by Jennie Marts
He raised his hands and circled her throat, driving his fingers into her damp hair as he drew her head toward him and captured her mouth in a ravenous kiss, drinking her in as if she were cool water and he’d been dying of thirst.
His lips were smooth and slick and faintly minty like he’d just applied lip balm. She wrapped her arms around his neck, his skin still cool from being outside. The whiskers on his chin scraped her as he tilted his head, but in a good way, such a good way. His tongue slipped between her lips, and he tasted like spearmint gum.
Bending his knees, he swept his arm down her back, over her hips, and picked her up, cradling her against his chest as he carried her to his bed. She couldn’t believe this was happening. Things like this did not happen to her.
She clutched his neck, holding on and waiting for him to whack her head into a doorframe or stagger beneath her weight, but he did neither of those, and it was the most romantic thing that had ever happened to her. This whole sequence of events was so unlike anything in her scope of imagination. He was carrying her to bed, and she was completely naked. Just the idea of it made her head spin. Which was quite a feat since her stomach was tumbling and completing a spin cycle of its own.
Colt pulled back the comforter and laid her down. The sheets were cool against her heated skin, and she wanted to shiver, to curl up and pull the blankets over herself, but she didn’t. She couldn’t. She was caught in his gaze as he stared down at her, raking his eyes over every curve.
He was still fully dressed in jeans and a flannel work shirt with a white tee underneath. He still had his boots on, for goodness’ sake. But he looked as sexy as any romance novel hero Chloe could ever have imagined. In fact, he was every romance novel cowboy, all rolled into one.
She thought he would undress, was dying for him to undress, to reveal the perfect muscled chest she knew had to be under his shirt, but instead he reached out and took her hand, lifted it to his mouth, and laid a tender kiss in her palm.
Trailing his lips along her wrist, her arm, stopping to kiss the sensitive skin inside her elbow, he slowly, methodically worked his way up her forearm, along her shoulder, and buried his face in her neck, inhaling her scent.
His hands splayed on either side of her body, not touching her, just holding himself up as he continued his exploration with his mouth. He lingered around her neck, his breath warm as he kissed the soft spot just below her ear.
She dropped her head back as his whiskers scraped along her collarbone and the top of her chest. His hair tickled the edges of her breast, as light and soft as the brush of a feather, as he moved his head.
Slowly, so achingly slowly, his lips skimmed around the tightened nub of her nipple. Her breasts ached with need—she’d never experienced such a sharp twist of pain and pleasure. She arched up, offering more of herself to him, dying to feel his lips on her, shaking with the craving.
Her body tensed as his tongue circled the edge of her nipple, not quite touching it, but so close she could feel his breath, hot and teasing. His teeth grazed the hardened tip, and she had to bite back a cry. Her arm splayed out to the side. Her fingers gripped a handful of the sheets, mangling them in her fist.
His tongue circled and teased, then finally, ahhh finally, sucked the tightened nub between his lips. A moan of pleasure escaped her, and a bullet of heat shot from her chest straight through to the ache between her legs.
She stole a glance at him and caught the slightest curve of his lips. He was enjoying himself as he tortured her. But it was the most delicious torture. Taking his time, he lavished her, licking and sucking, kissing and teasing. A hum of heat skimmed her breast as he let out a low growl, and it was the sexiest sound she’d ever heard.
Her head dropped back as she succumbed to the feeling of purest pleasure. Tingles and shimmers of heat flooded her body, rippling against her skin, and she thought she might die from the feeling. But he was only getting started.
He moved lower, trailing his tongue down the length of her stomach, stopping to press a kiss to her navel, then another and another as he moved lower. She parted her legs, a silent signal of consent, and sucked in a breath as his beard scraped the delicate skin of her inner thigh.
His breath tickled and teased. She was coming apart at the seams, and he hadn’t even touched her yet.
He kissed her thigh before he stood, and she wanted to weep with missing the feel of him.
