Last night she’d retreated to her room to think—or not to think, as it turned out. She’d pulled out her iPad and watched YouTube videos about yoga and how to truss a turkey. She’d watched makeup tutorials and learned how to build a “capsule wardrobe.” She’d checked her social media and used her meditation app and played a colorful puzzle game on her iPhone. None of those distractions took her mind off Chase.
Or how she’d walked away last night when what she’d wanted to do was say not just yes, but hell yes to his offer. He’d told her the truth about what he wanted, and she hadn’t been brave enough to do the same for him.
“When did you become such a coward?” It wasn’t like she could hide from him the entire time she was here.
She peeked through the curtains and saw that Chase did indeed own boots. He was wearing a pair, and hunks of snow covered his knit hat and black coat. He hefted another heavy shovel load and stopped to take a breather. How long had he been out there?
He looked cold, his face red from windburn, and the snow wasn’t slowing. The area he’d cleared was already filling in with fresh flakes.
Well. She wasn’t going to stay ensconced in her bedroom like a princess in a castle. She wasn’t afraid of hard work. She layered a pair of yoga pants under her jeans and slipped her feet into two pairs of socks before pulling on her boots. By the time she buttoned her coat and stepped into the garage—after first finding the door to the garage in the massive house—she blinked in surprise at what she saw.
Not at Chase’s new SUV, which he’d purchased after landing in Bigfork, but by what sat next to it. Her truck. He’d found her keys and then shoveled her out before parking her truck in a spot next to his. She skirted a puddle of melted snow, in search of a shovel to help him in his endeavors, kicking a gas can on the way. She nudged it with her boot. Empty.
He’d filled her tank.
She shut the cabinet and punched the button for the garage door, watching as it rolled up and revealed first a pair of tied boots, then snow-covered jeans and then his long wool coat. When the door sat at the top of its hinges, the rest of Chase was revealed—his breath visible from parted lips, a knit hat pulled snugly over his ears, snowflakes nestled in his thick lashes... Just the sexiest man alive.
“What are you doing?” she asked. “Shouldn’t you be packing all that snow against the door to keep me here?”
He grinned, a puff of steam escaping his mouth. She joined him outside, the air blasting her face shockingly cold compared to the much warmer garage. The air iced her lungs, but she couldn’t help admiring the view. She walked across the mostly cleared driveway, stopping short of the three feet of snow lining the edge to look out beyond the lake. Sturdy green pines were coated in snow, their limbs drooping from the weight. The lake was frozen—at least on the surface, and a gust of wind swirled the snow over it.
“Beautiful,” she sighed.
“Gorgeous.” Chase agreed, but when she looked back at him, his hand was resting on the shovel’s handle, his eyes were unmistakably on her.
He broke the tender moment with, “I forgot how cold it is up here. Remind me to visit in the summer next time.”
“You filled up my truck. You’re clearing the driveway. Trying to get rid of me?”
“You know that’s not true.”
“I came out to help.”
“I’m almost done.”
“You should go in. The cold has a way of creeping up on you out here. You’re not used to it.” She slipped one glove off and touched his face. It was like the chilly air was embedded in his cheek. “You’re freezing, Chase. Come inside and warm up.”
Sensuality crept into her voice without her permission. She let the offer dangle while he watched her carefully.
“Will you build a fire for me?” she asked.
“Am I to believe that you, the wilderness woman, can’t build a fire for yourself?”
“I can build a fire better than you can,” she said, pulling her glove back on. “But I want you to do it for me. It’ll help you warm up.”
Without waiting for his answer, she turned and strolled through the garage, around their cars and back inside. To her everlasting satisfaction, he didn’t stay outside to prove he could shovel the driveway. He followed her in.
* * *
Well, this is new.
Much as he hated to leave a task incomplete, he couldn’t resist following Mimi inside for a couple of reasons. First off, she was right, he needed to warm up. He’d been out there so long his fingers were stiff and his legs felt like popsicles.
She hung her coat and tugged off her gloves. “I suggest you slip into something warmer before making that fire.”
Like you? He kept that question to himself. What do you know? He was getting wiser.
“I’m going to change.” She started down the hallway before pausing to ask, “How did you find my truck keys?”
“They were in your coat pocket.” He gestured to the living room. “Now they’re on the coffee table.”
She uttered a noncommittal “Hmm” and then disappeared to “change” even though he thought she looked fine.
Ten minutes later, he was downstairs wearing a sweatshirt and running pants, his legs still so cold that the newfound warmth was almost painful.
“Coffee or tea?” Mimi called from the kitchen.
“Both. Either. Add some antifreeze.” He knelt in front of the hearth, looking over his shoulder to catch her laugh, but she was facing away from him. A pair of tight skin-hugging pants rounded her bottom. He promptly forgot about building a fire. No need now that there was one flaming to life in his pants. Damn, she looked good. Those subtle curves more pronounced thanks to the stretchy material. He watched her backside while she reached for mugs and bent for spoons.
