by Sarah Morgan
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
HE SECURED THE door behind them, shutting out the cold. Then he grabbed warm towels from the bathroom and tried to dry her hair, but she couldn’t keep herself from touching and neither could he so the towel landed on the bedroom floor, abandoned and forgotten.
His robe went next, the moon sending silver light over perfect male physique.
“I’ve had an idea—” Her mouth was dry as she slid her hand over his chest. “We could just make a poster of you half-naked and slap it on the subway. Snow Crystal would be booked out within minutes.”
He gave a slow smile. “I’m already booked. Exclusively.”
The word shook her. She’d never felt like this before. Never allowed her feelings to be engaged. But she no longer had a choice in it. She wanted all of him. Wanted to know all there was to know.
“How did you get this?” Her palm traced the scar over his ribs and lingered there.
“I was injured rescuing a litter of vulnerable puppies from a river.”
“Really?” She glanced up and the dangerous glitter in his eyes gave her clues as to exactly how he was feeling.
“No, not really—” he spoke through his teeth “—but this isn’t a good time to confess all my misadventures. Kayla—”
“Mmm?” She teased him, took her time, explored him with her fingers and her tongue until finally, when his breathing was shallow and uneven, she dropped to her knees and took him in her mouth, sliding her lips over his silken hardness, taking him deep.
She heard him groan her name, felt the shudder pass through his body as she used her tongue and her mouth, touching and tasting until finally he muttered something unintelligible and lifted her to her feet.
They hit the bed together, rolled, her on top then him on top, his fingers hard on her flesh as he spread her thighs.
She was ready, so ready, but still he postponed that moment, drawing his tongue over her, driving her higher, closer, until her hips shifted against the sheets and her hands clutched at his shoulders. His muscles were pumped up and hard, everything about him completely, aggressively masculine as he used his wickedly expert hands and mouth to seduce her until she was weak with wanting.
“Jackson—” his name left her lips like a plea “—I want— I need— You have to—” The words were as messed up as her thoughts but he knew what she wanted and gave it to her, his mouth on her, his tongue on her as he explored her with erotic precision and a skill that had her sobbing with desperation.
Swamped by exquisite sensation, she felt herself rush toward orgasm, but this time instead of letting her reach that peak alone, he eased away from her briefly, reached for the protection he’d almost forgotten the first time and then drove into her with a smooth thrust that took him deep.
She gasped his name, felt the hardness of him, the thickness of him pulse inside her and felt control slipping. She opened her eyes and stared into the fierce blue of his, and what they shared in that single look was as intimate as the physical connection that throbbed through both of them. He lowered his head and kissed her deeply and then they were moving together in a perfect rhythm, his hand locked in her hair, eyes on hers, inseparable as they took the same wild ride through the storm. It was intense and primitive, her need for him so fierce she thought she’d burn alive with the heat of it. Orgasm ripped through her, and she cried out, consumed by it, the spasms of her body rippling down his shaft and taking him with her. They kissed right through it, mouths fused, bodies slick with sweat, her gaze locked with his the whole time so they didn’t just feel what they were doing to each other, they watched it happen.
And afterward they lay, bodies entwined, not moving.
When she’d recovered sufficiently, Kayla tried to pull away only to find herself locked against him.
“You’re not going anywhere.” His eyes were closed and her hand was on his chest. She felt the steady thump of his heart beating under her palm.
“I need to—”
“I know what you need to do, but you’re staying here.”
“I was going to say I need the bathroom.”
“You were going to say that, but then you were going to run.” His eyes were still closed. “And I’m not letting you do that. Not this time. You’re going to stay right here and then perhaps you’ll discover the world doesn’t end if you wake up in my bed in the morning. Go to sleep, sweetheart.”
Frustration mingled with panic. “You manipulated this evening. You did it on purpose.”
“I planned the part in the forest. The rest just happened.”
She sat up, spooked by feelings she had no idea how to handle. “No, it didn’t just happen.” She turned to him, accusing. “You did this. Magical sled rides through the forest, a hot tub on the deck, skiing, snowmobiling—you were trying to make me fall in love with Snow Crystal.”
“Of course. You were supposed to fall in love.”
With the place, yes, but not with the man, she thought desperately. Never with the man.
He was someone who believed in bonds, ties, families—all the things she would never allow herself to believe in ever again.
And yet, even knowing that, she was lying here next to him. Again. She’d never been this intimate with a man. Never shared so much.
“Are you going to lie down or am I going to do my caveman thing and haul you back down here?” His tone was mild but the hand on her shoulder was strong. Reassuring. She tried to ignore the lazy stroke of his palm over her bare flesh.
“I can’t do this—”
“All I’m asking you to do is lie down. Is that so hard?”
“That’s not what I mean—”
“I know, but it’s enough for now.” He drew her into the circle of his arms and held her there. “You never just live in the moment. You’re always ten steps ahead, panicking.” His fingers stroked her hair gently, and she closed her eyes because it felt good and that terrified her, too.
