That had done Lydia in, bringing on waves of tears that wrung her out. So here she sat, surrounded by the guts of several storage closets and cheerfully wrapped presents, feeling wretched.
Scanning the room, she was overwhelmed—again—and quite sure she could never do this. She should have never come back here, but it was too late now. Emotionally overloaded and exhausted, which seemed to be her constant state lately, she stood, trying to shake off her blues. She needed to do something positive. Something reenergizing.
Something wild.
Lydia wanted to feel like herself again and not the version of herself that she’d been since arriving back at the ranch. She’d been depressed, overemotional and moody—which she supposed was natural, given the situation—but she needed a break from herself. A break from everything.
There was one thing—one person—who could make her forget it all. Just for a while.
Suddenly, seducing Ely was such an obvious thing to do that she wondered why she had been so conflicted about it in the first place. Back home, she wouldn’t have thought twice; she would have slept with him until one of them was bored and moved on.
The only reason she’d been reading more into what she’d had with him was because she’d been on the fritz for the last few months emotionally—her mother’s illness, Tessa’s wedding—it had all fried her circuits. She hadn’t been thinking straight. This moment seemed like the first crystal clear one she’d had in weeks.
Once decided, the need to be with him turned almost desperate. She abandoned her work to head upstairs, stripping as she went. She was covered in dust, sweaty from removing snow and digging out old closets, so her first stop was the shower. She just hoped there was time to get ready before he came home from his errands. He’d been making plans for fix-it projects all morning, and then out finding hardware supplies the rest of the day, from what she knew.
Noting the time, she realized she hadn’t even thought about dinner—breakfast had been huge again, as she fed the guys as they continued to work outside—and she still had leftovers in the fridge.
But food was the last of her concerns. Other appetites were calling her right now.
A smile formed, feline and anticipatory. She didn’t have any of her really fun toys here—she hadn’t expected to need them—but she could improvise. Out of the shower, Lydia ran her hands over arms, unsure if her goose bumps were from the slight chill of the upstairs or from the different ways she could imagine to seduce Ely. What was the most creative way to let him know she had changed her mind about their arrangement?
She could wait downstairs on the sofa, naked. That would get to the point with minimal fuss. Or, she could leave him little notes all through the house, leading him where she wanted him to go. She could take some snapshots of herself in sexy poses and leave them scattered in a path he would follow to her bedroom door.
Maybe send a digital image to his phone? No, that was dangerous—she never let compromising pictures of herself online anywhere. While she enjoyed an adventurous sex life, the last thing she needed was a nude photo of her ending up on YouTube or wherever.
Searching through her clothes, she hadn’t brought a whole lot of anything sexy with her, either. As she picked up a bottle of spicy-scented skin lotion Tessa had made just for her—Lydia’s own original scent—she heard the crunch of tires on the driveway, which signaled Ely’s return. She growled in frustration at her lack of timing. Maybe she should wait....
No, then she’d lose her nerve or let her head take over again. This was about not thinking.
Walking to the window, she looked down and saw Ely emerging from the garage, his arms packed with bags and a duffel thrown over his back. It was all the inspiration she needed, as she tapped lightly on the cold window. Then again, harder.
He paused, detecting the sound, and looked up.
Following her instincts, she dropped the towel, but left the sheer curtains drawn. It would create a little mystery.
He looked around, as if checking to see if anyone was there—she froze, too, not even thinking that she might be giving a show for more than one.
But then he turned to face the window squarely, his eyes seeming to stare right into hers, even through the curtain.
Slowly lifting her leg, she planted her toes on the bottom windowsill, a shiver running through her. She reached to get some more of her lotion, bending forward to work it up her leg, over her thigh. She didn’t look at him, but paid attention to her ministrations, as if she had no idea someone was watching. One leg done, she did the other, and then moved her hands up over her lower stomach, her waist and her arms.
Peeking out the window, she saw that he was still there. Watching, waiting.
She poured out a little more lotion and let her head fall back as she applied it to her neck and throat, and then finally to her breasts, lingering there, playing with her nipples. They were already hard from knowing he was watching. She gasped at the sweet sensations, enjoying touching herself for Ely’s pleasure. And hers. Her breath came faster as she warmed up more. When she looked down again, he was gone.
The slam of a door.
Something was dropped.
Heavy boot steps on the stairs.
The next thing she knew, he was there, standing in the doorway of her bedroom. His eyes were hot, watching her, hunger etched into every contour of his face.
“Finish,” was all he said.
She faced him, met his gaze with her own and continued to stroke one breast as her other hand moved lower, down between her thighs.
She was wet, swollen, and she moaned as her fingers moved lightly over her sensitive flesh.
“Turn and put your leg up on the chair, so I can see,” he ordered, his own breath short as he took off his jacket.
It thrilled her, how he gave orders. She did as she was told, placing her foot up on the chair by the vanity, letting her knee fall to the side so that he could see. Her fingers slipped back, pressing inside as she used the heel of her hand to massage her clit. As she sped closer to completion, her head fell forward, her body giving itself up to the intensity of her touch, his gaze.
