I ran the tip of my tongue along my lower lip in anticipation and slipped off my stilettos.
Unsure what to do next, because it had been forever since I last seduced a man, I walked over to the fur rug. Then I looked at the bed.
Both held all sorts of delicious and wicked possibilities.
Wow, look at you. Add a mask, and you really are a different person.
I mentally giggled at the thought.
But it was the truth. In the light of the fire, with the mask on, and with a man I’d never see again, it was all bringing out someone I hadn’t known I could be.
I felt less vulnerable.
I felt free.
Grayson bent down and removed his wallet from his pocket. From it, he extracted several foil square packages.
“Wow, you come fully prepared,” I said, relieved he’d put that much thought into it. I’d come to the mountains hoping to kiss someone under the mistletoe. I hadn’t actually planned to have sex with them.
A lopsided smile slid onto his face. “What can I say? The gift shop came stocked.”
His comment surprised me.
“Are you telling me you didn’t come to Lake Tahoe with those condoms?”
His shoulders raised in a slight shrug, a boyish grin on his face. “You aren’t the only one who doesn’t make one-night stands a regular habit.”
“So, you’re more like the relationship type?”
“Not at all. At least not these days. My career comes first.”
I opened my mouth to ask him what his career was, because his comment conflicted with what he’d said earlier about doing “this and that” when I asked him about his job. But then I remembered—I didn’t want to learn anything else about him.
I smiled instead. “Fair enough.”
Grayson strode the short distance to the bed like a panther stalking his prey.
And judging from the way he was eyeing me, I was most definitely on the menu.
“On the bed.” The low rumble of his voice smoothed over me like hot fudge daring me to eat just one bite.
Let me tell you now…when a man talks to you that way, there’s only one thing you can do.
Yep, you guessed it.
Normally, I would’ve felt self-conscious being so exposed, both figuratively and literally. It wasn’t as if I were skinny. After Stephen died, after the initial mourning phase had passed, I’d become intimate with two men by the name of Ben and Jerry.
Once I’d moved past that phase, I began working out again and became consumed by other distractions, but some of those new curves were reluctant to leave.
Thankfully, the firelight was far more forgiving of them than I was.
Grayson climbed onto the bed and started kissing me again. I slowly rolled over to my back, absorbing his weight and his heat.
He shifted down my body, and his tongue lavished one of my nipples. Not to be outdone, his fingers pinched and tormented the other. Wetness raced to my core, and I squirmed on the bed, desperate for so much more.
My fingers brushed against the short strands of his hair, careful to leave his mask undisturbed.
Aren’t you just a little bit curious what he looks like? a voice in the recess of my mind asked.
What’s the point? I mentally replied. So I can imagine him when I make myself come? Probably not a good idea.
Grayson’s mouth moved from the breast he’d been toying with, and he planted slow, languid kisses across my stomach to the waistband of my panties. Each feathery kiss felt as though he were worshiping me, taking time to memorize every inch of my body, like I’d done with his abs.
A soft, gratified moan escaped me.
He hooked his fingers under the elastic and pulled the lace over my hips and along my legs.
I knew it wasn’t appropriate, but I couldn’t help comparing his actions to those of my husband. Stephen had been the kind of man who removed his clothes and expected me to do the same, and we would climb under the covers and make love. He had never undressed me. He had never taken the time to appreciate my body that way.
Don’t get me wrong, he had been great in bed. But this—with Grayson—was so different.
Like ice cream. You can eat a flavor that makes your taste buds sing. You can’t imagine anything finer.
But then you try a different one. A creamier flavor. A flavor worthy of the heavens.
Grayson was that flavor—the available-for-a-limited-time flavor.
A sad realization trickled through me at the last part.
But I didn’t have time to dwell on the realities of the moment. My panties sailed merrily over the side of the bed. Grayson pulled my legs apart, exposing my sex to him. Any hint of shyness I might’ve otherwise felt bailed to join my underwear.
He positioned himself between my legs, his breath a tickle against my clit. My body zinged, and I unconsciously fisted the sheet with both hands.
“You don’t know how long I’ve imagined this moment,” he murmured.
Huh?
I pushed myself up on my elbows. “What did you say?” I must have misheard him—or misunderstood what he meant.
His gaze darted to my face. “I’ve thought about doing this since we first kissed,” he clarified.
“Oh, okay.” That made sense.
It wasn’t as if I hadn’t imagined a few times after that kiss what it would feel like to have him inside me.
I lay back on the pillows, propped up enough to watch him.
For about three seconds.
That was as long as I lasted once his tongue teased my clit, sending my eyes rolling skyward. “Oh, God, Grayson,” I groaned, already racing to the abyss, a place I’d been heading for since our first kiss.
Just as I thought I couldn’t last much longer, he pushed a finger inside me, then another, curving them into my soft heat. He plunged them in and out a few more times, his tongue still worshiping my clit.
