In From the Cold Page 8

  I snuck a glance at him. He was scowling at her, but she was studying me. She hoped to arouse my jealousy. Had she?

  Whatever my feelings were, I could still deny her the satisfaction.

  Christine stepped closer to Drake again, but he was oblivious, busy trying to pull Yvette’s hood over her head. I snorted, and he focused on me.

  “What?”

  “Oh, nothing.” I laughed, and I swung Suzie up on my hip. She clasped both arms around my neck, still glaring at Christine. “Just looking for a stick.”

  He started to say something, but I shook my head. “Nothing. Never mind.”

  He studied me, uneasy, then turned to Christine. “Look, Christine, we need to get going. The girls are hungry, and I’ve promised them lunch.”

  She seemed to expect an invitation to join us, but Drake merely adjusted Yvette on his hip and turned to go.

  She reached out and stopped him. “Later, darling.”

  He turned away and rolled his eyes—again.

  The poor dear.

  I stifled a giggle and zipped Yvette’s parka to her neck.

  “Who’s hungry?” I asked. And with a resounding chorus of “me”, we marched out into the cold air.

  After a quick walk past Jackson Town Square (where I tried not to look too smug as the girls “oohed” and “ahhed” over the antler gates), we bundled ourselves into The Bunnery. Smells of homemade yeast breads, soups and burgers made my mouth water, and we quickly placed our orders and slid into our seats. The cozy environment had us all yawning in minutes, and I winked at Drake as Yvette practically fell asleep in her cinnamon roll and hot chocolate. I would have liked to linger, but the girls were so tired, we called James to meet us and whisked them home as soon as they had eaten.

  They fell asleep in the car, so Drake and I carefully carried them up the stairs and tucked them into their beds. We tiptoed out, and I pulled the door shut behind me. Then we crept into the dayroom, and I flopped back onto the sofa.

  “Whew. We made it.” I leaned over and pulled my boots off. “I think I need a nap too.”

  “Why don’t you? You probably need the rest.” Drake settled back into the chair by the fireplace. He was looking at me strangely, as if I would disappear if he looked away.

  “What? Do I have something on my face?” I brushed at my nose, but he shook his head.

  He walked over and sat beside me, then cupped my cheek in his hand, brushing my skin with his thumb. I stiffened, unsure of the change in the air, thrilled and terrified by what might come next. My heart pounded and my mind blanked—no words, no thoughts—feeling the callus on his thumb, the heat of his palm. He leaned in and kissed me gently, his lips more imagination than substance.

  He moved back an inch, waiting, still so careful of me, giving me time. He brushed his fingertips over my eyes, my nose, my throat, but it was not enough, not nearly enough. I moaned and rocked forward, my arms around him, my fingers in his hair. I pressed my lips against his, demanding entry. I suddenly needed to be part of him with an urgency that startled me.

  He grabbed me then, pulling me tight, his heat radiating toward me in waves. He tasted of cinnamon and hot chocolate, sweet and rich and warm, and my tongue knew no boundaries. I wanted all of him, and when I bit his lower lip and sucked it into my mouth, he groaned and clasped me tighter.

  I moved my hands down his chest, and pulled his sweater up and off. I pulled the edge of his shirt out of his jeans, and thrilled as he shivered under my fingers when I dipped inside, my hands caressing his tight abdomen, seeking and petting the soft hair that arrowed to his nipples and tight pecs. Something shot through me too, when he shivered, and I felt so powerful, so feminine when he trembled at my touch.

  It was still not enough, but he was letting me explore, letting me set the pace. I pulled my sweater over my head and pressed my chest against him, nervous, excited, needy.

  “Claire.” He breathed into my ear, his hands under my shirt, smoothing over my ribs, rubbing under my bra. “Let me see you.”

  In answer, I arched into him. His hands unclipped my bra clasp, and in one quick flip of shirt and bra, I was bare to the waist. He leaned back and studied my face, then shifted his intense gaze to my breasts, his hands cupping them, rubbing his thumbs over my nipples. I moaned, his every stroke sending jolts into my core.

