Holiday Bound (7 page)

“Do you want to come?” he rumbled behind her, still stroking her to electrical effect.

“That’d be the idea, yeah.”

His low laughter made a shiver ripple up her spine.

He set her hips back down on the pillows, and then reached beneath her, doubling one of the cushions. Her bottom rose even further in the air. They both groaned as he thrust into her, deeper this time. But then he lifted his hips until he speared her with only the tip of his cock. He supported his upper body on one hand and swatted her ass.

“Oooh,” she cried out helplessly when he reached beneath her and massaged her clit. She was so wet, his thick fingers slid over her with a friction-free glide, making her burn.

She writhed in agonized pleasure, but he withdrew and spanked her several times. She went still, gasping like she’d just run a sprint.

“I can’t wait to tie you down,” he said gruffly. “You’re always a trial, but when you wiggle that ass around, you’re really asking for it.”

He swatted her again, making the air ring with the smack of skin against skin. She felt his cock lurch inside her pussy. She moaned in desperate frustration and her vagina tightened around him…tempting him…begging him without words. If she wasn’t entirely overcome, she would have wondered at her raw lust.

But as things stood, she existed for only one thing at that moment—to have Alex take her completely.

She wiggled her bottom in a
come and get me
gesture, causing his embedded cock to wag in the air.

He popped her bottom again with his palm and dropped his other hand to the floor next to her head.

“Oh, you’re gonna get it now, beautiful.”

Her heart leapt with a wild anticipation. He thrust hard, slapping her ass with his pelvis. Angeline opened her lips and keened as he began to fuck her with long, powerful strokes.

“God, you’re on fire,” she heard him rasp, making her inner flames leap even higher. He plunged into her to the balls and paused while he pushed her long hair aside. His hand spread over her skull, urging her to turn her head so he could see her in profile. His low, feral growl caused shivers of excitement to race down her spine. He moved his hands, placing them over hers, fixing her firmly to the floor. Despite the volatility of the movement, his restraint on her was gentle.

She closed her eyes and wailed when he moved, plunging into her fast and furiously. Maybe the combined emotional and physical pressure was too intense, because she lost herself in those crazed, carnal moments of their frantic mating. The friction he built in her was unbearable. She bobbed her ass in a counter rhythm to his driving cock, feeling herself cresting and striving for the delicious jolt of orgasm with blind need. He moved his hands suddenly, placing them next to her shoulders. He reared up over her, coming up on his toes.

Angeline opened her mouth and screamed in pleasure while he fucked her with savage abandon.

She felt his cock jerk inside her. He roared in climax. The sound of his rough, deep cry and his spasming penis deep inside her triggered her own release. She cried out sharply as pleasure blasted through her.

He continued to fuck her while they both came. Shivers of bliss still rippled through her flesh after he’d slowed. He lowered his hands and came down over her, his warm breath striking her cheek in uneven bursts.

“You’re not my father’s. You’re mine, Angeline.”

She lay there gasping, turned inside out…undone by the force of nature called Alex Carradine.

“I need to use the bathroom,” she whispered.

He shifted his hips, cursing softly under his breath at the sensation of leaving the warm, soft haven of Angeline’s body. He rolled off her with equal reluctance.

It seemed that the separation heralded the cold return of doubt.

“Put on my shirt,” he said as he watched her stand, struck anew by her feminine beauty. Something about the lush curve of her hips and buttocks contrasting with her narrow waist made him want to possess her all over again.

Her averted face as she slipped his shirt over her shoulders made him wonder if his previous possession was a one-time event.

When she returned several minutes later, he couldn’t read her expression in the shadowed room. She hesitated several feet away from where he lay when she saw he’d zipped their two sleeping bags together into one large bag. He saw her elegant throat convulse as she swallowed.

He perfectly understood her wariness, but he said nothing, curious as to what she would say or do. Fucking each other like animals in the heat of the moment was one thing.

Sleeping in each other’s arms was another.

She nodded at the sleeping bags. “Alex…do you really think it’s wise to—?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” At the sight of the anxiety on her face, he sighed and relented. “I’m not going to attack you again, Angeline. Not now, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

She stepped toward him hastily. “It’s not that. I don’t think you attacked me, I just—” Her voice broke. She inhaled and stared at the fire. He’d added a log and some kindling while she was in the bathroom and the flames leapt high.

“I don’t know what to think,” she finished quietly.

He tossed back the corner of the sleeping bag and nodded pointedly at the opening. “I’m not so sure what to think, either. Come on. We’ll sleep on it and get around to worrying about it come morning.”