When she hid that fine ass behind the kitchen island, he went back to his work. Which was...what again? Oh, right. Making a fire.
“Coffee,” she said when he’d bent to light the twisted newspaper. He accepted the mug and watched as flames licked along the bottom of the wood.
“Not bad.” She reached in and adjusted a log. He snatched her hand away.
“Don’t put your hand in there. It’s on fire.”
“It’s not going to catch unless you allow some air between those logs. Fire needs air. Your stack resembles a log cabin. It’d be lucky to see a faint draft.”
“Very funny.” He handed her the wrought iron fire poker. “Use this. I happen to like your fingers attached to your body.”
She slid him a foxy little glare and he got out of her way. Her butt shook as she poked and prodded his handiwork. That sexy wiggle made him want to beg for mercy—or relief that could only come from her naked and lying against him.
“There you go.” The fire was high and bright when she turned to face him. “I’ll make a mountain man out of you yet.”
“Sorry, honey. I’m a Texan first and foremost. But good luck with that.” She moved to stand and he stayed her with one palm. “Stay put.”
He pulled a folded blanket from the cabinet and tossed it to her. She spread it out on the rug in front of the fireplace and arranged a few pillows from the neighboring love seat on the floor.
He sat next to her and handed her a coffee mug, keeping his own in hand.
“Thawing out yet?” she asked, lifting her steaming mug to her lips.
“Finally.” His eyes slid down her long legs, folded to one side. “I like those pants.”
Her eyes widened, her lashes fluttering a few times.
“A lot.” He punctuated that comment with a nod.
She threw her head back and laughed for a solid three seconds before sobering on a hum and sipping her coffee.
“Only you, Chase Ferguson.”
“Only me what?”
“The consensus by most men is that a rail-thin brunet
te with dark eyes, sticks for legs and a practically nonexistent chest does not a pin-up girl make. Yet you look at me like...” She shook her head, seemingly at a loss for words.
“Like what?”
Her cheeks went rosy and her throat worked when she swallowed. “Like you used to.”
She ducked her head, but no way in hell was he letting her ignore what was roaring between them. Not again. Not after she’d come outside to pull him in from of the cold.
“Like I know your calves lead from delicate ankles to the crooks of the sexiest knees I’ve ever laid my lips on?”
She remained silent, but her top teeth scraped her bottom lip. For a change, she didn’t have a salty quip or sharp-tongued argument.
“Like I know your hair feels like silk, and every time you pull your fingers through the strands I remember what it felt like brushing against my thighs?”
Her fingers tightened around her mug and those big brown eyes kept on staring.
“Like I know flecks of green hide in your dark irises like bursts of light?” He set his mug on the coffee table and took hers from her now trembling hands. “I know that because I remember exactly what it was like to be nose to nose with you, Mimi. I remember what it felt like with your breath coasting over my lips, your eyes open and drilling into mine while I sank deep inside you.”
He scooted closer, hearing her hectic intake of breath and practically feeling the pulse jumping at the side of her neck.
“Don’t get me started on your mouth.” His voice was a lust-soaked rasp. “Your lips were made for kissing.”
Before he could say more, those kissable lips crashed into his.
He caught the back of her head with one hand, bracing himself with the other to keep them from toppling over. An instinct. If he’d had one millisecond to reason, he’d have laid on his back and pulled her on top of him.
Her lips slid over his, the tentative push of her tongue testing his willingness to open his mouth to hers.
Willing and able, sweetheart.
Thirteen
No memories came crashing back to her. There was only the present, only the way Chase’s fingers felt cradling the back of her head. Only the way his rough jaw scraped her sensitive skin as he angled his mouth and kissed her deeply.
His tongue tasted of coffee and something else—something basal and carnal and undefinable. It was him. And every womanly part of her reacted without her brain’s permission.
His fingers left her head and rested on her nape, his thumb stroking her jawline as his tongue plundered her mouth. High, desperate sounds of longing infiltrated the space between them and at first she didn’t recognize her own voice.
It’d been a while since someone had kissed her with such...ownership. No, not ownership. Familiarity.
He knew her body. He wasn’t lying about that. She’d thought ten years had dampened memories of what it was like to be held by him, but now that she was in his arms it was like no time had passed.
He moved his wide palms until they wrapped around her ribs. Heating the material of her shirt and then burning right through it.
“Chase.”
He didn’t respond, kissing her as he slid his hands south, fumbling with the edge of her sweatshirt and the T-shirt under it.
“Chase.”
“Hush,” he said at the same time he found her bare skin. She caught his face between her hands and met his eyes. Smoky green eyes filled to the brim with heat. Lust for her. This gorgeous man wanted her. She was insane for pretending she didn’t want him right back.
“Do you—”
“Don’t talk. No talking.” He didn’t give her a chance to, either. He lifted her sweatshirt and stripped it over her head, mildly perplexed to find another shirt in its place. When he reached for her T-shirt, she grabbed the edge and held it down.
“I don’t remember you hurrying before.”
