Wicked in Winter

by Jennifer Bernard

  On the way, she met his gaze and gave him a wink—as if to say, I see what’s going on, I got this—and everything in him relaxed.

  He stepped toward her just as she flew into his arms. They embraced for a hot, passionate moment, then Gretel, flushed and laughing, slid down to the porch and turned to Susan Baker.

  “I’m sorry to be so rude, I just get carried away every time I see my fiancé. I remember you. You’re the good Samaritan who gave me a ride!”

  “Susan Baker, yes.”

  “Ah, the caseworker from the state. Yes, Zander mentioned you. I’m happy to meet you.”

  The caseworker frowned between the two of them. “Did you say ‘fiancé’?”

  “I did! We’ve been engaged for a while, but we’ve kept it low-key. That’s why I didn’t say anything when you helped me out.”

  The woman’s dark eyes filled with suspicion. “I haven’t gotten any updates to the file.”

  Gretel held onto Zander’s hand and gazed up at him with an adoring, besotted expression that totally worked for him.

  “Well, we haven’t officially done the deed yet, that’s why. But we’re about to. It’s really just a formality at this point. I can’t wait to be part of the Ross family. I think an angel brought me to them.”

  Zander dug his elbow into her side, afraid she was overdoing it.

  But Susan Baker seemed to have a romantic streak under her blunt exterior. “It’s nice to see two young people so much in love, and so willing to make a commitment. I don’t see that enough.”

  “Oh yes, we’re all about commitment,” Gretel said earnestly. “Especially considering the boys, you know.”

  The caseworker tapped a finger against her briefcase. “I admit, I’ve been worried about the boys.”

  Zander could think of a million things to say to that, but decided to leave the talking to Gretel.

  “That’s one of the reasons we kept it quiet, so the boys could get used to us being together. Change can be so disruptive. But the boys come first. Susan, would you like to come in?”

  The caseworker waved her off. “I’ll let you two enjoy your evening. Zander, call me when get a chance. We need to set up a time when I can speak with your brothers.”

  “I’ll do that.” He settled his arm snugly over Gretel’s shoulders and kept it there until Susan Baker’s car had reached the road.

  Then Gretel drew away, gasping. “We have to hurry.”

  “Yes. Bedroom, now.” His heart hammered crazily.

  “Not the bedroom, silly. We have to fill out the paperwork.”

  “But—we don’t—I don’t even—” This was moving so fast. Was it really happening?

  “She’s expecting us to get married. Didn’t you catch that bit about commitment?”

  “Yes, of course, but—”

  “I already looked it up. We need a minister licensed with the State of Alaska and two witnesses.”

  “Gretel.” He squeezed her upper arms, trying to ground her.

  But she kept rattling on. “Who do you know that’s a licensed minister but who’s not actually a church minister, because that doesn’t feel right, you know?”

  “Gretel.”

  Finally she focused on him. “What?”

  “None of that is going to happen today. It’s four-thirty in the afternoon. We have all night to figure it out.”

  She blinked at him. Her nose was pink from the cold and he noticed a stray snowflake on the tip of her eyelash. “All night?”

  “All night. But I already have plans for this night, and they don’t involve paperwork.”

  Her lips parted. “But what about—”

  “Don’t worry about Susan Baker. You have her wrapped around your little finger. We finally got some time alone. In a house. With a bed. How about we make the most of it?”

  A slow smile curled up the corners of her lips. He’d never get tired of watching her lips do that.

  He bent down and scooped her up, her knees hooked over one arm, her back resting on the other, a perfect warm bundle against his chest.

  “I know we’re doing everything out of order, but I figure this part should go in there somewhere.”

  He nudged open the door with his foot and stepped across the threshold.

  Chapter Twenty

  How was it that Zander made everything so romantic without even trying? It was the way he looked at her as he carried her across the threshold—as if she was a dream literally coming true in his arms. As if she was the most magical being he’d ever laid eyes on.