For a taut moment she stood poised, reminding him of a deer in the second before it leapt into flight. But then she was kneeling on the carpet and sliding her feet down next to his. He pressed her back against the front of him. A shiver coursed through her when he wrapped her in his arms, settling her head on his chest. She’d become chilled on her trip to the bathroom. He rubbed her shoulder and upper arm slowly as he stared into the flames and her scent filled his nose. He sensed that her eyes were open as well, watching the fire…her mind undoubtedly churning with growing anxiety.

She’d fucked her boyfriend’s son in the dead of night and, given all the available data, she’d loved it.

Alex knew he had. Making love to Angeline was the easy part.

Now he was faced with the daunting task of convincing this amazing woman she was involved with the wrong Carradine.

Angeline drowsily inhaled the smell of coffee and burning cedar logs. In the distance, she heard the low howl of a winter wind, but the ominous sound only seemed to increase her languor.

That bitter wind couldn’t touch her. Not here.

She shifted in her cocoon, hesitant to open her eyes, wanting nothing more than to enjoy this sleepy, delicious warmth. A hazy memory told her she’d been very cold recently, making her exponentially appreciate the warmth.

She’d also been very, very hot—

Her eyelids popped open. She lay unmoving, staring onto patio doors that led onto a gray and white world. Snow fell heavily outside the doors, nearly shutting out the light of day.

She was in Alex Carradine’s house. She’d had sex with Mitchell’s son last night.

And it had been spectacular.

Panic trickled into her awareness. The memories of their heated, nighttime encounter played across her mind in graphic detail. Much to her horror, her pussy clenched in renewed desire.

Please God—say it didn’t really happen
.
Maybe it was just the mother of all wet dreams?

She threw back the sleeping bag and sat up. She was alone, but Alex’s lingering spicy scent informed her that her panic wasn’t created from a super-vivid dream. No…she really
had
fucked Alex as if her life depended on it last night. She really had become a creature she hardly recognized as herself, really
had
become transformed by raw lust.

The memory of their flame-gilded sexual encounter strangely seemed both hyper-realistic and dream-like at once. She recalled every touch, every uttered word, every nuance of ecstasy on Alex’s bold, handsome face as he drove into her body, and yet—it was as if it had happened to someone else, and she—Angeline—had watched in fascinated amazement.

She’d never known herself to be consumed by pure desire, so she couldn’t quite recognize this new facet of her personality. She recalled how she’d stared at her reflection in Alex’s bathroom mirror last night, both curious and horrified by the stranger she saw looking back at her.

What the hell was she going to tell Mitchell?

Hadn’t Alex implied that Mitchell had invited her up to his ski resort, knowing full well it would irritate Alex?

What if Alex had been intent on making love to her in order to dig at his father in return? What if they considered her nothing more than a pawn to be used in their family battle?

Panic twisted in her belly.

A thumping noise just outside the patio doors made her jump in alarm. Two large, dark forms emerged from the curtain of swirling snow. Angeline scurried out of the sleeping bags, alarmed at the idea of Alex seeing her wearing only his flannel shirt—which was stupid, of course, since he’d seen her in far less last night.

She glanced around the floor, desperately searching for her discarded clothing. By the time she located the garments draped over the back of the couch—Alex must have laid them there this morning—Angeline realized Alex wasn’t going to enter the patio doors, however. He must have just passed outside the doors on the way to wherever else he was going.

What could he be thinking, wandering around out there in a blizzard? Angeline thought as she hauled on her panties and jeans.

She hesitated before she unbuttoned the flannel shirt. Alex’s scent clung to the material. She experienced a nearly overwhelming desire to bury her face in the lapel.

From the direction of the garage, she heard a door bang open and noises like something being dragged across the concrete floor. Was he scraping the snow and ice off his boots? She frantically finished unbuttoning the shirt and hurried into her bra and sweater. She was making her way toward the kitchen, her heart seemingly lodged somewhere near her tonsils, when the back door opened, and Alex entered.

Angeline paused next to the lunch counter, her arms wrapped around herself in a defensive posture. He’d removed his coat, hat and boots already and wore a dark blue flannel shirt and jeans. She recognized her black duffel bag hanging on his shoulder. He set it down and ran his fingers through his short, dark hair, still unaware of her observance.

“Good morning,” Angeline croaked through a dry throat when he glanced up and saw her standing there. His gaze dropped slowly over her body. His dark brows knitted together as if in puzzlement—or irritation, she couldn’t tell which.

“Good morning,” he said eventually as he came farther into the kitchen. “Did you just get up?”

Angeline’s cheeks heated when she met his direct, blue-eyed gaze. Why did his stare always make her feel so naked? She nodded.

