“I’m sorry.”
She shrugged. “Some things weren’t meant to be.”
“This is meant to be,” he whispered, leaning forward again. He took her mouth, planning to go slowly. But as soon as her tongue touched his, all the desire he’d banked came howling back to life inside him. He needed her now. All of her.
As if she was responsible for the very beat of his heart. As if touching her could somehow sew together all the shattered bits of his soul and make him a whole person again. It was foolish, he knew, and too much to expect of anyone. She had scars of her own, and not just the one on her body.
He’d spent so much time wallowing in his own grief that he’d forgotten how it felt to offer comfort and pleasure to another person. Now he wanted to rediscover that piece of himself. The one that wasn’t buried in sorrow. The one that could feel something besides pain and regret.
He forced himself to slow down and savor the moment. Every sigh and moan that escaped April’s beautiful mouth. Damn, but he loved her mouth. He kissed her with every part of himself, pulling her closer and then lowering her onto the bed. His fingers found the clasp of her bra and flicked it open. She stiffened as he drew the straps down her arms.
“Beautiful,” he murmured as her breasts were revealed to him. He kissed the scar that traveled the edge of one breast as he cupped the other one in his hand. She let out a sound that was half sob and half moan as he gently sucked her nipple into his mouth.
Her hands reached around his back, her fingernails lightly scratching a path over his spine.
“Let me see you,” he whispered as he raised his head to look into her eyes. “I want all of you.”
She nodded and he stood, flipping down the covers as he did. She backed up onto the sheets and he reached for her pajama bottoms, curling his fingers into the waistband of her panties at the same time. He tugged the material down over her hips, revealing every inch of her to him. She looked at him shyly from beneath her lashes. With her copper hair tumbling over her shoulders and her skin milky white in the early morning light that filtered through the curtains, he was almost brought to his knees. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. She was long and curvy in all the right places, her body clearly sculpted by the yoga classes she taught.
“You’re staring,” she said, her mouth curving slightly.
“I could look at you all night.”
She laughed, a husky sound that made him want her all the more. “I’d rather you join me.” She crooked a finger at him. “Are you waiting for an official invitation?”
He shucked off his pants and boxers, realizing his fingers were trembling as he did, and then climbed onto the bed. He felt like an untried schoolboy with April, excited and nervous and so damn grateful to be exactly where he was. That gratitude was new for him, and he concentrated on that. Focused on making April believe she was as beautiful as the way he saw her.
Her skin was smooth and he skimmed his hands up her legs. “I want to touch you everywhere,” he whispered, and pressed a kiss to her belly.
“I don’t think I have enough patience for that right now,” she said, pulling on his shoulders until he brought his mouth to hers.
“We have time,” he said, and deepened the kiss. She wrapped her legs around his hips in a silent invitation that he was happy to accept. Sliding into her was like nothing he’d ever felt. It was as if she’d been made for him, the way she tasted and smelled the perfect combination to stoke his passion even higher. He licked a trail down her neck, sucking lightly when she squirmed. Her fingers kneaded the muscles of his back and she arched into him, moaning when he changed their movements.
“You feel so good,” he said.
She whispered his name on a sigh and then opened her eyes to gaze into his. The pressure inside him built and they continued to move together.
“So good,” she repeated, and he felt her body stiffen and then tremble around him. Her tiny moans and the flush that colored her cheeks spurred him on and he came inside her, shuddering at the power of his release. She held him and he continued to drop gentle kisses at the base of her throat before scooping her into his arms and turning so that she was sprawled across him.
They lay like that for several minutes and Connor finally felt his heartbeat return to normal. She lifted her head, resting her chin on his chest. He could feel her gaze but wasn’t ready to open his eyes. Couldn’t risk her seeing what this moment meant to him. He had no intention of changing his plans. This was temporary. A holiday fling.
His stomach tightened, rejecting his brain’s intention, but he ignored it. He’d become a master at ignoring his feelings. There was no reason to change now.
“What are you thinking?” she asked softly, and he was struck by the wariness in her tone. How was it possible that this woman could read him so easily?
“No words,” he said, schooling his expression as he met her gaze. “There are no words for how amazing that was.”
She studied him for a moment before flashing a quick smile. “Even from the writer?”
No words, he wanted to tell her, would keep his heart safe from being destroyed when this ended. All the ways he didn’t want it to end scared the hell out of him so, instead of answering, he kissed her again. As if he could wrench out every bit of pleasure from her and somehow make it enough to allow him to walk away.
Chapter Seven
Connor pressed his fingers to the cold glass the next afternoon as he watched the girls and April play in the small clearing behind the cabin. They were bundled up in parkas, hats and mittens. It had snowed again overnight, and April’s bright hair seemed to sparkle against the reflection of the pristine layer of snow enveloping the ground and surrounding trees.
Ranie was on her knees, rolling a ball of snow across the clearing. Shay applauded as the ball, clearly intended to be the base of a snowman, got bigger. She started to shout something to her sister, then clapped a mittened hand over her mouth. April said something he couldn’t make out before glancing up at his bedroom window.