Those lit fuses? They quickly burned to the end, and with the next flick of his tongue, fireworks ignited deep in my belly, shooting me skyward.
Shooting me to the stars.
I cried out his name, the sound explosive on my lips.
As awareness slowly seeped into my satisfied thoughts, I heard the ripping of a foil package.
I pried my eyes open in time to see him roll a condom onto his impressive length.
Noticing that I’d partially recovered from the mind-blowing orgasm, he grinned devilishly at me, positioned himself against my entrance, and slowly pushed his way in.
I groaned as my body stretched to accommodate him.
He paused. “You okay?”
A liquid smile spread on my lips. “Definitely. Please don’t stop on my account.” I wrapped my legs around his hips, encouraging him to keep going.
He plunged inside me, and I released another satisfied groan. Then our hips moved in time with each other, taking…and giving so much more in return. And with each thrust of his hips, I climbed higher and higher.
“Christ, Kiera,” Grayson husked against my ear.
The sound of his voice was all it took.
A tsunami of contractions swept through me, and my inner muscles clenched hard around his length. I’d thought the last orgasm was intense. That had been nothing compared to feeling him inside me, feeling him branding me even though I wasn’t his to brand.
I cried out his name again. This time it was met with him grunting his own release, the sound both animalistic and all male.
6
Kiera
Cinderella only had until midnight with her prince before her carriage returned to its pumpkin form and her dress switched back to rags.
Fortunately for me, I didn’t have the same time constraints.
But as the embers in the fireplace began to slowly die away, I was reminded I couldn’t stay here, in bed with Grayson, any longer.
At that somber thought, my rib cage shrunk one size, making it harder to breathe. All the more reason for me to leave now and not once the
sun had risen.
The man in question slept in what seemed like a peaceful slumber. His mask was slightly askew, but not enough for me to see his features in the dimly lit room.
Was I surprised that he was asleep? Not at all. After the fourth round of sex, I’d be shocked if he didn’t sleep for eight hours straight.
We’d also cuddled in front of the fireplace and talked. Talked about nothing in particular—nothing that would give away too much about our real lives outside the cabin walls.
As tempting as it was to stay here until morning, it would be better to follow Cinderella’s lead and hightail it out of here.
But unlike in the fairy tale, there would be no prince combing the kingdom to find the runaway girl. This prince would be returning to Chicago, and I’d be returning to San Francisco.
I adjusted my mask. Then, careful not to wake Grayson, I scooted off the bed.
I wasn’t familiar with the rules of one-night stands, but I did know one tended not to overstay one’s welcome. The awkward morning-after was always best avoided.
“Good-bye,” I whispered, wishing the night could’ve lasted longer. Yet thankful for the gift I’d been given, even if what we’d shared had been for only one night.
I retrieved my clothes from the floor and soundlessly put them on.
One thing Cinderella never had to worry about was doing the walk of shame. She also didn’t have to return to her hotel room through falling snow while wearing stilettos.
She had no idea what she’d missed out on.
I certainly would never regret it.
Nothing about this night would ever be a regret.
7
Logan
Three weeks later, I pulled the small package out of my condo building’s mailbox and checked the return label. It was from the hotel in Lake Tahoe, where I’d stayed.
Curious as to why they were sending me anything that would fit in a small box, I ripped open the brown paper while walking to the elevator.
The door opened as I approached. I entered and pressed the twentieth floor.
Inside the package was a piece of paper. I unfolded it and read the brief note:
Dear Mr. Mathews,
The enclosed necklace was found in the cabin you stayed in while you were a guest at our hotel.
I removed the lid from the box. A gold necklace with the familiar script “Believe” gleamed in the elevator light.
My gut tumbled two stories, the cable cut clean through. Kiera’s necklace—the one I’d given her as a graduation gift.
It must have come unfastened during one of our super hot sex-a-thon sessions.
According to the date stamped on the wrapper, the package had been sent a few days after Kiera and I stayed in the cabin. But I’d been on the road a lot since then, and it was probably delayed in the mail due to the holiday season.
For a second, I considered what to do with the necklace, but in the end, I decided to do nothing.
It had been from me and not Stephen. It would’ve been a different story if he’d given it to her.
The elevator door pinged open, and my legs made quick time to my apartment.
Had I thought about Kiera since that night? You’d better believe it. But what she and I had shared was nothing more than a single night of incredibly hot sex.
A one-night stand.
A forbidden romance with my best friend’s wife.
I entered my condo, walked to the dresser in my bedroom, where the photo of Livi, Stacy, and myself sat, and pulled open the first drawer.
Smiling at the picture, I dropped the box with the necklace inside, on top of my underwear. Then I returned to my living room and retrieved the iPad from the coffee table to FaceTime with my daughter before I was due at the arena for tonight’s game.
