They sat silently and held each other for a few minutes.
***
ANDREW thought he had had a winning idea when he pulled Abby into the suite’s shower stall, but now that she followed him there, he reconsidered. In hindsight, the tub in the next suite would have been a better option for what he planned. This stall barely had enough room for one—let alone two full-grown adults. Since one of them was him, a strapping over-six-foot hulk, there was even less room. Abby was facing the showerhead, her eyes shut tight, and sighing in the hot stream of water as it cascaded down her face and over her breasts.
He envied her. In the back of the shower where he stood, it was chilly, and he was naked. He also envied the water. To caress those perfect, perky, just large enough, but not too large breasts of hers, were a pleasure he was quickly realizing he could allow no one else the pleasure of. Ever.
She is mine.
No one else is ever touching my Abby.
It didn’t matter they had only been together for days. Already, he was looking forward to doing everything with her. Everywhere and anywhere. He covered her eyes with his large hands, stepping close into her backside. The small of her back cradled his erection. Good God, she was a delicacy.
“Hey,” she purred, shimmying against his shaft and making him harder, although he had not thought that was possible, with him already hard as granite. She moved to turn around. He stopped her. She twisted her neck and lifted a brow in question. “No kiss?”
“Not yet.”
Reaching for the loofa hanging from the faucet, he grabbed the container of body wash and plopped a sizable amount of soap on the body sponge. He wet the loofa and soap under the spray, and began on her stomach. She leaned back into him, her shoulders on his chest. She sighed, and he could swear her whole body melted into him.
“You know, Andrew. I can bathe myself.” Her words were slurred. Had he not been positive all she drank with dinner was one glass of white wine, he would have thought she’d had a few beers.
She must be love-drunk.
Drunk on pleasure.
“Oh, I know, but this has got to be more fun. It is for me.”
“Fun…” she said as she shimmied her hips again, rubbing her smooth, damp skin over his silky steel. “I like fun.”
“I like you that way,” he whispered in her ear, leaning close enough to lick her lobes and make her moan.
Andrew used the loofa to massage and knead her breasts, making sure to avoid her sensitive nipples. Moving down, he gently stroked the soaped, rough sponge over her thighs and between her legs, not once touching her mound. She was huffing, frustrated by the time he headed back. He began again on her backside, spending an inordinate amount of time on the globes of her ass.
Falling carefully to his knees in the tiny space, he stroked down and around her knees, calves, ankles, and after a quick warning, under the soles of her feet. Then, and only then, he let her turn around. He was face to face with her mound. He needed her more than he could admit. Sliding his palms between her legs, he parted her thighs. She gripped the sides of the stall and hung on.
The sweet scent of her scrubbed and soaped body filled his nostrils, making Andrew crave vanilla in a completely unhealthy way. He nuzzled her clit with his nose. He palmed her ass and shifted her closer, lapping at her folds, tasting her nectar.
“Andrew…”
My name. Her lips. Perfection.
He tilted her pelvis. She responded by raising one foot to balance on the small raised entry of the stall. She was spread wide for him. He kissed her mound, and then returned to her folds, opening her with his tongue, stroking along the sides, feeding from her.
Pulling back, he breathed warm air across her skin. She groaned, and he did it a second time, rubbing his lips across her inner thighs, building her need as she stood there, intoxicated with lust. He tickled the back of one knee, and then moved on to slide his tongue against her clit. He had her shaking with desire. She flexed, and her wetness coated his chin. She was sweet and salty. Pure goodness, and he loved it.
Love perhaps?
He wasn’t sure, but knew it was close. It was definitely more than lust alone that clamped around his chest. Her clit was swollen, hard, beckoning. Slipping two fingers along her folds, he penetrated her and returned his tongue to tease and flicking her bud, nibbling on her flesh as she writhed above him until she came.