  She felt the flex of his muscles as he kicked the door shut behind him, then strode across the living room. “I really hope you’re not hungry or thirsty or have anything else on your mind other than getting into bed,” he growled. “I’m done waiting. I’m not leaving this fucking house until I’ve made you come at least twenty times.”

  “What if the Northern Lights come back?” she teased. Her heart raced in response to his hot words.

  “I don’t care if there’s a meteor about to hit this house. If it does, I want to be fucking you when it happens.”

  Wow, the F-word from Zander. He usually avoided that in front of the boys. He must be really letting loose.

  She was all for it, one hundred percent.

  At the same time, this suddenly seemed like a big step. They’d been dancing around this for quite some time. What if it was an anticlimax? Not what you wanted in a climax.

  When they reached his bedroom door, he couldn’t quite manage the doorknob, so he had to angle her into the right position to open it. It took her a few tries.

  “Sweaty palms,” she murmured.

  “Nerves?”

  “A little. What if we don’t have any chemistry? What if we don’t…fit?”

  “Fit? Of course we fit. Everyone fits. Besides, penetration is only one part of sex, and—”

  “I don’t mean like that!” she cried. She’d read a few sex scenes in old romance novels in which the virgin heroine was afraid the hero’s enormous penis wouldn’t fit inside her petite body. She’d always found that ridiculous. “I mean sexually. What if we don’t vibe with each other?”

  “Then we get a vibrator,” he said seriously, before a grin split his face. “I’m not opposed to sex toys.”

  “Oh really? This is so fascinating. What’s your favorite sex toy?”

  Nerves forgotten, she finally managed to turn the knob and he carried her into the room. He set her down on the bed, more gently than she would have expected.

  “My favorite sex toy is anything that makes you feel good,” he murmured as he unzipped her parka. She’d almost forgotten that she still wore all her snow gear. He unwound the scarf from around her neck. “This scarf, for instance, could be my favorite if I used it to tie you to my bed while I lick your entire body.”

  She squirmed as a tendril of heat curled through her body.

  “I wouldn’t use that scarf,” she warned. “It’s my first knitting project and it might unravel at any moment.”

  Laughing, he folded it carefully and set it on top of her parka. “Hands off the scarf. Got it.”

  He came back to the edge of the bed and she decided it was her turn to make a move. She took hold of the waistband of his jeans and tugged him closer. The outline of his erection was already clear. Through the denim, she traced it with her finger, making a complete tour of that ever-growing bulge.

  He stared down at her, eyes dark with desire. A muscle ticked in his jaw and the tendons along his neck went tight. He looked as if he wanted to pounce on her.

  She rose up on her knees at the same moment that he reached for her. It could have been a disaster, but it worked out perfectly, putting her at the exact height for him to tug her sweater over her head. She was wearing another of her favorites, extravagant peonies mingled with stripes. Underneath—well, underneath she wore a simple thermally beneficial long-sleeved shirt. And underneath that, a t-shirt. But underneath that—she’d put on her very sexiest corset bra,
with laces up the front.

  He laughed as he peeled each layer off her—until he got to the final one. Then he gave a wolf whistle. “Wow.”

  Worth every penny she’d charged on the credit card she no longer had.

  He traced the edge of it, where brocade met bare skin. Shivers traveled from the pad of his finger across her nerve endings, all the way down to the liquid core of her belly.

  Slowly, his heated gaze warming her skin, he untied the bow at the top of the bra. The two edges separated and she hauled in a suddenly free breath. He kept going down the row, loosening each lace, until the bra opened enough to expose her nipples.

  He let out a sound that was either appreciation or agony—or some combination. “God, you’re gorgeous.” She looked down, all her focus on his large, warm hands as they delicately explored her breasts. How could he manage to touch her with so much sensitivity, when he normally used those hands for power tools and axes and snow shovels?

  But then she remembered that he was basically an artist who happened to work with wood. Of course he was sensitive. He worked magic with antique toboggans and moose antlers. Why should nipples be any more challenging?