  “You’re so beautiful—your skin, your breasts.”

  “Please, Drake. I need…” But my words sank into another moan as he met my need. He kissed his way down, his warm wet lips latching onto my right breast and suckling me hard and deep, twirling his tongue, setting a rhythm that had me writhing.

  “Oh my God, that’s so…” I pulled his head into me, and he licked from one nipple to the next, suckling and tasting, until my core felt so wet he must know, must…

  He laid me back on the couch, still suckling, and I felt his hand go to the buttons on my jeans. I stilled, and he broke away from my breasts.

  “It’s all right, Claire. I just want to make you feel good. Let me show you. Let me touch you.”

  I started to sit up, but he guided me down again, his hands gentle but insistent.

  “Shhhh. It’ll be fine. Let me. I want to see you come to pieces in my arms.”

  He started suckling again, and I felt spread like a feast for his attentions. His hand slowly shucked my jeans down, and then he slid his hand under my panties, feathering his fingers through my curls, sliding one finger through my wet folds.

  “Ahh God, Claire. How you would feel wrapped around my cock. You’re so wet.” He shivered, and slid his finger down and up, down and up, his thumb circling my nub, teasing my deepest yearnings for him. My senses completely focused on his finger and his words, as he slid closer and closer to my sheath.

  “I want this, Claire. This place, just me inside you.” With those words, he slid his finger into me and I rose off the sofa. “I want to feel my cock enter you, claim you, spill my come inside and brand you. I want you mine, in every way. Inside, outside, inside, deeper…” He moved his fingers to the rhythm of his words, sliding first one finger in, then adding another, in and out. I was mesmerized, his spell building the pressure inside me, closer, closer, until like a magician, he commanded, “Come for me, Claire. Come now!” He thrust his fingers hard inside me and I seized, his lips clamped on my breast and his arms tight about me as I exploded like a firework, up and up, then slowly fell as I drifted into oblivion.

  I lay, replete and dazed, feeling my heart slow, my hand dragging back and forth slowly over the thick mound in his jeans. I felt it bob at my touch, as if it reached out for me. Drake’s eyes were closed, his expression almost tortured. I shimmied up, then pulled him to a sitting position on the sofa and kneeled before him.

  “My turn,” I whispered, and undid the top button of his jeans.

  His eyes fluttered open. “What?”

  “My turn,” I repeated, “to enjoy you.” I pulled his zipper down and felt the heat rising from the bulge under my hand.

  “Claire, you don’t have to…”

  “Oh, but I want to. I really, really want to.”

  He shook his head, then sank back, too overcome to fight me. I slid his jeans down his legs, then slid his underwear down his tight thighs. His cock sprang gloriously to life, straight and heavy and proud, the veins flooded to his purple cap. Moisture glistened on its slick top, and my hand gloried in the hot satin skin. I settled between his legs, bent and nuzzled his cock and sac, and he groaned. He smelled of male, and soap, and Drake—intoxicating.

  I licked the head, then slid my tongue down the sides of his cock and swirled my tongue around the sensitive head, tracing the faint line that lay beneath. I looked up at him. His eyes were shut, his body rigid in an agony of pleasure, but I wanted more.

  Slowly, I took him in my mouth, thrilling to his tremors. I slid up and down, my lips gripp
ing him tightly, and felt his cock grow even harder in my mouth. He groaned again, and I felt him mold his hands gently to my head, guiding my movements, urging me to take him deeper. I let my teeth gently rake him and he shivered, then I sucked him hard and heard him hiss in pleasure. Together, we increased the rhythm, my mouth sliding up and down, taking him as deep as I could go. He stilled, and I moved harder on him, faster, determined to suck his salty come right out of his cock. I felt ravenous, sexy and empowered, my body screaming for his completion. His body danced to our sensuous rhythm as I moved up and down, faster, then faster, slick glides until his body tightened and he arched with a deep groan, his cock pulsing in my mouth, his come streaming. Triumphant, I swallowed, then swallowed again, his hands tight on my head. Slowly, after I swallowed the last bit of come, his cock softened in my mouth. I licked him gently, cleaning him like a cat, kissed the tip, and finally let him slide away.