He did not stop. He teased her anew. He did not give up, would not, as he had much more in store for her. This was just the beginning. Her body tremored through her orgasm. After a few minutes, she peeked down at him with a lazy, sexy-as-sin, grin.
He grinned back. “That’s number one.”
“Number one?”
“Yes.” He smiled. “I have at least a few more planned before I take you.”
Her eyes rolled back and she flushed pink from her toes to her head. He took that as agreement. Great, she was on board.
***
ANDREW cleared the ship’s crew and the cooking staff from the deck before leading Abby upstairs. It was cool on the water at night, so they wore robes, and he brought up a few extra blankets. The straps of vinyl creaked when he sat on a lounge chair. He invited her to relax beside him in his chair, and she did. She nestled in close beside him, and he wrapped his arm around her. Stretching up, she planted a sweet kiss on his cheek, then relaxed back to his chest, looking up at the sky.
All around them, the night sky was darkened. The stars above twinkled into existence one by one. She pointed them out with child-like excitement as they appeared. Andrew was fairly sure she made up some of the names, but he didn’t care. It was sweet.
“Do you hear that?” she asked, picking up her head and glancing behind them.
“No. What is it?”
“I’m not sure.”
“It’s just us.”
She didn’t look away or smile. He touched her cheek, and she flicked her eyes in his direction, then back at the enclosure.
“Abby, what is it?” His tone serious, all of a sudden.
“It sounded like a click, then a laugh.”
“Oh.” he relaxed. “Nothing to worry about.” He knew what she had heard. There were two boats close to starboard. Not close enough to collide, but sounds carried over the surface of the water.
“What is it?”
“Just wait a minute,” he instructed, training his own ears in that direction. When distant howls and laughs met his ear, he nodded. “It’s other boaters.”
She had heard the same noise. “They must be partying.”
She settled back down. Smiling, she kissed the tender skin where his neck and shoulder met.
“We can leave if you want, and go somewhere else. I don’t want you feeling uncomfortable.”
Abby pulled his arm closer and hugged it. “I’m not. You big…” she playfully nibbled a little on his throat, “strong…” she nipped a path up the side of his neck to his ear, “irresistible…” she sucked his earlobe within her mouth, “hero.” She bit down hard, and Andrew jumped.
“You’re fiery tonight.” He kissed her cheek, and laced his fingers into hers.
“Absolutely,” she smirked back.
They lapsed into silence. The sounds of the neighboring boats disintegrated into almost inaudible chuckles and husky giggles.
“Did you enjoy tonight, Abby?”
“Yes. Very much, and I still am.”
“Good.”
“You?”
“Yes.”
She yawned and covered her mouth beside him.
“Are you tired?”
“A little.”
“Then rest. We can go inside if you’d like. We’ll be back at port in about thirty minutes.”
He covered her up with the blankets. Her breathing became shallow. He was almost sure she had fallen asleep.
Chapter Ten
ANDREW and Abby settled into the private jet after it took off in the early afternoon. They were on their way back to Lake Tahoe.
The pilot came over the speaker, announcing they could remove their seatbelts and move around the cabin. Andrew glanced across the aisle at Abby. She was giggling, a hand pressed to her stomach.
“I love flying!”
“Good. Then we’ll take many more trips.” He stood. Walking over to the bar lining one side of the jet, he stepped behind the counter and pulled out two glasses.
“Would you like a glass of wine?”
“Sure. Thank you.”
He ducked beneath the marble-top, and flipped through the wine list. “Do you feel like trying a vintage from one of my dad’s wineries?”
“Yes. I’d love to try it. Your dad runs a winery on top of everything else?”
He reached down and picked up the bottle. “My dad loves starting new ventures, and he enjoys wine. None of us were surprised when he came home one night and said he had found the perfect vineyard for sale in Santa Rita Hills. I still remember my mom rolling her eyes. It’s not that she didn’t support him. She felt he was already spread too thin with other commitments, and she was well aware of how he poured himself into his startups at the beginning.