Instinctively, he backed out of sight. He hadn’t seen her since he’d left her bed late last night. She’d been asleep next to him, her hair fanned out in glorious waves across the pillow. She’d looked so peaceful and content, and he’d wanted to stay wrapped around her all night long. But he was afraid that would send the wrong message about what was between them so had sneaked out, back to the stillness of his own cabin.
Instead of sleeping, he’d sat down in front of his laptop. He’d expected to stare at the blank screen, his frustration mounting until his head was a jumble of anger and disillusionment. But, as had happened over and over in the past few days, his fingers had flown across the keyboard, pumping out words and scenes that had been locked inside him since Margo’s and Emmett’s deaths. He was so close to the end of the book, and his momentum continued to grow.
It triggered both relief and guilt, because somehow losing his gift had seemed a form of penance for living when his family had perished. It had been inadequate punishment, but it was something.
Now he had his story and April. It was almost too much. The unfamiliar happiness that washed through him was both a balm to his sorrow and a jab at the misery that had been his constant companion.
With one last glance out the window, he forced himself to sit back down at the bedroom’s rolltop writing desk. He’d sent off an email to his editor early this morning, telling her he’d be delivering the story she was waiting for by the end of his two weeks at the cabin. Now he opened her response, an enthusiastic paragraph about pushing up release dates and a potential media tour. Panic gripped Connor’s chest and he slammed shut the laptop screen.
Another happy shout drew him to the window. Although she faced Shay, April pointed at the cabin, her back to him. Connor had a perfect view of Shay’s face as her sweet smile faded and sh
e dropped her head to stare at the ground. He could almost hear April’s sigh as she bent to wrap her arms around the girl.
In that moment he’d never felt like a bigger ass. Those girls, who had lost so much, couldn’t even enjoy a day out in the snow because he’d demanded peace and quiet. The truth was that at the start of his career, before he’d had a home office, he’d often written in bustling coffee shops, proud of his ability to block out background noise as he concentrated. Even after Emmett was born, he’d heard the sounds of baby cries from his desk when Margo came home from work and took over the parenting. There was no reason for him to insist on perfect quiet other than his wolfish agitation at hearing young voices.
But the sounds didn’t poke at his sanity the way they had after the accident. At that time, any high-pitched sound reminded him of Emmett and the boy’s scream in that last moment before the truck had slammed into their vehicle. It was one of the main reasons Connor had become such a hermit. He was afraid of being swallowed by panic and not having the ability to snap himself out of it. But he’d grown weary of giving his demons so much power.
He hurried down the stairs, shrugging into his coat as he grabbed a pair of gloves and knit cap from the storage bench by the back door. The sunshine bouncing off the snow had him squinting, and he took a pair of sunglasses from his coat pocket and slid them on. April and both girls looked up as he rounded the corner to the back of the house.
April moved toward him quickly, her thick boots crunching in the snow. She held out her hands as if to physically stop him. “It was just a little shout,” she said, her voice pitched low. “It’s hard to stay quiet when you’re five, but she’s trying.”
He looked over her shoulder to the girls. Ranie had come to stand next to Shay, her arm wrapped protectively around her sister’s shoulders. The older girl glared at Connor as Shay chewed on her bottom lip. He realized he hadn’t seen the girls since he’d fled after their trip to town and now they expected he was here to complain and yell.
Great. Now he felt like a bigger ass.
“I’ve come to help,” he said quickly.
April blinked like he was speaking a foreign language.
“With the snowman,” he clarified.
“Did you fall and hit your head sneaking away last night?”
“I didn’t sneak away,” he said through clenched teeth. “You were asleep.”
She poked him in the chest. “Because you snuck out of bed without waking me.”
He took off one glove and tapped his finger to the tip of her cold nose. She drew away, making him smile. “You’re beautiful when you’re angry, but not as beautiful as you are with your hair spread out over the white sheets and not nearly as lovely as when I was deep in—”
“Okay, girls,” April called, whirling away from him but not before he saw the blush coloring her cheeks. “Connor’s going to help us with the snowman.”
“Do we still have to be quiet?” Shay asked, continuing to nibble on her lip.
April glanced over her shoulder, one brow arched. If eyebrows could speak, hers would be saying, See what a jackass you are. But he didn’t need her to enlighten him.
He shook his head, moving toward the girls. “You can be as loud as you want,” he said, crouching in front of Shay. “I’ve gotten a lot of writing done this week and I appreciate how you’ve helped me. Things are going well enough that I can take a break, and even when I go back to work, you can make noise.”
“I don’t want to bother you,” she said quietly.
“You don’t, sweet girl. How’s that baby kitten?”
Shay’s face immediately lit with pleasure. “He drinks from a bottle and sleeps with me and Ranie. We’re going to bake cookies after the snowman. You can help and then you’ll see him.”
“He doesn’t want to bake cookies,” Ranie muttered.