  If they were, he was definitely up for that challenge. She sighed and shifted back and forth as his teasing caresses stoked the fire that he’d already sparked inside her. When the bra was completely loosened, it fell to her waist. Now she was entirely exposed to his touch and his gaze and never before had she felt quite so desirable.

  He cupped her breasts in both of his calloused hands and lowered his mouth to one nipple—the right one. Which was significant because her right nipple was her favorite. When he engulfed it in his hot, wet mouth, she gave a gasp of sheer pleasure.

  “You picked the best one,” she murmured.

  “What?” He lifted away from her nipple for a moment. She glared at him for halting the delicious sensations. With a chuckle, he put his mouth back where it had been.

  “My right nipple’s just better. It’s more sensitive,” she explained.

  He tongued it harder, making her moan.

  “It looks better, too.” Her voice grew ragged under his intense suckling. “The other one has a pucker in the areola. I don’t know why they’re different, but they aa-ahhh—are.” A spasm of heat twanged through her body. “See?” she gasped. “The other one wouldn’t do that.”

  “Okay, you got me curious.” He shifted over to the left nipple. She closed her eyes, letting him do his thing—but just as she’d warned him, the sensation was weaker than in the other nipple. He noticed the difference, too. “Okay, good to know.” He went back to her right nipple and immediately the wild pleasure flooded through her again.

  She noticed that he didn’t see it as some kind of challenge and waste a bunch of time and energy working on her left nipple. The first time she’d told a guy about that quirk, he’d treated it as a kind of Mount Everest, determined to be the first to make her left nipple respond like the right.

  Zander just made a mental note of it, as if he was mapping the terrain of her body, and that was just another feature to remember.

  For all of his honed physique and military studliness, he was surprisingly not arrogant and full of himself.

  Speaking of honed physique…she dragged herself out of the stupor of pleasure he was creating with his mouth on her nipples and reached for his hoodie.

  Zip. Down came the zipper. Out came the rippling muscles under his gray USMCA t-shirt. She pushed it up, over his abdomen, feasting her eyes on each new ridge as it was revealed. He helped her by ditching the hoodie and reaching over his head to tug off the t-shirt. Finally, she saw the full picture of Zander Ross’ chiseled torso. Each muscle was taut and toned, his skin marred by a scar here and there, dark curls gathering between his pectorals and swirling all the way down below his opened waistband.

  Breathless, she spread her hand across the middle of his chest, feeling firm muscle everywhere her fingers reached. “Boot camp?”

  He shrugged. “Boot camp helped. I got a head start growing up here. I was always a physical kid. Also, we have a weight room. Jason and I work out there. Petey comes and goes. He likes pushups but can’t stand pull-ups.”

  She touched a curl—soft and springy—and followed it down his body to the edge of his pants.

  “No surprise what you’re going to find there,” he laughed, his voice sounding strained. He caught her wrists before she could go any further. “Not yet,” he managed. “You’re going to come first.”

  “Oh really?”

  “Really. My bed, my rules.” He firmly lowered her down onto her back.

  She couldn’t come up with an argument against that. Especially because he was now sliding her leggings off her body. And then her long underwear.

  He stopped there and slowed waaaay down. He ran his fingertips down her thighs, then back up the insides of her legs, to the vee in between. Flutters followed everywhere he touched.

  She’d also worn one of her sexiest pair of panties—basically a thong with a butterfly discreetly covering her mound. It was definitely doing its job on Zander. His breath was coming fast and that telltale muscle in his jaw was jumping. He traced the shape of the butterfly with his index finger, which was absolutely maddening because he touched everywhere except the kernel of nerves that craved it the most.

  But the more she wriggled and pushed at his hand, the slower he went. He left caresses like flickers of firelight along her inner thighs. Sent warm breath wafting across her sex. She might as well be naked, the way he scorched her with his gaze. The delicate fabric provided no shield against it, or the relentless approach of those skilled fingers.