Balancing on one leg, then the other, he pulled off his boots, never taking his eyes from her. The soft whisper of his zipper sent a thrill through her belly as he unzipped his jeans and thrust them down his legs. Legs that still seemed tan, even partway into winter. A long, gnarled scar wound its way down one leg, a constant reminder of the accident that had changed his life.
Sucking her bottom lip under her teeth, dying to see more of him, she watched as he freed each button of his shirt and shrugged out of it. Grabbing the back collar of his T-shirt, he pulled it over his head, finally giving her the view of his muscled chest and ripped abs.
His body defied description. His legs were strong and toned, his stomach flat, his waist lean, and he had those funny vee things on either side of his navel that made a woman want to go exploring to see where they led.
He stood before her, wearing only a pair of black boxer briefs, and she could see the outline of his hard excitement through the thin fabric. And what an outline. Her inner core pulsed with want.
His eyes cut to the space next to her, and she wiggled over to make room for him on the bed. They hadn’t said a word to each other since she’d dropped the towel, but they seemed to be communicating just fine. He lay down next to her and skimmed the backs of his fingers along her neck, down her chest, across her stomach, then flattened his palm over the curve of her waist.
“You are so beautiful,” he whispered, his gaze traveling up her body before landing on her face. She’d never seen such naked desire in someone’s eyes. Maybe in the movies, but never, ever for her.
She touched his cheek, ran her fingers along his chiseled whiskered chin, finally getting to touch him. She drew her hand down his neck and over the hard muscles of his chest, circling his nipple with her fingertips and drawing a hiss of breath from him.
He reached up and pulled the ponytail holder from her hair, letting the curls fall, and her hair tickled her bare shoulders. He slid his finger inside one curl and rubbed it with his thumb. “Your hair is so soft. I like the new cut.”
“I was so tired of the old me.” Her voice dropped to a whisper as she lowered her eyes. “I needed to be someone different.” She swallowed and boldly raised her gaze to look into his eyes. “Someone brave enough to drop her towel in front of a hot cowboy.”
A smile pulled at his lips. “Now I like it even better.” He brushed her bangs from her forehead and looked deep into her eyes. “I meant it when I said I didn’t want to rush you. Are you sure you’re good with this?”
She nodded. “So, so good with this.” His hard body radiated heat just inches from her own, and she draped her shin over his, tangling their legs together and pulling closer to him. Her breasts pressed to his chest, sending ripples of desire through her. “And this,” she whispered.
He scraped his lips along her jaw, then closed his mouth over hers, kissing her so long and so deeply she wasn’t sure if she was breathing her own air or sharing the breath from his lungs.
His hands roamed her body, skimming over her curves, exploring, touching, caressing. His mouth was on her lips, her neck, his fingers tangled in her hair. His voice was husky as he growled into her ear. “More?”
She arched into him. “Yes. More,” she whispered. So much more.
He reached for the drawer of his bedside table and fumbled for the box inside. He pulled free a plastic strip of condoms. “I think we’ll need these.”
She swallowed, the vixen who’d awoken inside her cheering for joy. “All o
f them?” she croaked.
A sly grin curved his lips. “Darlin’, you might be overestimating my abilities.”
She grinned back, feeling flirty and reckless as she lay naked in his bed, knowing her body was flushed with heat and her hair was in a sexy, tangled mess around her head. “You might be underestimating mine.”
He chuckled, a low sound in the back of his throat. “I hope not.” He tore open a packet and tossed the rest to the floor, then tugged off his briefs and covered himself.
She parted her legs and let out a shuddering sigh as he settled between her thighs. His arm muscles rippled as he braced his hands on either side of her head. He dropped his mouth to hers for another deep kiss.
She dug her hands into his thick hair, her breasts throbbing with need as she wrapped her legs around his waist. He moved with her, slowly at first, then increasing in tempo. She took what he gave and demanded more. It was as if someone else had taken over her body, someone brave and wanton who knew what she wanted and how to get it.
