“Better.”
“Well, the mountains are a pretty spectacular backdrop, though even better in the spring when things get green again.”
“It was a gorgeous drive, but that’s not what made it better.”
She cocked her head. “So…’splain it to me already.”
He scooped her up against his chest, wrapping his arms around her to keep her feet dangling a foot off the ground. He spun them both around, making her squeal, and him laugh. Then he parked her backside on the counter and slid her hands around his neck as he moved between her thighs.
He braced his hands on the counter on either side of her hips. “We need to talk.”
Surprised by the unusually ominous statement, her fingertips, which had been toying with the shaggy hair at the nape of his neck, stilled. “About?”
“So many things.” He tipped his head back as if trying to corral all of his thoughts, and when he looked at her again, his expression was serious…but that banked excitement was still alive in his eyes. It couldn’t be horrible if he was excited about it, could it? Unless he was excited about some opportunity to go back and play poker in Vegas again.
She tensed, despite trying to remain casual. She’d known, after all, that this part was coming. She’d just thought she had a little more time, that was all. But if he was already thinking about the next thing on the horizon, she could hardly blame him for being excited about it. She might wish he shared that enthusiasm with someone else. Anyone else, quite frankly. But given all he’d done for her, she could hardly refuse to be there for him when he so obviously wanted to share his big news.
That also explained the long, spontaneous bike ride. He probably needed to figure out how he was going to break his news to her.
“And?”
He leaned in and kissed the side of her temple. Then he kept his face next to hers, pressing his cheek against the side of her head. “And my very oldest and closest friend, Dan, flew in and surprised me this afternoon. So I invited him over to dinner. I hope you don’t mind.”
“No, I don’t mind.” She thought she might scream from the tension building inside of her. Did he not have any clue how badly he was torturing her at that moment? “Is that what it was you wanted to tell me? Something about Dan?”
“I want you to meet him, but no, there’s other stuff I want to talk about. I had thought a bottle of wine, some Marsala, some conversation. But then Dan was there, so now…”
“Dinner, and company.”
“Right.”
“Are you going back to the hotel with him afterward?”
He shook his head. “I was planning to stay here.”
She didn’t even try to ignore the hot little thrill that sent shivers down her spine. “Should I get another room ready for your friend?”
“I gave him my suite. He’ll enjoy it.” He lifted his hands to her face, pushed her hair back, and then framed her cheeks with his palms. “Not that I was trying to keep a paying guest from being under your roof…but I kind of selfishly wanted you all to myself for tonight.”
“As it happens, I’m feeling a bit selfish myself.” She smiled as he leaned in to kiss her again; then she swatted him across the chest as soon as he straightened.
“What was that for?”
“Taunting me with this big talk you want to have, then telling me I have to wait. Like my patience hasn’t been tested enough over the past two weeks.” As soon as that last part left her mouth she could have kicked herself. There was living in the moment, and there was being clingy and needy. And she was both, no doubt about it, but no need to broadcast it.
But then his eyes lit with that mischievous twinkle and she found she didn’t mind so much when he tugged her hips forward so he could snug himself more tightly between her thighs. “How impatient are you feeling, say, right about now?”
What the hell, she thought. And she grinned right back at him. “How long does it take to make chicken Marsala again?”
“You know, Dan is a bachelor…I’m thinking cream of mushroom soup chicken could be just as popular a menu item this evening.”
“Do you?”
He scooped her up off the counter and wrapped her legs around his waist as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Indeed, I do.”
He didn’t ask his bedroom or hers…but took her up the backstairs to his bed. For which she was privately grateful. Not only because it took her farther away from the phone and her office, but she kind of liked being in his space, in his bed. So to speak.
He followed her down onto the bed, onto her, and she reveled in his weight on top of her. There was that thrill of all their body parts lining up so deliciously right, but even more, there was just a sense of…reassurance? Comfort? It was more complicated than that, but also as simple as that. She’d missed him, too. But rather than say it, she tugged his head down to hers and showed him.
He had his hands buried in her hair a moment later, returning her kiss with every bit the same intensity and enthusiasm. Oh, the wonders of being wanted like he wanted her. She didn’t think she’d ever get to a point where his attention didn’t move her like that. So focused…and so fun.
He was smiling as he lifted his head, and she couldn’t help but smile back at him. “What?” she queried when he simply continued to stare into her eyes.
“I used to think I was one very lucky son of a bitch. And I was. For a very long time.”
“I think that’s great. That kind of success has to feel incredibly rewarding.”
“It does. Or did. But you know what?”
She shook her head but found herself too busy tracing the laugh lines creasing the corners of his mouth with her fingertip to respond verbally. It was far too easy to get caught up in him. And she was so very, very caught.
He traced his own fingertips down the side of her face, and his expression took on a whole new light she’d never seen before. Her fingers paused as she got caught up in looking back.
“What?” she finally said, the word barely more than a whisper.
“My ridiculous good luck is holding,” he said, caressing her bottom lip with one fingertip, then replacing it with his own lips. Only this time the kiss was slower, softer, deeper. Almost…reverent. He took his time, claiming her in a way…well, that felt like it was all about being claimed.
“Brett,” she said as his lips left hers, slowly, so they continued to touch, even as their breaths comingled.
“I am the luckiest son of a bitch on the planet,” he said, sounding almost a little stunned. Then he took her mouth again, only this time there was heat, and passion, and absolute intent.
And if she’d felt soulfully claimed a moment ago…she was feeling absolutely primally claimed now. She didn’t know what it meant, or what he was thinking. Did he mean the great sex? It was pretty damn incredible. Or was there some deeper meaning. It felt a lot…deeper.
But that was as analytical as her poor, hormone-besieged brain could be. The rest of her was far too intent on doing some claiming of its own to be worrying about things like motivation and meaning.
The only thing she was motivated to do in that moment was to get them both out of their clothes and get him as deep inside of her as possible. He was like some kind of narcotic. Every time she got a little, she wanted more. And it took more to get her that fix she needed, craved. He was insatiable with her, which was heady, heady stuff…and she was equally voracious in return.
Clothes were peeled off, pillows shoved aside as he pushed her farther across the bed and moved between her legs. There was no talking, no laughter. This was hot, hard, so fierce she thought she might pass out from the intensity of it. And then he was burying himself hard inside of her and her guttural growl of satisfaction vibrated against the slick skin on the side of his neck, where she was nibbling, biting, licking.
He pinned her hands down beside her head and moved faster. She dug the heels of her feet into the backs of his thighs, urging him on, rising to meet him, reveling in the hoarse groans coming from somewhere deep inside