  She flung her arms wide and grabbed onto the red comforter covering his bed. Who had a red comforter? The random thought flitted through her mind. She would have pegged him for black or blue or brown. Simple, non-flashy colors. Stoic. Reserved.

  But Zander had another side—a very different side, all fire and spice. He had a red comforter side and right now, she was at the mercy of that part of Zander. Sensations flowed through her body at a speed and intensity that almost scared her. Hang on, she told herself with the bits of sense that remained. Hang on and enjoy every second.

  She dug her fingers deep into the comforter and closed her eyes. The sight of Zander’s iron-tense muscles was too much sensory overload. His touch was all she could handle—barely. Especially when he returned to her nipples—well, the right one—and set about teasing and licking and suckling until she cried out in strangled desire.

  “God, Zander! Please!”

  He released her nipple with a wet pop and slid down her body to her sex. Frantic, she pushed against him, seeking friction and contact and heat and hardness.

  And he gave it to her. As she wanted it.

  Oh, the bliss of that first touch. Just right, with his thumb directly on the spot that trembled and throbbed. Pleasure speared through her and brought a cry that came all the way from her heart. Just a sound, no words, because there was no way she could come up with actual coherent thought. Not when he was stroking her swollen clit with a mixture of ruthlessness and sensitivity that ripped her apart.

  In a good way.

  It turned her into a wild thing thrashing back and forth on his bed. It was a miracle that he managed to keep his thumb right where she needed it—but he did. With the other hand, he kept her anchored to the bed so she didn’t go flying off. Strong hands. They sure came in handy.

  For an eternity—or a flash—she hung suspended and trembling over a high cliff of bliss. Then he lowered his mouth back to her right nipple and tugged at it with firm lips…and that did it. She erupted into an ecstatic chaos of convulsions that rampaged through her entire body. The orgasm kept going and going, stoked by his fingers and his tongue. He’d taken absolute control of her body and all she could do was surrender.

  She came down slowly, like a wave receding on the beach. Stranded like a mermaid in love with a prince.

  Silly thought;
she waved it away. “Holy wow,” she murmured instead. “I’m out of words, and that doesn’t happen very often.”

  “Words, who needs ‘em,” he joked. Even though he was obviously aiming for lightness, his rapid breathing and pitch-dark eyes gave the game away. The same fire that had just virtually consumed her was still alive in him.

  She grabbed the waistband of his still-opened jeans and finished unzipping them. “We need these pants out of our life,” she told him. “They can go wait in the corner until they’re needed.”

  With a snort, he stood up and peeled them off his body. She watched avidly as his powerful thighs emerged, then the rest of his muscular form.

  “Could you just…turn around?” she asked innocently.

  “Why?” He looked over his shoulder, toward the window.

  She wanted to laugh; didn’t he know how impressive his body was? Didn’t he want to show it off from every angle? Most of the men she knew—

  What was the point of thinking about most men? Zander wasn’t like the men she’d known in the past. Nothing like them.

  “I think I saw a moose at the window,” she told him. He turned all the way around to check it out, while she checked out his ass in his black boxer briefs. Firm, defined, muscular. She wanted to bite those fleshy cheeks.

  When he turned back around, she saw from his expression that he was onto her. “That was petty.”

  “Petty? No way. I’ve been wondering what you looked like in your underwear for too long to be denied. In the classic words of Elvis Presley, ‘a little less conversation, a little more action please.’” She sang that last bit, since it was one of her favorite songs.

  “This kind of action?” He did an Elvis move with his hips, showing off his bulge, now the size of a small boulder.

  “How’d you guess?”

  He lowered his briefs, allowing his erection to jump free. Long and thick, determined, it pointed directly at Gretel. She reached for it, greedy and impatient. It settled into her hand, hot and eager, raring to go.

  “Hello, you,” she said directly to it. “Aren’t you a handsome one?”