“There are too many things I want to do to you and not enough snow falling to guarantee you will stay long enough for me to do them.” He canted one eyebrow and regarded her with seriousness.
She decided to shut up and kiss him instead of having this conversation. It was best they didn’t think too much about what they were doing. It’d been a long time since she’d been caught up in the rush of physical attraction. It was futile to resist him. She’d sought him out this morning and it had little to do with helping him shovel snow. She didn’t like him being far away—she liked him close. Really close.
Skin to skin.
He molded his hands around her breasts, still encased in her bra and let out a low growl of approval. “Missed these.”
It wasn’t a missed you but close enough. She reached behind her back to unhook her bra strap. When the cups sagged, his eyes grew dark and hungry. She was in awe now like she’d been the first time she’d been naked in front of him. Amazed that this stunning specimen was so eager to make her his.
“Take it off.”
She obeyed his command, letting the straps fall and reveal her breasts. He wasted no time leaning forward to capture one nipple on his tongue, his thumb sweeping over the other as he pressed his weight against her. Sensitive nerve endings shot pleasure down her arms and southerly. She fell back onto the blanket, his lips and tongue working their magic.
“You planned this,” she panted, her hands raking into his hair. “That’s why you gave me the blanket.”
“Couches are for making out,” he let her nipple go to say. “You and I have more room down here and we’re doing more than making out.”
She clucked her tongue at his assumption, but then he lowered his head again and she forgot about taking him to task. Her hands buried in his thick, dark hair, she savored the tug of his lips as sparks danced between her legs.
He swept his mouth to the other breast at the same time his hands fisted the waistband of her yoga pants and tugged.
“Chase.” Her moan was a frail breath, mingling with the sound of the crackling fire and her lost intentions.
He wrestled the stretchy material from her legs, socks with them, and then he began to strip himself.
Shoes went first, then his shirt. Then he shucked his pants and tore off his socks. She sat up on her elbows to watch the show. His quick, efficient movements revealing every inch of the man she was literally aching to look at.
He’d been leaner back then. He was still lean, but the muscles cording his arms and neck were heavier than she remembered. His chest was rounded—and her mouth went dry as she studied the hair swirling over his skin and marching a path down, down...
He climbed to his knees and her eyes went straight for the promise of what was to come. His cock hung heavy, erect, and she swallowed. That hadn’t changed a bit—that part of him had always been impressive. Able to render her a boneless mass in record time while she called his name on a loud, sated shout.
“You remember,” he growled, on his hands and knees over her. “I can see it.” His lips brushed against hers. “You want me. Admit it.”
It took her a moment to detach her very dry tongue from the roof of her mouth, but when she did she managed, “Egomaniac.”
A deep, rough chuckle resonated against her chest. He pressed his lips to her shoulder for a kiss that was a promise of sinful things to come.
Her if she was lucky.
And with Chase, she’d always gotten lucky.
“Lie back,” he said. “I have to taste that honey.”
Her knees locked together, thighs squirming at his brazen offer. When she didn’t obey right away, he turned his head gave her a serious side-eye, letting her know that complying was the only option.
She obeyed and he was over her instantly, lifting her head and sweeping aside her hair to place a pillow under her head.
“Keep in mind—” he paused to kiss her “—with your thighs locked around my head, I
won’t be able to hear as well.” He kissed her again. “So, speak up. I don’t want to miss a thing.”
He took his time descending, kissing her collarbone, tonguing her nipples, flattening his palm on her belly. When he slipped his fingers along her damp folds, she nearly shot off the floor.
“Sensitive. I like that,” he praised.
He lifted her right leg and she looked down at him hovering there, his lips pressing her inner thigh. He looked good there. Like he belonged there. He’d always fit her in every way—heart and soul, body and mind.
Was it any wonder she’d followed him to Dallas? She’d have followed him to the ends of the earth if he’d asked.
Those thoughts were zapped from her head the moment his mouth hit her sweet spot. She arched, heat blooming in her stomach and stretching out to numb her every limb. Chase was bathed in firelight, the orange glow hugging the contours of his perfect body.
He went down on her, moving like a feral animal and devouring her like a second Thanksgiving feast. It was at once erotic and beautiful. Her nipples peaked and she reached for them, tenderly squeezing the buds and writhing in innate pleasure.
When Chase drew a cry of satisfaction from her lungs she didn’t want him to ever stop. Her greedy body ached for another powerful release, but he didn’t give her one, instead rising from the cradle of her thighs.
“So good,” she said on a weak breath.
“I agree.” He climbed her body, pressing his erection into the crook of her thigh. He nipped her earlobe. “You’re delicious.”
He nudged her again.
“Please,” she begged, wrapping her ankles around him and pulling forward with all the strength she could muster. She was shameless. Absolutely shameless. Before she could get lost in the fullness of having him seated deep, her dormant brain kicked into gear. “Oh, God, Chase.”
A Snowbound Scandal (Dallas Billionaires Club Book 2) Page 9