  We lay there contentedly, his hand stroking my hair, my cheek against his thigh. Finally, with a sigh, he pulled me beside him and tucked me under his chin. I felt incredible, as if a door long bolted had finally been opened. My body sang, but my spirit—my spirit had taken flight, soaring on new wings. I snuggled into him and closed my eyes, feeling his hand caress my back, my cheek against his furred chest. He had the prettiest body hair. Brown with blond tips and so soft.

  “Claire,” he whispered, still stroking me. “That was the most incredible…”

  “Shhh. It’s all right. You don’t have to say anything. You felt incredible too.” I snuggled in closer and heard his quiet “Thank you” as he kissed the top of my head.

  We dozed for a few minutes, with that half awareness that reminded us we were not completely private and could be interrupted any time. Soon, I reached over and put my clothes on, and Drake his. At least, if the girls should awaken or Sharon wander in, we would look fairly normal, even if my feelings blazed like a neon sign. I didn’t want to get up or leave him, as if what we had done tied us together with new knots. I wanted to savor it.

  “What now, Claire?” Drake asked softly from the top of my head.

  “I don’t know.” I kissed his chest. “Just enjoy, I guess.”

  “You know, earlier today, Christine…” He hesitated, then pulled my face up with his finger. He gazed at me intently, as if he memorized my face.

  “What about her?”

  “She means nothing. You know that, don’t you?”

  I felt my lips curl into a grin. “Well, I should hope so. I credit you with better taste than that.”

  He studied me, as if he didn’t quite believe me. I reached up my hand and pulled him down for another kiss. He pulled away only a few inches, still staring at me intently.

  “You’re okay? You’re sure?”

  “I’m okay.”

  And for once, in a very long time, I knew to my bones that it was true.

  Drake had to go out that night since he’d given up a whole day to be with us, so I entertained the girls, reading books, playing with Meow and Ontidi and Duplo blocks, and then gave them a long bubble bath complete with sinking ships. I suffered no jealousy at the thought of him with those women now, surprised by my pity for him. I knew he’d rather be with us. But when I went to bed, I gazed idly at the snow-bright mountains, thinking about Drake. My mind reeled in a hundred directions. One interlude did not a relationship make, and for now, I wanted to enjoy my feelings. I was finally alive again.

  The next day dawned clear and cold, and the girls were up again with the birds. They were excited and distracted, because everyone was invited to Snow King for skiing, and the girls were going to spend the afternoon at the toddler’s ski “camp”. I tried to calm them as best I could, but by the time the driver showed up, I couldn’t wait to hand them over. This would be my first free time since I had arrived, and as much as I loved the girls, I needed a break.

  Drake had left earlier for an informal meeting, so we hadn’t talked again after yesterday, but I felt calmer and happier, a voice inside me whispering “What if?” I was hopeful for the first time in years. I knew I shouldn’t keep letting my thoughts sail in his direction, but after yesterday, that seemed an impossible goal.

  Soon after lunch, we drove to the resort. The mountains were huge, much higher and steeper than anything back east, and I felt more than a little overwhelmed. I was not a big downhill skier anyway, although I’d loved sledding as a kid. The camp was part of the day care center, near the main lodge, so after I had enrolled the girls and left them squealing in delight at riding a sled train, I was at loose ends with five hours to myself.

  I thought I’d check out the main lodge first, so crunched my way over. I was halfway there when I felt a rush of cold air and heard skis scrape on snow beside me.

  “Hey, gorgeous.”

  I turned smiling, thinking to see Drake, but this was a stranger—albeit a very tall, blond, handsome one. I looked around, bewildered, sure he must be talking to someone else.

  “No, I mean you.” He chuckled, his eyes a startling blue, a smug grin on his face. “Did you think I made a mistake?”

  A trick question. If I said yes, I’d sound insecure; if I said no, I’d sound vain. Either way, he made me feel left-footed, and I didn’t appreciate the feeling. I decided I really didn’t care either way and kept walking.