“I never imagined it could be like this. And I don’t mean the sex, although that was good—”
“Good? Sweetheart, good is the first cup of coffee in the morning or a perfect powder day on the mountain. This was off the scale—”
“Good sex is a matter of physical compatibility. It doesn’t have to be close—”
“You’ve had sex like that before?”
“I— No—” He tied her in knots. She couldn’t get her balance. Couldn’t breathe. “Jackson—”
“This doesn’t feel close?” He lifted his eyebrows, and she couldn’t blame him for that because her limbs were tangled with his, her naked body pressed against his. There wasn’t a part of her that wasn’t touching him.
“It feels close. And I don’t do close.”
“Because it’s safer to keep yourself distant so you don’t get hurt. Yeah, I get that. But just because your parents had a screwed-up relationship doesn’t mean all relationships are screwed up.”
“Their relationship wasn’t screwed up. They never argued.”
“And that didn’t strike you as strange?”
“Why would it? I assumed it meant they were happy.”
“Really? Because that isn’t what it would have said to me.”
“What would it have said to you?”
“Sweetheart, you can’t live with someone, be married to them for years and never disagree on a single thing. How is that healthy?” His hand was warm on her bare back. “There are only two reasons a couple are never going to argue—the first is because they’re afraid, maybe because the balance of power is wrong or other complex reasons mostly driven by fear, the second is because they don’t care enough. There is a third, which is when they’re thinking and feeling the same thing at the same time, but that would make them robots.”
She hadn’t thought about it before. “There’s a fourth—” her hand slid around his waist “—and that’s that you don’t see each other enough to argue. That’s how it was with my parents most of the time. My father stayed away.”
&n
bsp; “With his other family. And that sucks, and if you want my utterly biased opinion, I confess to wanting to shake the pair of them for not living their relationship in an honest fashion.”
“I suppose they thought they did their best.”
“Then their best wasn’t good enough.” His voice was hard. “Either one of them could have said at any point that it wasn’t working for them. That they wanted more. Instead they colluded to live a lie and they forced you to be part of that lie. And when that lie fell apart, as it inevitably would in those circumstances, you were left holding the fragments of something that never even existed. You avoid relationships because you’re terrified of having that and losing it again—” He curved his hand behind her head and forced her to look at him. “But what you saw wasn’t a relationship. It was a tangled mess. And instead of untangling the mess, they just stepped over it and left you there in the rubble. They didn’t even try to rebuild something you could be part of.”
“Neither of them wanted me living with them.” She paused, aware of an emptiness in her chest. “I suppose I’m just not that lovable.” It was the first time she’d voiced that feeling, and he swore softly and rolled, pinning her to the bed.
“They told you that?”
“They didn’t need to. It was obvious in the lengths they went to not to spend time with me. Those first few holidays when I started at boarding school were hideously awkward. The correct term for it is a blended family, but we were never that.” She stared up at him, distracted by the blue of his eyes and the sensual curve of his mouth, feeling more vulnerable than she ever had in her life before. “There was no blending. I used to hear my father’s new wife on the phone—‘we have his other daughter staying with us’—and then there’d be a pause while whoever it was on the other end of the phone sympathized with her. I stayed in my room as much as I could and then the next year I told them I’d been invited to stay with a friend. Deep down, I hoped they’d talk me out of it. That they’d tell me it was Christmas and they wanted me home.”
“But they didn’t.”
“They were relieved. They gave me money and told me to go and enjoy myself. After that they sent me money every year. Why are we talking about this?”
He stroked her cheek with his fingers. His touch was casual, but the look in his eyes was anything but casual. “I like to know what I’m fighting. You can’t remove obstacles until you know what they are. Now I know more about you.”
“You don’t know me, Jackson.”
But he knew more about her than any other person.
“I know that what you believe about relationships is based on one appalling example. I know you’re scared.” His voice was rough. “I know I’m going to change that.”
“You can’t. I’m stuck this way now.”
“That sounds like a challenge.” His mouth was on hers, warm and skilled, and this time when they made love it was slow, deep and rocked the heart of her. And she knew that each time they did this she was making it harder for herself to walk away unscathed.
“Jackson—”
“Close your eyes and go to sleep.” He rolled onto his back, but didn’t release her. “We still have to catch up on the sleep we didn’t get last night, and tonight is half-over.”
She lay still in the strong protective circle of his arms, not wanting to move. In the past, staying had been the problem, not leaving. Now that situation was reversed.
But what difference would it make to stay until dawn? What did one whole night really matter?
She’d wake early and do what she always did.
She’d get up and walk away.
* * *
SHE WOKE TO bright sunshine and delicious smells from the kitchen. She lay there for a moment, warm and lethargic, hovering between wake and sleep. Sometime during the night it had stopped snowing, and through the window she could see a perfect blue sky, the sun reflecting off snow that had the smooth perfection of a wedding cake.
Still groggy, Kayla groped for her phone and did what she always did first thing in the morning. She checked the time.