“Do you want a cup of coffee?” he asked.

Again, she nodded, temporarily unable to speak.

He opened up a cupboard and withdrew two mugs. “I got your stuff from your SUV.”

“I see that. Thank you. You really shouldn’t have gone out in the storm. You might have gotten lost.”

He stood at the stove, pouring coffee into the cups. His only response to her statement was to shrug his broad shoulders. He glanced up at her face as he handed her the mug. Some ice crystals clung to his dark goatee. She resisted an urge to feel them melting beneath her stroking finger.

She reached for the coffee instead.

“You’d better come and get warm by the fire,” she muttered, averting her gaze.

She followed him into the living room. They needed to talk about this in the rational light of day. What had happened last night had been wild—aberrant. Words would help to contain the power of their potent tryst. An honest discussion—
it was a crazy mistake. Let’s just forget it ever happened
—would put everything neatly into perspective.

Angeline opened her mouth to begin this difficult, but necessary containment. Unfortunately, her gaze fell on the mussed sleeping bags. The memory of falling asleep with Alex’s arms surrounding her swamped her brain.

“Angeline?”

She blinked, realizing Alex stood with one hand upon the mantel, watching her as she gaped at the cozy nest where they’d shared each other’s body heat all night. She looked at him, her mouth still hanging open.

“Merry Christmas.”

His simple greeting took her so off guard he might as well have proclaimed that it was snowing roses.

“I… Merry Christmas. I’d forgotten about it…with everything.”

His gaze dropped to her shaking hand. He stepped forward and took the trembling coffee cup, setting it on the mantel next to his. He turned, grabbing her still-outstretched hand. When he started to draw her into his arms, Angeline flinched and took several steps back. His expression went rigid, but she forced herself to meet his fierce stare.

“Alex, it was a mistake. Surely you must see that.”

That obstinate, insolent look she’d become all too familiar with yesterday settled on his features. “I see no such thing.”

He picked up his cup and took a sip of coffee.

“How can you say that?” she demanded. “We don’t even know each other!”

“I thought we made a pretty good start last night. Nothing to stop us from continuing to get acquainted if you want to find out more about me, though,” he drawled. Angeline saw the small smirk that gorgeous mouth highlighted to perfection with that dark goatee and knew he was trying to provoke her. The realization stiffened her spine with anger.

“I hardly think adding to the crime is going to make things better.”

She tensed when his small smile faded and his eyes turned to blue chips of ice. “I think you’d better go clean up in the bathroom, Angeline.”

“What? Why?”

“Because it’s the only other room in the house that’s reasonably warm. I put the heater in there earlier.”

“I don’t understand how that relates to—”

“It
relates
because if you make one more stupid comment about last night being a crime, your ass is going to end up under my palm. Like I said, best you go into another room at the moment.”

“Alex, threatening me when we need to discuss this is hardly help—”

She stopped in the middle of her protest when she saw the hard gleam that entered his eyes. Heat surged into her face and pussy, causing her to replay in her mind what he’d just said. Her own body seemed to be able to interpret that look in his eyes better than her brain could. Alex was irritated at her, but the idea of spanking her had aroused him, as well.

Just like it had her, on some deep, primal level, apparently.

He took a step toward her and Angeline took a step back.

“It wasn’t an idle threat. Better go,” he said quietly, his tone carrying a hint of warning.

She spun around and retreated. She refused even to look at him—although she felt his stare on her—as she retrieved her bag and stalked down the frigid hallway toward the bathroom.

Alex regretted his bitter response to Angeline’s words, but not enough to apologize when she re-entered the living room over an hour later. He’d begun to wonder what the hell she was doing in that bathroom, seeing as he’d heard the shower running for all of three minutes. He already knew from firsthand experience that one didn’t tend to want to linger in an ice-cold shower, and it’s not like there was any electricity for blow-dryers or curling irons. But the bathroom door had remained closed for the next hour, not a sound emanating from the interior.

When she walked into the living room, he shifted the book he’d been reading with varying degrees of success as he alternated between focusing on the printed page and possible sounds coming from the end of the hallway.

Without sparing him so much as a glance, Angeline set the kerosene heater she’d been carrying in the middle of the space in front of the sofa and before the fire. Her actions struck him as aggressive, somehow. She seemed to be trying to tell him something, given the stubborn tilt of her chin.

He strongly suspected that
something
was that the space in front of the fire was reserved for the heater,
not
for mind-blowing sex.

She wore her hair down around her shoulders. Some of the tendrils in the back were still damp with moisture. She’d donned a pair of jeans and a red cotton sweater that clung enticingly to her generous breasts.