He let out a moan as his restraint slipped, and he gripped her waist, his fingers digging into her sides. She loved it. Loved that she could cause such a reaction in him. She matched his rhythm, taking everything, then giving it back.
Her body was all nerve endings, all sensation. She clutched his back, holding on, savoring the sweet torment as he drove her closer and closer. Throwing her head back, she clung to him, crying out and giving herself to the exquisite sensations as the waves of pleasure erupted through her.
His grip on her tightened, pulling her closer, his teeth grazing her shoulder as he tensed and shuddered. Letting out a shaky breath, he collapsed next to her and dragged her to him. She burrowed into his chest, loving the feel of her skin pressed against his.
Nothing had ever felt so good. So right. Ever. She felt sensual, awakened.
And ready for more.
* * *
They spent another hour in bed, exploring each other and making their way through the plastic strip Colt had retrieved from the floor.
“I hate to do it, but I’ve got a load of hay in the back of my truck that I need to get out to the pasture,” he said, dragging a hand through his messy hair. “You want to ride along or stay here?”
“I’ll ride along.” She would go anywhere with him.
Half an hour later, Chloe was in Colt’s truck, bouncing along the snow-covered lane, happily smooshed between him and Watson. They’d dropped off the hay and were headed back to the cabin. Colt had his arm around her shoulders, and Watson had his head on her lap. Country music played on the radio, and Colt sang along to an old Johnny Cash song. She couldn’t be happier.
Colt pressed a kiss to the side of her forehead. “I was thinking about something, and I have a question for you.”
“What’s that?”
“You remember the other day when we were at the ice rink, and I took you for a ride on the Zamboni?”
“Yeah.” Although she’d rather forget the rest of that humiliating night.
“I was just wondering how I compared this morning.”
“Compared? What do you mean?”
He grinned. “You know, in the cupcake-tingling department.”
She swatted him playfully. “I’d say you compared favorably, but I might need another demonstration to know for sure.”
“That seems reasonable.”
They parked in front of the cabin, and Colt helped her out of the truck. Light snow flurried through the air, and she stuck out her tongue to catch a few flakes. It was so beautiful. Watson jumped from the truck behind her and raced through the white powder in the yard. She laughed as he rolled on his back, making a smudgy snow-dog angel.
“Silly mutt,” Colt said, shaking his head as he headed toward the porch.
Chloe watched him walk away, admiring the view. The man did look fine in a pair of jeans. A giggle bubbled up in her, and she felt deliriously happy. So much so that she grabbed a handful of snow, formed it into a ball, and tossed it at his back. It hit him square in the left butt cheek.
He stopped and slowly turned his head, a mischievous grin on his face. “Oh, so you want to play, do you?” He scooped up some snow and molded it into a ball.
She shrieked and ran for cover behind a tree as he let the snowball fly. It missed her head and splatted against the tree, sending a shower of snow down on her back. Before she could launch her own attack, another snowball was lobbed toward her. This one hit her leg, and she laughed as she bent down, scooping snow into her hands and trying to hastily make a ball as Colt inched closer.
Her hurried throw fell short of its target. Watson barked and jumped in the air, trying to catch the next snowball Colt tossed. Chloe threw another one while he was distracted with the dog, this one landing against his neck, and he hollered as snow fell into his shirt.
“You’re gonna pay for that one, Miss Bishop,” he teased, charging toward her.
She let loose another shriek and tried to run toward the cabin, but the snow in the yard was too deep. Colt easily caught her, grabbing her around the middle, and they fell into the soft powder. He grabbed a handful of snow and held it over her chest. “Do you dare me to dump this down your shirt?”