“Come, Lydia,” he said roughly, and she did, almost on his command, crying out as her hips bucked and the orgasm made her knees weak, threatening the stability of her stance.
No worries though, as Ely was there, behind her, his hands on her waist. He held her as the pleasure faded and her mind cleared.
Lydia met his eyes in the mirror. It was good, but it wasn’t enough. She wanted him, and clearly he was feeling the same way.
“Why did you change your mind?” he asked against her ear.
She shook her head. “No talking, no thinking...just this,” she said softly, taking his hands and placing them over her breasts, pressing her butt back against the ridge along the front of his jeans.
Ely didn’t have to be told twice, removing his hands in order to shuck his own clothes. Then he was there, hot and hard behind her.
“Yes, like that,” Lydia moaned as the heat of his body pressed into hers, lowering her leg so that she had both feet on the floor. She bent over the vanity, wanting him now. She was even hotter, primed for him.
“Just a second,” he said gruffly, leaving the room.
She wanted to object, to not let any crack of daylight drive away the haze of need that consumed her, but she knew what he had left for, and kept herself hot by touching herself again while he was gone. Back in less than a minute, he stood in the doorway and cursed softly, apparently liking what he saw.
She vaguely heard the sound of a packet ripping, and a moment later he was behind her, his hands coming around to her breasts. Lydia supported herself with one hand on the vanity as her fingers caressed the sensitive spot between her legs. His mouth was on her back, her neck, kissing, licking and nibbling her all over, leaving bliss in its wake.
She lifted her hips, reached back, took him in her hand and brought him to where she most wanted him. He didn’t press forward, st
ill kissing, teasing and driving her crazy.
“Please, Ely,” she panted. Even the tip of his cock felt broad and heavy against her, and she wanted all of him. Wanted him to fill her and obliterate anything else from her consciousness.
“I like it when you beg,” he said with a light chuckle, pushing inside a little, then pulling back, making her whimper. His hands tweaked her nipples and then moved to her hips, holding her steady. “Look up, Lydia.”
Lifting up and planting both hands on the dresser, she met his eyes in the mirror that hung in back of the vanity. The vision she found there was almost enough to make her climax, but not quite—he was her fantasy. A hot, powerful, hungry male animal, bending her over, taking what he wanted.
“Don’t look away,” he said, his jaw clenched tight as he held her firmly, sliding inside in one deep thrust that went so deep she gasped, every thick inch of him buried in her. Her fingers clawed the edge of the vanity, but she didn’t look away. Wiggling her hips a little, she was impatient, wanting more.
A light swat on her backside made her gasp—her eyes widening in delighted surprise.
Ely shook his head at her in the mirror, looking severe in a very sexy way. “Don’t move unless I tell you.”
His demands made her hotter than she would have thought, and she nodded, making herself stay still. He did, too, remaining still and deep inside. His hands soothed over her back, her butt, everywhere, until she moaned from the sweet intensity of it, the pressure that made her need so much more. It was so, so hard not to move against him, but she didn’t—she wanted to do whatever he told her, giving control over to him completely.
It was wonderful.
He slipped one arm under her lower stomach, lifting her up a little more as his other hand cupped her breast. Finally, incredibly, he began to move.
Lydia thought she might pass out from the sheer relief and sharp pleasure that came from the friction of his withdrawl, but when he thrust forward again, harder this time, she cursed from the strength of her response. Ely smiled at her in the reflection, and she smiled back.
Nothing else existed now, nothing but the two of them trapped in this moment, caught in their reflected image in the mirror and in each other’s eyes. He found a rhythm that became her world. It wasn’t long before his moans mingled with her cries, his fingers gripping her backside tightly as he lost himself and she followed him, again. They never stopped looking at each other, not even as their world dwindled down to spent gasps and weak-limbed pleasure.
“Damn, Lydia,” he managed, gulping hard breaths, his magnificent body covered in a sheen of perspiration. He was like a work of art, or, in her eyes, the perfect canvas.
He lifted her up and held her against him. They stood in silence like that, wrapped around each other until their breathing eased. Ely took her hand, leading her back down to the shower where they stepped in and rinsed off. Lydia smiled against his shoulder as he ran the soap over her.
“What’s funny?”
“This is my second shower in one evening,” she said, grinning.
“I can probably make it more fun,” he said, moving the sponge in his hands down between her thighs.
“Oh, I bet you can,” she said, laughing and wiggling away. “But let’s save some for later.”
His hands came up, wound to her hair and she was caught off guard when he kissed her so deeply that it stole any thoughts she might have had for several long minutes. He was semi-erect against her thigh.
“I don’t think that will be a problem” he said, nudging her and shutting off the water. “But I did pick up some takeout for dinner. It’s probably cold, but I figured I would bring something home since you’ve been cooking these large breakfasts for all of us.”
“That was nice of you, but where did you get takeout around here?”
“I drove into Billings and got some Thai.”
She looked at him in amazement as they stepped out and took towels from the rack.
“You drove all the way into the city for takeout?”