  “Come on. Don’t you know a pick-up line when you hear it?” He swished beside me as I lumbered along in my Sorels. “I thought I was pretty obvious—must be losing my touch.”

  “Oh, you were obvious all right.” I kept walking, my eyes straight ahead. “I thought I was too.”

  “Ouch. A hit, a palpable hit.” He slapped his hand to his chest. I rolled my eyes and kept walking.

  “Still, when one sees such beauty, it’s worth a try. Let me buy you a drink.”

  “No, thank you.”

  “A cocoa?”

  “No, thank you.”

  “A diamond?”

  “Oh, for pity’s sake.” I stopped and turned to him. “Go. Ski.” I pointed to the highest mountain run. “Preferably up there—on the other side.”

  He loomed over me, his grin splitting his face. He really was extraordinarily handsome, Jim’s kind of handsome, the kind that made me want to run for the hills. There was something about him that seemed too practiced, too calculating—frankly, too creepy.

  “I can ski any time. It’s not every day I meet a woman as lovely as you.”

  I had finally reached the door of the lodge—and my limit—and turned to my pursuer.

  “As far as I’m concerned, you haven’t met me.”

  I shut the door in his face. The idiot was probably still grinning on the other side.

  Did lines like that really work? I guessed if you were in the market for only good looks some might go for him, but I pitied the girl who fell for that slimeball.

  I looked around me and quickly forgot about him. The room was breathtaking. A huge vaulted ceiling soared above me, with beautiful wood and stone and floor-to-ceiling windows that made the outdoors part of the interior decoration. It felt like a cathedral dedicated to the mountains. There was a huge stone fireplace, big enough for five people to stand in comfortably, and a restaurant open to the commons area. Some boutiques ranged against another wall, and skiers of all kinds milled about. I walked over to the bar area and ordered a cocoa, thinking a seat by the fire would be a great place to people watch.

  “Hi,” a deep male voice whispered in my ear.

  “Oh for the love of—” I whipped around, ready to let Mr. Ski-Slime have it, but it was Drake. My face must have registered my surprise.

  “Oh. Hi.”

  “Expecting someone else?” He raised an eyebrow and looked over his shoulder, then back at me.

  I shook my head. “No, my mistake.” I glanced over at the crowd by the fireplace, all of them fashionable and sophisticated,
oozing money and ease. “So, is this the party?”

  “Uh hunh. Would you like to join us?”

  I tried to gauge his expression. Did he really want me to or was he just being polite? Did I want to? I looked up and a man in the crowd winked at me, another slimeball on the make. I grimaced.

  “Honestly, no.”

  “Then may I join you?” His blue eyes sparkled against the frame of his black knit cap, and the slight stubble on his cheeks made my hands twitch to rub it. Somehow, I managed to keep my hands clasped around my mug.

  “Won’t you miss your chance to schmooze or whatever you business types call it?”

  “I’ve been schmoozing all week, and all this morning. I’d love a break, and they won’t miss me.” His dimple was back. I really liked that dimple. “Please? I promise you won’t have to tie my boots or wipe my nose or anything.” He turned on his lopsided grin.

  Between that grin and his dimple, how could I refuse?

  “I don’t know. It’s my first free afternoon, and I’m not sure you’re completely trained yet.” I looked him up and down as if I were debating, then crossed my arms and leaned toward him. “If I say it’s time to go, we go. Deal?”

  “Deal.” He held out his hand, palm up, then grinned at me. “We don’t have to spit in our palms before we shake, do we?” He started to spit.

  “Eww. Stop that.” I smacked him on the shoulder. “See. You’re already misbehaving.”

  He waggled his eyebrows. “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.” He nodded toward the window, where the mountain loomed. “So were you going to ski?”

  “That thing?” I shivered. “No way. I can barely handle the baby slope at the Homestead and most of that on my butt. I’m not that crazy.”

  “What about cross country? Would you like that?”

  “Do they have trails for that too?”

  He nodded.

  “And I don’t have to go up or come down that monster?”