“Interesting…and it’s amazing your father works the businesses at the beginning.”
“He wouldn’t have it any other way.” He poured two glasses and took them over to her. “He’s the first to roll up his sleeves for every one of his companies. I think he enjoys that early period the most. This wine idea was probably the hardest of all his other ventures.”
“How so?”
He sat in the chair beside her and took a sip. “The purchase was complex to begin with. It took months to close. I think it was some type of tax lien sale or a foreclosure. By the time it closed, the place had been sitting idle for almost two years. Your dad owns a farm, right?”
“Yes.”
“How large is it?”
“Two hundred acres.”
“Well imagine double that, in rows and rows of abandoned vines, broken supports, rusted out machinery in utter disrepair, and weeds as tall and thick as full grown corn stalks.”
“Wow.”
“The only redeeming quality of the place was the fermentation vats and the bottling room. They were pristine. Everything else was an overgrown, broken down mess. My father decided all four of us would work on it as a summer project.”
“What?”
“Yes.”
“Just the four of you?”
“The first two weeks, yes…along with a winery owner from France that he hired to show us the business. When the man my father hired understood the scale of what we had to deal with, he threatened to quit after a week of toiling. He told my father he was crazy. My dad realized by the end of the second week that the Frenchman was right. We had only managed to clear about half an acre in that amount of time.
“After working from dawn to dusk for fourteen days and seeing the insignificant amount of progress we had made, he hired fifty farm workers and purchased all new equipment. Everything moved smoothly after that, and by the end of the summer, the place was ready to go. He took a more hands-off approach at that point, and kept the French guy for two years until the place was operating smoothly. It’s been a profitable operation since. More wine?”
“Yes. Please. That’s fascinating, Andrew. I’m sure all that hard work paid off for you too.”
“I can’t complain. I’m glad we weren’t coddled.
He returned to the bar to refill their glasses.
As he placed the bottle on the counter, he noticed Abby had also left her seat. She was nowhere in the cabin. He then saw the light above the bathroom door was red. Occupied.
He refilled the glasses and recorked the bottle, setting it to the side. Lifting his glass and swirling the wine as he had done so many times before, he sipped a bit more.
“Great choice, Dad,” he said softly. The vintage was perfect. His father had fine taste. He took another sip and moved both glasses to the low table. It was set between the two leather chairs on the other side of the plane—his ‘living area’. They were far more comfortable than the airline-regulated seating for take-offs and landings.
He leaned back, crossed his ankles and closed his eyes, waiting for Abby to join him. When he heard the click of the bathroom door re-engage, he peeked an eye open. He bolted upright, nearly upending the glass he had held lightly in his hand.
Abby was naked. Stripped bare. Utterly nude.
She sashayed across the cabin toward him. He shifted in his seat, leaning forward to put the glass safely on the table before he ended up spilling it all over himself. Her panties—no, a thong—dangled from her forefinger. She spun it lazily around and around. His eyes were drawn to the scrap of silk. Black polka dots on a white background.
She paused in front of him, lifting one foot to rest it on the table, giving him an eyeful of trimmed pussy.
“Want to play firefighter and Dalmatian?”
“What’s that?”
“I’ll get down on my paws and play with your hose.”
It was a very good thing he had put down the wine. Choking on his saliva, he suddenly couldn’t seem to make his throat work correctly. He coughed and hacked as she waited for an answer.
“Uh…” he cleared his throat, a disconcerting squeak erupting from his mouth. “Abby? Is everything all right?”
“Yes, Andrew.” She was all calm. Sexy. Way too creative, he decided on the spot.
He swallowed another lump. “Maybe later.”
The thong stopped spinning. She gathered it in a fist, and planting her fists on her hips, stuck out her chin and pouted. Her eyes went cold.
He sure as hell did not want her mad at him so soon on their getaway, so he hurried to continue. “Right now, all I’m thinking about is hauling you up, bending you over that counter and thrusting into you.”
