The Seduction of Shamus O’Rourke

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The Seduction of Shamus O’Rourke Page 31

by N. J. Walters


  Unfortunately, the last thing reliable, intense radio station manager Robyn Montgomery wants in her suddenly turbulent professional and personal life is a thrill-seeking former Olympic skier—even if he is a total hottie. She’s had it with guys who hog the spotlight and leave her in the shadows. So why is it that even an icy blizzard can’t temper the combustible heat between them?

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Snowbound:

  Quickly, before anyone could catch him, Sean grasped Robyn by the elbow and eased her toward the nearest ski lift. “I saw Karen head up the hill a few minutes ago. She said she’d be skiing Thunder Run until you catch up with her. Wanna share a chair?”

  “Where’s your partner? Don’t you have to go up with him?”

  “Nope. He’s waiting for me in the warming house at the top of Demon’s Dive.”

  Heaving a theatrical sigh, she said, “I suppose I could bring myself to share a seat with you. You did bring me breakfast, after all.”

  As they moved forward in the lift line, he leaned close, letting his lips graze her coldreddened cheek. “Breakfast in bed. Don’t forget the ‘in bed’ part.”

  He certainly wouldn’t. She’d looked so sweet as she slept curled into a flannel ball, her fiery hair fanned out over the pillow, her mouth curved in a gentle smile. He wouldn’t mind waking up to that every morning, minus the pajamas.

  And when she’d moaned in her sleep, flicked her tongue over her lips, he’d wanted so badly to kiss her awake, to make her moan for him instead of some stupid dream. He’d settled for a kiss on her cheek, a poor substitute.

  She looked like she wanted to say something, but their turn at the ticket scanner came up, and they scooted into position for the lift. A chair swooped in behind them, and then they were swinging into the air and up above the crowd. Robyn’s eyes sparkled as they climbed.

  “I didn’t realize how much I’ve missed this,” she breathed.

  “It never gets old, does it?”

  She didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. The way she took in the view, hanging far over the chair’s side railing, her gaze intense, said it all. Brushing a stray snowflake from the tip of her nose with one hand, she pointed into the distance with the other. “Why is that pine decorated with underwear?”

  “That’s the bootie tree.” At her uncomprehending expression, he elaborated. “Have sex with a stranger, collect their underwear, and toss ’em off the lift at the tree the next morning.” He peered down. “Looks like a lot of people got lucky last night.”

  Her naughty smile made the blood rush hotly through his veins. “What if your partner doesn’t wear underwear? What do you throw then?”

  “Trying to tell me something?” Images of Robyn’s bare body beneath her snowsuit flooded his head, and he shoved them away before his brain short-circuited.

  “You have a one-track mind.”

  He brushed a strand of hair from her cheek and tucked it under her fleece headband. “I’m a guy. We all have one-track minds.”

  “Good point.”

  They continued up, and the temperature dropped sharply when they entered the cloud deck.

  Swirling mist surrounded them, growing so thick that the chairs in front and behind disappeared.

  Beneath them, the ground melted away in an ocean of gray.

  Robyn blew out a long breath. “This is freaky. Like we’re floating all alone.”

  “Alone is good.”

  “I’m not so sure about that.”

  “Mmm.” He wriggled closer so their hips touched. “Why not?”

  “Because I know exactly what I want, which, FYI, isn’t you—until we’re alone together.”

  His pulse quickened as she turned her face up, her mouth so temptingly close. “And then I forget why I don’t want you,” she finished on a whisper.

  Her lips parted and her tongue slipped out to moisten them in a motion that was so unintentionally erotic that his chest constricted and his cock stirred. Had he ever wanted to kiss a woman so badly?

  Knowing the answer and unable to wait any longer, he leaned forward, covered her mouth with his. Her lips yielded to the gentle nudge of his tongue, which tingled with the taste of her cinnamon gloss, so sweet and spicy, like the woman who wore it. A sigh that was a boost to his ego escaped her as she reached around to cup the back of his head and pull him closer.

  As if he needed encouragement to crush his body to hers.

  Arousal rippled through his veins, making him want more than what he could get on a ski lift above the timberline, especially when her hand slid down his arm to his waist, and then lower, where it brushed over his now straining erection and settled on his thigh. His fingers ached to touch her, and he tugged off a glove from the hand not holding his poles and slipped it under her jacket and sweater. The soft, bare skin there quivered at his touch.

  Robyn moaned, arching against him and stroking his tongue with hers, deepening their kiss and turning it into something hungry and urgent. Plunging into the hot depths of her mouth, he smoothed his hand up her ribs until he found the lace edge of her bra.

  This was crazy, feeling her up in a chair lift, but he didn’t care, and apparently, she didn’t either, because she shifted to give him better access. A low growl of approval rumbled up from deep in his chest as he brushed his thumb over the plump lower swell of her breast. A delicate shudder wracked her body, a purely feminine response that called out to the male in him to make it happen again.

  Heat flared inside him, a slow burn of sensation that threatened to grow out of control with every passing second. Her fingers squeezed his thigh, inches from where he needed her to be.

  Silently, he willed her to slide her hand up, to stroke him until the world around them ceased to exist.

  “You can do some wonderful things with your mouth,” she murmured against his lips.

  Smiling, he dragged his mouth away, which was a good thing, since they had started to break out of the clouds. “Oh, I haven’t even begun to do wonderful things with it yet.”

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