“There’s some in my duffel bag.”
Her bag was conveniently on the floor only a couple of feet away. Pulling it over, he handed it up to her. “Would you get it out for me?”
“I know what you’re up to, Trey.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” She handed him a tube of lotion. “You’re making love to my feet, and then you’ll work your way up my legs, and so on.”
“So you think massaging your feet is a means to an end?” He squeezed out some sweet-smelling lotion and smoothed it over the arch of her foot.
She shivered. “I do.”
“Well, you’re right, it is.” But he wasn’t doing it to prepare her for his future satisfaction. He was doing it because she needed this more than she needed an orgasm. “Just lie back and enjoy it.”
“Okay, I will.” She settled backward on the bed.
“I like your gold toenail polish.”
“The spa here does a nice job.” She moaned again. “You could work there. You know your way around a foot massage, cowboy.”
“You inspire me.” He worked the lotion between her toes. Then he moved to her other foot and gave it the same treatment. He took his time, and the room grew very quiet. Too quiet.
Slowly releasing her foot, he rose to his knees and peered at her. Her eyes were closed, and her breathing was steady. She was asleep.
He chose to be complimented rather than insulted. He’d relaxed her with his foot massage, and she’d felt comfortable enough to drift off. She might be asleep, but they could still share a bed. That would be nice, too. They might not use the condoms he’d left in the nightstand drawer, but he’d be right there beside her all night.
Although he undressed as quietly as he could, he probably didn’t need to worry about waking her up. She slept on. But she couldn’t stay like that with her legs hanging off the bed.
Surveying the situation, he mapped out a strategy. He drew back the covers on the far side of the bed. When he leaned over and scooped her up in his arms, she mumbled something and cuddled closer. It sounded like she said, “Has Santa been here?”
He might have misunderstood, but he decided to give her an answer anyway. “Not yet,” he murmured as he carried her to the other side of the bed and laid her on the sheet.
Her bathrobe tie had loosened during the transport, and he didn’t think she’d want to sleep in that bulky thing, anyway. Working carefully, he slipped each arm out of the sleeves. Getting the thick robe out from under her was a trick, but he finally succeeded.
Grabbing one stolen moment, he gazed at her. She was so much more than a beautiful woman. She had fire and intelligence to spare. If she’d only let him into her life, she’d be so easy to love.
She rolled to her side to face the wall, and he pulled the covers up over her bare shoulder. “Sleep well, sweetheart,” he said softly.
“I want skis.” The words were distinct this time, even though her eyes remained closed.
He didn’t have to think very hard to figure it out. She’d been surrounded by Christmas decorations for days. Then he’d picked her up like a sleeping child and tucked her into bed. In her dream state, she’d asked Santa for a pair of skis. That memory had to have come from somewhere.
Yet she’d told him before that Christmas wasn’t particularly important to her. It had been once, though. He’d lay money on it. But now she’d rejected everything that was even slightly sentimental, including Christmas.
Or maybe not. He had a sudden inspiration. If he could get her to spend Christmas Eve and Christmas Day at the ranch, he might revive her love of the holiday. He couldn’t help thinking that once she surrendered to the joy of the season, she’d be open to loving him.
That wouldn’t solve the problem of her heading down to Argentina for the summer months, but it would be a start. She craved the excitement of that sport, she’d said. All he had to do was present an option that was at least that exciting. Personally, he thought loving each other for the rest of their lives fit the criteria. But that was just him.
Turning out the lights, he climbed into bed beside her. He wished that he had a Christmas tree like hers to cast a warm glow as she slept. Her affection for that tree was another clue that she wasn’t quite as immune to the holidays as she let on. But short of getting dressed again and stealing hers, he was out of luck on that score.
He gathered her close, because he couldn’t help himself. Lying spooned against her, his cock close to her silky bottom, created a predictable result. He tried thinking of subjects that would tame his bad boy, but nothing worked, not even imagining himself naked in a snowdrift.
A snowdrift had started all this in the first place. Now he was in bed with his angel, someone who’d been only a fantasy three days ago. He’d had hot, creative sex with her. Yet in some ways, even though she was lying right next to him, she seemed out of reach.
His cock twitched because that’s what cocks did when they were denied what they wanted. He wasn’t going to wake her up so he could get relief, so he rolled to his back with a sigh of frustration. This could be a really long night.
“I’m awake.” She rolled to her side, facing him.
Excitement warred with guilt. “My fault. Sorry.”
She laid a hand on his chest. “This wasn’t supposed to be a slumber party.” She stroked him with those tantalizing hands, those provocative, arousing hands.
“I know, but you’re tired. You need—”
“You.” Reaching down, she circled his stiff cock with sure fingers. Sweet torment. “And you need me,” she said. “We decided on this big bed for a reason, and it wasn’t so we could sleep better in it.”
He turned his head to look at her. “You’re mighty persuasive, lady.” And he was a sucker for the times when that husky note crept into her voice.
“One more climax apiece,” she said. “Then we’ll sleep.”