“Do I get to lick the batter bowl if I help?”
Shay nodded. “Yep. We each get a spoon. At least that’s how Mommy did it.”
“Sounds like a plan to me,” April said from where she stood a few feet away.
Connor straightened. “Are you better at making snowmen than ice skating?” he asked, sliding a glance at Ranie.
Her mouth dropped open. “I was great at ice skating.”
He shrugged. “With some coaching. You need help with Frosty?”
“I can roll a way bigger snowman than you.”
“We’ll see about that,” he said with a grin. “How about a wager? Whoever builds the biggest snowman gets first dibs at the batter bowl?”
Shay giggled. “Ranie loves cookie dough.”
He pointed at the older girl. “Then you’d better get rolling.”
“You’re on,” she said, returning his smile before she took off for the corner of the clearing where the snow was deepest.
Connor turned to April.
“How do you do that?” she asked. “Make things good with her so easily? Other than when she’s holding that cat, I can barely get her to crack a smile.”
He leaned in close. “Maybe I have a gift with words and prickly women.”
“I am not prickly,” she protested.
“I know. You’re perfect.” He glanced over to make sure Ranie and Shay were busy, then brushed his mouth across April’s. She tasted like cold and mint, and he wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around her until she was warm and pliant under him. “I didn’t sneak away,” he said as he reluctantly pulled back.
She gave a delicate snort.
“I walked away quietly,” he added, earning a small smile.
“You’re good when you make an effort.”
“I’m going to make more of an effort.” He leaned in again. “Later tonight.”
This time she laughed for real, and it was more rewarding than any glowing review of his books.
“April, will you help me find a nose for Ranie’s snowman?” Shay called. “We’re helping her beat Connor.”
April reached down, grabbed a handful of snow and threw it directly at his face. “You’d better get rolling,” she said, and ran off to join the girls.
His demons were silent as he watched her go. She was the only thing he’d found that could effortlessly keep them at bay. They were no match for the joy she brought to his slowly brightening life.
With a tremor of unfamiliar hope unfurling inside him, he bent to the ground and started rolling.
* * *
“You know there are carbs in that pizza crust.” April nudged Connor as he helped himself to another slice later that night.
“What’s a carb?” Shay asked, wiping her hand across her mouth.
“Napkin,” April said at the same time as Connor, and then slanted him a small smile.
Shay bounced up and down in her seat. “Jinx,” she called out. “You owe each other a soda.”
April had no idea what she was talking about, but Connor answered, “The jinx machine is out of order. Please insert another quarter.”
Ranie rolled her eyes, but Shay’s gaze widened. “How do you know about jinx?”
Connor took a breath. “My son loved getting jinxed,” he said after a moment.
Shay nodded. “I wish I could have met him. I don’t have many friends my age.”
“He would have been eight next month.” Connor placed the piece of pizza back on his plate. “But he loved playing with kids of all different ages. I’m sure you would have been good friends.”
Silence descended for a moment and then Ranie pushed away her chair from the table. “Shay, let’s clear our plates and I’ll show you that new app I downloaded on my iPad.”
The younger girl lifted her hand to her mouth. She reached for her napkin and wiped it across her lips. “I’m sorry you’re really bad at making snowmen,” she said to Conn
or, and then followed Ranie to the kitchen.
April tried to hide her smile as Connor turned to her.
“Really bad?” he asked.
“Pretty awful,” she told him.
“He was just a little off-center. It gave him character.”
“His head fell off before you’d taken two steps away.”
“Maybe,” he admitted, “making snowmen isn’t one of my gifts.”
She rested her head on his shoulder. “You have others.”
He pointed to the two empty seats across from them. “I can sure clear a room.”
“Is it difficult to talk about your son?”
He took so long to answer she wasn’t sure he was going to. Then he said, “To some people, but not Shay. She’s so matter-of-fact about it. Most of my friends and family either tiptoe around the subject or immediately start to cry when they see me. After the accident, Margo’s mom would call me every day to tell me details of Margo’s life when she was a girl.” He closed his eyes for a moment, the soft Southern drawl of his mother-in-law’s voice echoing in his mind. “Some of the stories I’d heard before, but the constant barrage of details when I was already so broken...” He opened his eyes again, met her gaze as she tipped her head to look at him. “I stopped taking her calls. I turned off my machine. I couldn’t...”
“It’s okay.”
He shook his head. “Her parents were as heartbroken as me. They lost their only daughter. I didn’t protect my family. I was too weak—”
“I read more reports about the accident on the internet,” April told him. She felt him stiffen. “You couldn’t have done anything.”
“I could have gotten them out of the car before it caught on fire. I was too fat and out of shape to move when it mattered.” He pushed the abandoned plate toward the center of the table. “It’s why I got healthy. No carbs. Lots of protein and exercise. I won’t ever fail someone I love again.” He gave a gruff laugh that broke her heart a little. “Of course, there’s no one left alive who I love.”
Christmas on Crimson Mountain Page 9