She broke into a full grin. “Deal.”
She held out her hands, and he placed his on them. She leaned back to almost a thirty degree angle, pulling him to his feet. When he was standing, she spread her arms out wide. She let the thong float to the carpeted floor and waited, eyebrow lifted. “Move it, big boy!”
He was only too happy to comply.
He swung her up into his arms, kissing her cheek sweetly as he walked to the bar. She wrapped her arms around his neck to hold on. It was already the best flying experience ever. There wasn’t anything the woman in his arms could do or say to make it any more perfect. He perused her body, thinking she was his ideal mate—in every way.
He turned her in his arms and placed her down gently to sit on the marble-top counter. Standing between her legs, he weaved his fingers through her hair and pulled her in for a kiss. He tilted his head down, nibbling on her delicate collarbone, moving down her body as he lowered her to lie flat on the counter. Abby sucked in her breath when the cool stone touched her bare back. Reaching across the width of the counter, she folded her fingers under the edge and clung to it.
Andrew caressed her stomach, and as he began to move lower, she tapped him on the shoulder, waving her hand so he would move back. When he did, she jumped off the counter and turned to face it. She bent forward, placed her chest and forehead on the marble, with fingers clinging to the edge.
“Now I’m ready,” she teased.
Andrew groaned, and smacked her ass softly.
They stilled as soon as the smack finished echoing through the jet’s cabin. He had meant it lightheartedly, but the spark of arousal that followed shocked him, and coursed through his groin.
“God, Abby. You’re gorgeous.”
“Do it again, Andrew. It feels so good.”
He did. He didn’t even think about it. He just opened his palm and smacked her ass softly. She whimpered and begged for another, so he slapped it again. Her flesh heated under his hand, and he couldn’t believe she was asking him for it. God, did it ever make his cock stone hard. Once again, on her pleas for more, he flattened his hand across her backside. She arched and moaned, tossing her long hair back and fo
rth.
That was enough. He was ready, and now she begged for him to spread her and come inside. Running his hand between her legs, he felt her heat. She was ready, too. He let her go just long enough to undo his belt buckle and zipper, and let his dress slacks fall to his ankles. He stroked down her ribs to her hips, and down to her thighs. Holding them apart, he lined himself up.
He entered her slowly. The feel of her warm buttocks on his thighs was amazing, incredible. The tight squeeze of her inner folds surrounding his member caused a bubble of intense emotion to form in his chest. His eyes began to water. He felt himself falling into some new place, some better place.
As he withdrew and entered Abby a second time, his lips parted and he spoke without thinking. “I love—” He stopped mid-sentence.
Do I mean it?
He slid into her again, his knees weakening and his heart leaping.
Yes. I love her.
He pulled apart from her and helped her up from her stomach. He had her sit on the edge the counter and moved between her legs. He had to tell her face to face, eye to eye.
“I love you, Abby.”
She pressed her forehead to his. “Andrew, I love you, too.”
A hush fell over them. The only sounds were the hum of the aircraft. He was ready to give her everything, and committed then—he would set about to show her just how much he loved her.
Chapter Eleven
ABBY looked out from Andrew’s private jet when it landed in Reno. They were on schedule. The weather was mild, and the sky was clear. They disembarked and were driven to the chopper waiting to fly them to the cottage. She was lightheaded. Probably from the wine. Or maybe she was on an emotional high—Andrew had told her he loved her, and she had said it back to him, and meant it.
The route to his cottage seemed somewhat familiar, but from their bird’s eye view, everything was a little different. For one, there was no need to navigate the mountainous roadway. Also, the ride took mere minutes. It was a timely reminder that under normal conditions, they really weren’t too far apart.
Cabin Bear Heat Box Set: A Paranormal Fantasy Bear Shifter Romance (A Bear Shifter Romance Retelling of the Billionaire Redemption Series Book 2) Page 28
