In From the Cold (9 page)

“Yeah. You?” He moved between my thighs.

“Yeah. On the pill.”

“Thank God!”

Almost frantic, he grabbed my legs and pulled me to the edge. He arrowed his cock at my entrance, rubbed himself through my essence, and plunged.

He felt incredible. So good. So damn good. His cock roared through my passage, filling me, completing me. My hands grasped his biceps, breast to chest, his gorgeous muscular thighs pumping into me, my legs wrapped around his hips. He plunged and plunged, riding me, rhythmic and powerful, building our heat, and I felt my core rising, a volcano of need, of pending eruption. And suddenly I was there, whimpering, moaning, flying high, higher, higher. I felt him start to stiffen, my muscles clenched around him—and then his whole body tensed. His cock and balls tightened and he strained into me, groaning, a long sound of pure pleasure, and then we slowly, slowly, soft as snowflakes, soft as down, sank back to earth together.

I felt drugged. Our mingled scents swirled around us, of arousal, sweat and evergreens, and I felt blissful—secure and wanted. He leaned against me, his arms draped around me, his forehead propped on mine. I rubbed my hands up and down his back, soothing his now-relaxed body, warming and admiring his butt muscles.

“You have a fine ass, Mr. Driscoll. Have I told you that?” I murmured playfully into his neck, nibbling on his ear. He leaned back and cupped my face in his hands, then kissed me, a feather-light brush of the lips.

“No, but I’m glad you like it. I’m rather fond of yours too. And all your other bits.” He leaned down and kissed my nipple, then pulled me to his chest, cradling my head against his shoulder, and sighed. “God, Claire, you’re unbelievable. Perfect.”

There was such awe and wonder in his voice, that for a moment, I almost believed him. Almost. His eyes studied me intently. I knew he was wondering if I would retreat again, withdraw from what we’d shared. I prodded myself with a mental finger, probing for doubts or guilt, and I was relieved to find none. I was glad—thrilled in fact—that I’d done it. A victory.

“That was my first time since Jim,” I murmured. He held my face in his hands and smiled at me, proud of me too, then pulled me back into a tight hug.

I sighed and held him close, reveling in his warmth. Maybe I could be strong again, even whole. It felt right, as if all the shit in my life had been leading me here, to this good place, this good man, this good moment.

I never wanted to leave.

But leave we must. Slowly, we pulled ourselves together. We cleaned up in the bathroom, dressed and drank our tea, only to realize we would have to push hard to collect the girls on time. We headed back, slipping through the snow, lapping up the miles. We were laughing, silly, almost giddy. He was so beautiful and I was so happy, maybe even falling in love, and for the moment, the thought didn’t terrify me.

We slid up to the lodge just a few minutes before five, darkness already descending, and I hurried to the toddler camp, leaving Drake, with a kiss, to return our equipment. The girls were waiting, eager to tell me about their day, with rosy cheeks and tired eyes. I had already helped Yvette into her parka and was snapping Suzie into hers when I felt Yvette suddenly still, staring at someone behind me.

“Daddy?”

“Hiya, gorgeous! What are you doing here?”

Daddy? Gorgeous?

I whipped around, and there was Mr. Ski-Slime, his arms stretched open to Yvette, and Drake framed in the doorway right behind him, a sick expression on his face.

Chapter Ten

Drake

Miles.

I tried to keep my face impassive and calm, but inwardly, I roiled with cold fury.

What the hell was he doing here?

I walked up to Claire and Suzie. Claire looked concerned, Suzie puzzled.

“Drake!” Miles lifted Yvette into a hug, then let her slip to the floor. She moved between Claire and me and slid her tiny hand into mine. I squeezed it gently. I had no idea how she felt about her father, and even now, she gave nothing away. She’d been surprised and she hadn’t resisted his hug, but she hadn’t smiled either. She was holding my hand tightly though, and if my daughter had preferred to hold hands with another man rather than her own father—well, it wouldn’t have happened. I squeezed her hand again and felt a tiny squeeze back. I pulled her closer, my protective instincts roaring.

“Miles,” I said flatly. Suzie took my other hand, peering back and forth between Miles and me.

Miles glanced at Claire, then at me, ignoring Yvette. “Here for the Fritzes’ shindig, I see.”

“Yes.” My tone was terse, dismissive. “What brings you here?”

“My other plans fell through, so I thought, ‘Why not?’ Lots of my favorite people are here.” He winked at Yvette, then leered at Claire. “And it’s Christmas.”

He seemed to notice Suzie for the first time and squatted in front of her. “Who is this little pumpkin seed?”

“Suzie.”

“Suzie? No way. Wow! You’ve really grown. You were only yaay big the last time I saw you.” He held his hands a few inches apart. “You’re a big girl now, hunh?”

She didn’t say anything, just looked at me to see how she should react. I squeezed her hand too. She could tell something was up.

“Yes, she’s grown. And they’ve had a big day. We should be going.” I started to turn away, but Miles didn’t take the hint.