When he hesitated, she scooted closer, put her mouth next to his ear and told him what she wanted in two succinct words. He was a goner.
But he refused to take her with the reckless abandon he’d allowed himself before. “Turn me loose, and I’ll do exactly what you said.” He gently removed her hand from his cock. He wouldn’t do exactly what she’d said, though. He had much more in mind than the raw coupling those two words implied.
“Lie back.” He reached across her. “Are you okay with the light?”
“Yes.” She lifted her head and kissed him full on the mouth, her lips warm and pliant. He got so lost in that kiss that he nearly forgot what he’d been about to do. Her openmouthed, eager kiss shot messages down to his groin. Ah, yes. First the light. Then a condom from the drawer.
He fumbled for the light switch and found it. He’d be damned if he’d love her in the dark and miss watching her expression. Then he grabbed a condom and held on to it while he continued to explore her luscious mouth.
How he loved doing that. She might act skittish when they talked about commitment, but she put her whole heart into her kiss. He tended to believe her kiss more than he believed her words.
He wanted to be inside her, though, and the condom wasn’t going to magically attach itself to his cock. Ending the kiss with reluctance, he pulled away long enough to put the doggone thing on. Someday, when his world was arranged the way he’d prefer, he wouldn’t have to use them. But that was getting way ahead of the game.
As he moved over her, she looked up at him and seemed about to say something.
“What?”
She shook her head and closed her eyes. “Nothing.”
“Please don’t close your eyes.”
Her lashes fluttered and she looked at him again. “What if I need protection?”
He remembered telling her why he usually wore his hat during a performance. “You don’t need t
o protect yourself from me.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely sure.” He entered her slowly. This time wasn’t about speed and agility or multiple orgasms. This was about celebrating the connection he’d felt since that first moment when he’d discovered her standing in the gift shop.
She sucked in a breath. “When you look at me like that, I...I get scared.”
“I told you before.” He eased back and slid in again, still moving gently. “You don’t have to be afraid of me.”
“It’s not you I’m afraid of.” Her gaze held his. “It’s what you make me feel.”
“Could that be love?” He stroked her with subtle movements of his hips, arousing her by tiny increments, building the emotion he wanted from her.
“I don’t...I don’t know.”
“I do.” He rocked gently within her. “It’s this, Elle. This connection between two people.”
“It’s not that simple.” Tears welled in her eyes.
“Yes, it is.” He kept loving her, wanting her to feel what he felt.
“No.”
“Yes. Two people, finding each other, recognizing each other. The rest is details.”
“Oh, Trey.” She swallowed. “I wish I could believe you.”
“I wish you could, too.” He shifted his angle and felt her tighten. “Believe this. We’re in tune, Elle. Do you know how rare that is?”
She nodded as tears leaked from the corners of her eyes.
“Then stay with me.” He sought the rhythm that would bring them both joy, and she arched against him as he knew she would. “Stay with me, Elle.”
She came apart in his arms, and he followed soon after. But when it was over, he knew that one crucial thing was missing from their special moment. She hadn’t promised to stay.
* * *
TREY HADN’T PRESSED her for an answer, and for that Elle was grateful. If anything, he pretended that he hadn’t said those fateful words “stay with me.” He kissed her tenderly before leaving the bed, and when he came back, he turned out the light and gathered her close. In minutes, he was asleep.
But she lay wide-awake, staring into the darkness. She couldn’t lead him on anymore. Although she’d warned him from the first that she wasn’t interested in anything long-term, he hadn’t really accepted that. Instead, he kept trying to find reasons for her to stay in Jackson Hole instead of leaving in April. And tonight he’d made his romantic, loving plea. Stay with me.
She wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t let herself be carried away by good sex and sweet words and sentimental songs. She wasn’t that type.
But he was, and he needed someone who would allow herself to be carried away, who’d agree with his romantic belief in soul mates and destiny. Maybe he’d find another musician who could share his fascination with acoustical sex. They could have fun singing duets like the one he’d performed with Tyler.
Elle had toyed with the idea of continuing to see him after this long weekend was over. But when he’d asked her to stay, she’d faced reality. They had different goals.
The longer she indulged herself with this hot affair, the tougher life would be for Trey when she broke it off. He’d mourn losing her the way he’d mourned losing Cassie, which would sideline him for weeks or months. If she cared about him, she should minimize his pain, not prolong it.
But telling him that now, when he was celebrating with his friends, also would be cruel. He’d need some private time to work through the disappointment, and he wouldn’t have that opportunity until the group went back to the ranch. She’d have to pretend all was well until he left on Tuesday. That wouldn’t be particularly easy, but she’d do it for his sake.
She wondered if stress would keep her awake all night, but she was already sleep-deprived, and finally exhaustion claimed her. When she woke up a few hours later, Trey was in the shower, whistling. That broke her heart.
He was so cute when he was happy, and she wanted him to be happy. That meant exiting his life and leaving space for someone who fit into his world and his dreams. Someone who wasn’t her.
