold wall nor her sharp nails digging into him. His body clenched. Again. And again.
* * * * *
At her tiny sigh of completion Nick stifled an unmasculine groan, then gathered Eve in his arms. Her head rested on his shoulder and she flattened one hand over his pounding heart.