“The roads were pretty clear, and I made it back before the storm started again. I guess you could say I had a bad craving.”
“Yeah, me, too,” she said with a wicked smile, though she didn’t mean the food, though that was good, too. She was starving. This was exactly what she needed. This was how life was supposed to feel. Good, hot and easy.
“Thanks for doing that. We can heat it up.”
They changed into some clothes and went downstairs. Lydia smiled a little when she spotted the pile of packages and his green duffel bag all dropped right inside the door.
“In a hurry, were you?”
“You could say that. I almost had a heart attack when I saw you in that window. I, um...” he started to say something, and then seemed to hold back as he picked up some of the packages from the floor, throwing his duffel over near the stairs.
“What?”
He looked at her with so much heat, she thought her bones might melt.
“The other night, when I was walking up from where my truck went off the road, I saw you then, too. Undressing by the window. You nearly drove me out of my mind. This was like a private fantasy coming true,” he said, his voice lowering, reflecting the desire that sparked in his eyes.
Lydia had no idea he had been watching her, and the idea turned her on.
“We’d better stop talking about this and heat up dinner, or we’ll starve to death,” she said, loving how the sheer power of sex had warmed her, made her blood pound and her spirit feel lighter. “But you know, there are a lot of windows in this house,” she said provocatively. “We could test them all out.”
He laughed and she joined in.
This had definitely been a good decision, and she wanted more. After dinner.
* * *
ELY HEATED UP the dinner he’d brought home—the closest he ever came to cooking. Domestic duties weren’t his strong point, but he could manage a microwave. Lydia uncorked some red wine she found in the cupboard. Ely watched her for a second, replaying in his mind what had happened between them less than an hour ago. It still seemed surreal.
She was dressed in thin yoga pants and an oversize sweater that made her look even smaller than she actually was, and he knew she didn’t have anything on underneath. That thought made him want to go abandon dinner and strip off those clothes for a repeat performance.
Definitely later.
He wasn’t sure what had changed; she didn’t seem interested in talking about it—typical Lydia—but when he’d seen her in the window, he hadn’t been about to decline the invitation.
Still, it nagged at him. Why the quick switch in her thinking?
They settled on her living room floor in front of a huge hearth where he had started a fire before dealing with the food. Lydia dragged several large pillows and blankets down to the floor, pushing boxes and piles of things she had been sorting through out of the way.
Eating on plates in their laps, they clinked their wineglasses together and focused on their dinner, enjoying the quiet and the fire. Ely had to say something, finally, since it was clear that she wasn’t going to.
“So what changed your mind?” he asked, keeping his tone light as he stole some pad Thai from her plate, popping the succulent noodles into his mouth.
She shrugged. “I had time to think, and I was also tired of thinking. I’ve been so muddled lately, with the house, my mother, and everything going on. I needed to get out of my head, feel more like myself, I guess.”
Ely absorbed that, unsure how he felt about her explanation. So he was her distraction? Though he could understand why she might need that, and why she might need to feel something “normal,” he wasn’t sure if she had needed him or just someone. If he hadn’t been here, would anyone else have done? Kyle? Someone from the bar downtown?
“You said it was fine, that you weren’t looking for anything serious, right?” she asked, and he could hear the tinge of apprehension in her voice, as if she we
re reading his thoughts.
He had said that, and he meant it. Still, describing what had happened between them as “no big deal” bothered him, too.
“I did. I guess I’d like to think it was something of a big deal, at least right now,” he said, meeting her eyes, “that you wanted me.”
He felt kind of stupid telling her, but so be it.
She smiled a little. “I forget, the male ego is such a fragile thing. Of course it was because I wanted you, and it was very nice.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Nice? It was nice?”
“I said very nice,” she corrected, stealing some food from his plate, as well.
“I think it was way better than nice,” he countered.
“I’m glad.”
He knew she was teasing him, but called her on her bluff, having fun. He liked her when she was playful, which seemed to be far too rare.
“You think you could do better?”
She smiled, and her eyes shone in a way that made her light up inside. He loved it when she smiled like that.
“Are you daring me to make it even better?” she asked mischievously. “Hotter? More satisfying?”
Ely’s nerve endings—especially the ones south of the border—were very interested in her dare.
“You couldn’t possibly,” he said calmly, licking some sauce from his fingers.
“Well, I guess we’ll have to see, won’t we?” she purred, setting her plate aside and stripping off her top and throwing it to the floor.
Ely set his plate down, too, admiring how the firelight kissed her skin. Her hair fell down, hiding part of her face behind the silk curtain, turning her into an exotic creature focused only on his pleasure.
“What’s this symbol here, at the center of the rose?” he asked, letting his fingers trail down her sternum to land on the spot above her navel.
She looked down to where his finger lay against her skin.
“It’s a medicine wheel. A Native American friend did that one for me, after we took a drive out into the desert for a week. He said it represented my personal journey, my strengths, and it’s also a protective symbol. He told me some other things, too, but it was years ago, and I forget now,” she said, touching the mark fondly.
Hers for the Holidays Page 8