Toweling himself off, he came out of the bathroom and grinned at her. “Better move it, sweetheart, if you still plan to teach a bunch of yokels to ski this morning.”
She scrambled out of bed and pulled her phone out of her duffel. “Yikes.” It was later than she’d thought, but that was better. No time for conversation about delicate topics.
“I thought I’d let you sleep a little longer, so I took first shower. It’s all yours. I’m finished in there.”
“Thank you.” As she passed by him on the way into the bathroom, he caught her around the waist and pulled her close.
“Good morning to you, too.” He gave her a quick kiss and looked into her eyes. “Listen, about what I said last night, I probably shouldn’t have—”
“Don’t worry about it.” She managed a smile. “You got carried away.”
“Right.” His gaze searched hers, and he gave her a little squeeze. “You’d better hop in the shower.”
“Yep!” She heard the note of false cheer in her voice and hoped he hadn’t noticed. She hurried into the bathroom. “I forgot to ask if you have ski pants for today,” she called over her shoulder.
“Rented them yesterday morning. And a jacket. All the guys will be in better shape this morning. You’ll be impressed.”
“I’m sure I will.” She turned on the shower, which cut off any further discussion. So far, so good.
But it was still early in the day. She had to get through the rest of it, including tonight, without giving Trey a hint that she was planning to end their affair tomorrow. Given how perceptive he was, she might be asking the impossible.
16
HE’D BLOWN IT. Trey had been afraid that he’d overplayed his hand by asking her to stay. But the lovemaking had been so sweet, and he’d thought the timing was right. Obviously it hadn’t been and might never be. He wouldn’t ever know, because he’d been impatient, exactly what Watkins had warned him about.
Impatience was a failing of his, with the exception of his work with horses. He could be patient as all get-out with horses, because he made allowances for the language barrier. But communication should be easier between people.
It wasn’t, though, and his lack of patience with that might have cost him Elle. All through the ski lesson he berated himself for not taking things slower. He’d had until April, for God’s sake. Rome wasn’t conquered in a day, as they said. He shouldn’t have tried to capture Elle’s heart in a weekend.
But he’d pushed the issue, and she’d decided her answer was no. She probably wouldn’t tell him until tomorrow. She’d want to give him a chance to go home and lick his wounds.
That gave him a choice of pretending right along with her and sharing a bed with her tonight or breaking up with her now. Both options sucked. If he went along with her game, he’d get to hold her for one more night. But the whole time he’d be waiting for the ax to fall.
Debating the issue while trying to control a couple of skinny waxed boards on a very slippery slope meant he fell down a lot. He used up his entire vocabulary of swear words and invented a few more. Jack came gliding by when Trey was berating his pucking foles.
Jack executed a perfect hockey stop. “What the hell are pucking foles?”
Trey struggled to his feet, yet again. “It’s from the Latin.”
“Doesn’t sound like Latin to me.” Then his frown cleared. “Okay, I get it. Your pucking foles are driving you nucking futs. Am I right?”
Trey stood in the pizza slice position and adjusted his goggles. “You are so right, my friend.”
“Listen, it might be my imagination, but you seem a little off this morning.”
“I’m fine.”
“If you say so. But Elle
doesn’t seem quite herself, either. I’m thinking there might be a connection.”
Trey gazed at Jack. “I know you’re my boss and all, but...”
“You wish I’d mind my own business?”
“Something like that. I was trying to find a more diplomatic way of saying it.”
“I wouldn’t be butting in at all, except that I already sort of did.”
Trey’s chest tightened. “Like how?”
“Trying to be Santa Claus. Seeing how well you two were getting along, I checked with Carl about Elle’s work schedule, and he’s fine with her taking Christmas Eve and Christmas morning off. So I invited her to the ranch for the night.”
“What—” Trey had to stop and clear his throat. “What did she say?”
“That she couldn’t make it. Too many obligations here. I told her I’d spoken with Carl, and then she made some other lame excuse about needing to call her folks that night, and they’re over in Germany, and it’s complicated, blah, blah, blah.”
“I guarantee she made that up. She doesn’t want to come to the ranch.”
“Why not? I thought you two—”
“Nope.”
“Since when?”
Pain sliced through his heart. “Last night. Technically, early this morning.” That’s when he’d opened his big mouth and killed his chances.
“I’m sorry.” Jack sighed. “That sucks.” He glanced at Trey. “You sure? Because sometimes a woman acts as if she wants one thing, but she really wants something else.”
“I wish that could be the case, but it’s not. Anyway, thanks for trying.” He desperately wished to change the subject. “Nice outfit, by the way.”
“I’m rather fond of it, myself.” Jack’s ski pants and jacket were solid black except for a red stripe down the side of the pants and along the length of each sleeve. He’d chosen to go with a red-and-black headband instead of a hat, which suited a guy who was part Shoshone. His iridescent goggles must have set him back a tidy sum, but they made him look like an Olympian.
“Are you thinking you’ll get into this skiing thing, then?”
Cowboys & Angels Page 15