“Hey, how’s the weather in San Francisco?” I asked her after she’d told me about her day at school, and all about Mrs. A—the best second-grade teacher in the whole wide world.…
Part II
8
Kiera
March
“Put your math workbooks away. We’re starting an art project based on the stories you’ve been reading during quiet reading time.” Twenty-nine eager second graders peered up at me from their tables. A moment later, this was followed by the shuffling of chairs across the tile floor and chatting voices.
A sudden need to yawn powered through me. I gave in to the urge, barely managing to cover my mouth in time.
How many times had I yawned in the past fifteen minutes?
At least seven.
I’d love to say I only had thirty minutes left of work; then I could go home and nap. But unless the classroom clock was lying, I still had an hour to go until lunch break.
And after that, I had to survive the afternoon before I was done for the day.
The reason for my exhaustion was a mystery. It wasn’t like I’d stayed up late last night. I’d gone to bed around 10 p.m. after finishing a pair of children’s mittens I’d been knitting for my aunt in Boston.
And then there was that incredibly erotic dream I’d woken up from. The same erotic dream I had experienced regularly ever since the night with Grayson at the ball. My body still dreamily sighed whenever it reminisced about it—which was often, lately.
I collected the stack of white papers from my desk and handed them out. “I want you to take a favorite scene from the book you’re reading and draw a picture, showing what’s happening in it. You can use colored pencils or crayons or both. Any questions?”
How about a blueberry smoothie? a voice in my head blurted.
Weird. Since when did I crave blueberry smoothies? Sure, they were probably yummy, but my favorites usually revolved around strawberries or raspberries.
Once I’d answered my students’ questions, I walked around, checking on how everyone was doing. A murmur of quiet voices followed me through the room.
I approached the table where Livi and Tyler were sitting. The other three students with them were hard at work on their projects, talking among themselves.
“It’s an amazing book,” Livi animatedly told Tyler. Her blonde pigtails were slightly askew and had been that way ever since she’d returned from morning recess. “The best book in the whole wide world. The series is the best in the whole wide world.”
Her face glowed with excitement and awe as she explained the plot to him. A plot I recognized because I’d already read the middle-grade urban-fantasy series.
Ava Quade—my friend and a fellow elementary school teacher—wrote the series under her pen name, AJ Versteeg, but most of the kids and teachers at the school knew she was the author.
“Max exaggerated the truth about what the Fates told him,” Livi said, “and it caused a huge, disastrous mess.”
“You mean he lied.” I smiled at the way she described it.
“Yes, but he did it to protect those he loved.”
As Livi explained the story, her colored pencils glided across the paper, and a griffin took shape. Its head, claws, and wings belonged to an eagle, its body that of a lion—except Livi’s eagle looked more like a colorful parrot.
Tyler’s page was still blank.
His gaze shifted from her picture and landed longingly on her book, Max Thunder and the Ocean of Secrets. His book was the same one he’d been reading for the past three months. It wasn’t even his. It belonged to the school.
“How’s your book, Tyler?” I asked him.
He shrugged. “Okay.”
I crouched to their level. “You can change books if you want. You don’t have to keep reading it if you’d rather read something else. You should be reading a story you can’t put down, one that excites you. You should be reading a story you can’t stop thinking about, one where you’re practically counting the minutes until you can disappear into its world again.”
Livi nodded, her face alit with a wide grin. “Like the book I’m reading.”
His gaze returned to his book, his eyes lacking the glow th
at Livi’s held, and I could almost read his mind.
Tyler was a foster kid.
Don’t worry, his foster parents were nice. They were nothing like the horror stories you hear about. I could tell they weren’t in it for the money, but they also didn’t have a lot of money to spare on things such as new books.
My heart broke for him. His biological parents had died a year ago in a boating accident. Books had been my savior when I was a kid, especially when I felt alone or sad or scared.
“Would you like me to check if the school library has a copy of the first book in the Max Thunder series for you to borrow?” I asked.
With wide, hopeful eyes, he nodded.
I smiled and mentally crossed my fingers and toes. Then I silently wished on all the four-leaf clovers in the playground that I wasn’t about to let him down. “Okay, I’ll check at lunch.”
How did my trip to the library go?
Not so great.
As expected, all the copies were signed out, and the book had a super long waitlist. School would be out for the summer before Tyler could borrow it.
And it wouldn’t be much better with the public library.
My heart aching that I didn’t have better news for Tyler, I headed to the staff room. As I made my way there, I deliberated my options for getting Tyler a copy of the first book.
And after that, the rest of the series.
By the time I entered the staff room, the only solution I’d come up with was that I would buy them for him and anonymously donate them to him. It would be worth the money if the series got him excited about reading.
Chloe, my best friend, and Ava were sitting at our end of the long table. Their lunch bags were open, the contents spread in front of them.
I yawned once more. God, why was I so tired?
Did I have some terrible disease that sucked energy from a person like a vampire draining blood from its victim?
Oh, God, please tell me that isn’t it.
Decidedly with Luck (By The Bay Book 6) Page 4