Normally it said 5:00 a.m.
Today it said 9:00 a.m.
Nine?
It had to be a mistake. She hadn’t slept until nine since—since—she couldn’t remember a time when she’d slept until nine. She never slept until nine.
She sprang out of bed, then realized she was naked and grabbed the nearest item of clothing from the pile on the floor, which turned out to be Jackson’s T-shirt. It smelled of him and she briefly pressed her face in it before dragging it on and dragging her fingers through her hair.
Flustered, she looked at the bed and then at the open door leading to the living area. So much for her plan to sneak out early.
She ventured into the kitchen and saw him, standing with his back to her, frying bacon. He’d pulled on jeans, but his feet were bare. His chest was bare. Her gaze lingered on the masculine contours of his body. She stared at the swell of his biceps, at the hard strength of his shoulders, at the power in those forearms. He was the hottest, sexiest guy she’d ever met, and he shouldn’t be allowed to remove his shirt without issuing a warning.
She thought the moan was in her head, but something must have come out of her mouth because he turned and of course the front view was even better than the back.
“Good morning.” His voice was husky, and he turned the heat off under the pan and strolled over to her. His jaw was dark, his hair slightly rumpled, and she knew she was the one responsible for that because she’d had her fingers locked in it for almost half the night.
She had no idea what she was supposed to say but he didn’t give her a chance to speak. Instead he cupped her face in his hands and lowered his head. His kiss was long, slow and deep, and she felt fire lick through her veins. Her eyes drifted shut. He could take her from zero to the edge of orgasm at supersonic speed with nothing more than a single kiss. By the time he finally lifted his head she was ready to go straight back to bed. It shouldn’t have been possible to feel this desperate, should it? Not after the way they’d spent the night.
Unsettled, she pulled away from him, but that didn’t help because now she had a full-on view of his chest. “You should have woken me.”
His smile was slow, his eyes an intense blue in the light of the morning. “Why?”
“Because I always wake at five. I don’t sleep late.”
“But you slept late today.” He brushed her lips with his thumb and turned back to deal with the breakfast. “That’s good.”
“It’s not good, Jackson!” She ran her tongue over her lips where he’d kissed her. Everything about him unsettled her, not least the fact he didn’t seem unsettled at all. He was so relaxed. So sure of himself. “I have to finish off my proposal, make some calls, wash my hair— Why are you smiling?”
He flipped the bacon. “Because we both know the reason you’re panicking about waking late has nothing to do with work.”
“I thought you were eager to get this project started, too.”
“I am. But I have room in my life for things other than work, and I know you’ll get the job done. And your hair looks great, by the way. Can you pass me the eggs from the fridge?”
How could her hair look great?
She hadn’t dared look in the mirror but she had to look a tousled mess.
Dazed, Kayla dragged open the door of the fridge and found the eggs. “I wanted to write up the proposal, send it across to the office and then be ready to make some calls this morning.”
“You can still do all that.” He handed her a bowl. “Break four eggs into that.”
She smashed an egg and it landed in the bowl with a broken yolk and pieces of shell.
Jackson sighed and fished out the shell with a spoon. “What did that egg ever do to you? Calm down.”
“I’m calm.”
“Sweetheart, you’re shaking.” He covered her hand with his and rapped the egg on the side of the bowl so that it broke neatly. “There. E
asy.” His hand was warm and strong and suddenly she couldn’t breathe.
“I don’t know what any of this means.”
“It means we’re eating breakfast.” He squeezed her hand and then released it, removed bacon and added mushrooms to the pan. “Once a week I allow myself a heart attack breakfast. Today is that day. You can join me. Last night didn’t kill us—this might but at least we’ll die together.”
“I don’t eat breakfast.”
“You don’t sleep late, either, but you managed that.” His arm brushed against hers, and she realized how strange it felt to be standing side by side in the kitchen with a man, cooking.
“Jackson—”
He sighed. “Relax, honey. You feel out of control, but we can’t control everything that happens in life. Sometimes we just have to go where the tide takes us and know we’ll cope with whatever comes along.”
“I can’t live like that.”
“We all live like that. Control is an illusion. You think you’re in charge and then—whoosh—life happens when you’re not looking and you realize the best thing you can do is just roll with it.”
She wondered if he was talking about losing his father so suddenly. “I know there are some things we can’t control, but there are things we can control and I like to control those things. It’s what I do.”
“That’s because to you everything is work, but even that can’t be completely controlled. If it could, this place wouldn’t be the mess it is.”
She marveled at the way he handled the pressure. “I know you can turn this place around.”
“So do I. Unfortunately, Gramps doesn’t, which gives me a dilemma. Do I do what the business needs and upset him, or do I keep him happy and risk losing this place? It doesn’t give me pleasure to cause him this much stress.”
Kayla thought about the conversation she’d had with Walter the day before. “He worships you.”
“I don’t doubt that he loves me—” his tone was gruff “—but trust me to run this place? Make decisions and changes? No. And that’s the part that counts.”