She laughed. “No, of course not. Why would I dare you to do that? You are obviously used to brothers.” His face was flushed, and he’d lost his hat in the chase. A lock of blond hair fell across his forehead. He was so dang cute, it almost hurt her chest to look at him. “But I’ll dare you to kiss me.”
“My brothers never say that.” He dipped his head and kissed her on the mouth. Light snowflakes fell around them, landing on her cheeks, but she didn’t care. They only made this moment more magical.
Colt pulled back, his lips curved in a teasing grin. “I’ve suddenly got an awful craving for a cupcake.”
She laughed and let him haul her to her feet.
Him having a cupcake sounded like a great idea to her.
* * *
They spent the rest of the afternoon in his bed, then in the bathtub and then back in his bed. Hunger finally drove them into the kitchen. Colt made ham and cheese omelets while Chloe perched on the barstool at the counter wearing only a pair of panties and one of his flannel shirts.
He grabbed the plates and nodded to the living room. “I’ll make a fire, and we can eat in front of it.” He followed her perfectly rounded butt into the living room. She might have seen herself as an ugly duckling when she’d been a kid, but those days were long gone. He thought she was perfect.
She carried in glasses of ice water and set them on the coffee table, and he put the plates down next to them. Grabbing the pillows from the sofa, she piled them on the floor and settled against them as he set to building a fire.
The fire crackled and popped, and she handed him his plate as he sank down beside her.
“I changed my diet when I left home and don’t think I’ve had eggs cooked in bacon grease since I was a kid.”
Oh crap. He hadn’t thought of that. He should have offered her a healthier alternative. He leaned forward. “Sorry. I can make you another one.”
She laughed and pushed him back. “No. I didn’t mean that. This smells amazing. I was just making conversation.” She hesitantly took a bite of the omelet, then shut her eyes and groaned in appreciation. The sight of her with her eyes closed and making that soft sound had Colt wanting to forget the food and carry her back to bed.
“I’m impressed with your cooking skills,” she said, then took another bite.
“Don’t be. I have about four or five things in my kitchen repertoire, and then I’m tapped out. I am fairly good with the grill though, so I pretty much survive on sandwiches, potatoes, and whatever hunk of meat I can find to toss on the grill. I stick with the basics. My mom spent a lot of time trying to teach us to cook and bake, hence my cupcake-baking skills. Now Mason wouldn�
�t admit it, but he’s a genius in the kitchen. He goes all out with the chopping of the vegetables and adding the spices. He makes these steak fajitas that’ll knock your boots off. Wait ’til you try them.”
“I’d like that.” A grin tugged at the corner of her lip, and Colt realized he’d just inferred she would be around long enough to sample his brother’s cooking. He paused, trying to decide how he felt about that. His chest was easy. The idea of her sitting at the table at a barbecue with his family was surprisingly simple for him to imagine and accept.
He wasn’t sure how she’d feel about it. Getting the whole James crew at once could be a little overwhelming, especially for someone who already seemed a little timid. Although she’d sure lost some of that shyness during the last few hours they’d spent in the bedroom. Now she seemed more at ease, more comfortable with him.
And she was a teacher, so she was used to dealing with loud and immature people who could sometimes be assholes. So maybe she could handle the chaos of his brothers just fine.
She took her last bite, then set her empty plate on the coffee table. “I really admire your mom raising three boys on her own. And you were so lucky to have had siblings growing up.”
“I can’t imagine being an only child. Your house must have been so quiet.”
Chloe cut her eyes to the floor, a veil of pain crossing them for just the briefest moment before it disappeared. “It was sometimes. When my dad wasn’t angry or in one of his moods.”
A hard knot of anger curled in Colt’s gut at the man who had hurt his child. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”
She shrugged. “It is what it is. I can’t change it. It’s just part of me now.”
“I think the stuff that happens to us can affect and maybe shape who we become, but I also think we can choose to either let that stuff destroy us or use it to make us stronger.”
“Is that what you did with the death of your dad and the accident that ended your hockey career?”