“So why is Yvette with you and Suzie and…” He turned to Claire, obviously fishing. “Miss…?”

“Miss Stranger,” Suzie volunteered. No one corrected her.

“Miss Stranger.” Miles smiled his “gotcha smile” at Claire, and my cold fury burst into flames. I’d grown up with that smile, had watched Miles seduce and burn dozens of girls, wreaking havoc. Not this time.

“Back off, Miles.”

He looked from me to Claire and back again, then shrugged, putting his palms up in surrender.

“Hey, I’m just makin’ nice.” He cocked his head. “And Yvette’s with you because…?”

“I’m the nanny,” Claire said.

“Ohhhh, the nanny,” he chuckled. “I get it.” He rubbed his jaw. “Wow. Lucky Yvette. Lucky Drake.” His smile was knowing, smarmy, and I wanted to smash my fist in it. I took another step forward, but Claire put her hand on my arm. She gave her head a tiny shake, then slanted her eyes at the girls.
Not here
, she signaled,
not now
.

“I think our ride’s here, Drake. Yvette, say goodbye to your daddy.” Claire took Suzie’s hand and held her other out for Yvette, who was still clinging hard to my hand. I passed her to Claire, sharing a glance at our hands. She understood that I wanted them gone.

“Bye, Daddy,” Yvette whispered, barely audible.

“Bye, darlin’.” Miles smiled, but he barely looked at her, oblivious to her tension. I seethed with anger. This was his daughter, damn it. To think I once thought he was utterly cool. What a stupid ass I was.

I turned to Claire. “Take the girls to the car. I’ll be right behind you.”

She read my face, nodded, then turned to Miles, radiating dislike. Did she have a sixth sense about him already? Did she know him? Whatever the cause, her instincts were dead on.

“Goodbye, Mr. Lofton,” she said.

“Miles.” He flashed his mega-watt grin.

I watched for a reaction, but she said nothing, her face blank as she hurried the girls into the waiting SUV. Miles started to turn toward me, barely listening, his eyes bird-dogging Claire’s ass as she bent over the girls in the backseat.

“Well, it’s great to see you, Drake. Maybe we could—”

I grabbed him by the jacket front, pulled him around the corner of the building and then yanked him to my face. “Maybe nothing.”

His eyes narrowed and his body stiffened. I had his attention now.

“Get this straight, Miles. I don’t want to see you. Claire and the girls don’t want to see you. We want nothing to do with you.”

“Claire, hunh?” The idiot grinned and glanced at the car again.

Damn, I’d let her name slip.

“Are you hearing me, Miles? Leave her—and us—alone. I mean it. She’s been through enough—and so have I.”

A cloud passed over his eyes, but in typical Miles fashion, it cleared quickly.

“Doesn’t she get a say?”

“No.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

“So you and she…?”

“That’s none of your business.”

He suddenly jerked away and I let him go. He stretched his neck, resettled his clothes and his pride, then glared at me.

“I could make it my business.”

I took a step toward him; he was only inches away. “You could try.”

My growl should have warned away a bull moose, but not Miles. I knew Miles, how he worked, and Claire was now the best challenge ever. And he thought he knew me, knew how little I had fought him in the past.

But he didn’t know me now.

I breathed deeply, willing myself to calm down. We had a more pressing issue after all.

“We do have other business. Sharon.”

“Sharon? What about her?” His eyes had drifted to the car, but he trained them back on me. He seemed puzzled by the change of subject.

“Do you know how much she’s drinking?”

He shrugged. “She always drinks a lot. Besides, we’re divorced. Why should I care?”

“Yvette, you dumbass. And Sharon’s drinking is worse. It’s out of control.”

He looked mildly uncomfortable, but then shrugged again. “I don’t see what I can do about it. Sharon’s her own woman now.”

“Get her some help. Keep Yvette away from her until she’s sober.”

“She has a nanny.”

“A nanny who packed summer clothes for a Wyoming winter? Do you even know who’s taking care of your daughter?”

He shrugged again. “I can’t check on everything.”

I was damned tired of his shrugs and his carelessness. I was damned tired of him.

Close to exploding, I needed to walk away, but for Yvette, I gave it one more try.

“We were friends once, Miles. You’re Yvette’s father, and whether you’re man enough to acknowledge it, you
are
responsible for her, terrifying as that thought must be. For once in your life, think about someone else. You did a number on Sharon, on all of us. You owe her—and Yvette.”

He said nothing. I turned and joined the others in the car. He stood there, frowning, as we drove away.

In the car, I sat with the girls snuggled on each side of me. Yvette never said a word while Suzie nattered on about their day, and by the time we reached the guesthouse, they were both fast asleep.

Claire had watched us from the opposite seat, silent, introspective. I wanted to know what she was thinking, but she didn’t seem to want to talk. And the silence made me uneasy.

“Did you know him?” I blurted finally, wincing at my accusatory tone. I had to know what was between them.

Claire looked at me and shook her head. “No, I don’t. But he spoke to me earlier today, before I met you at the bar.”

She must have noticed my tense reaction, because she smiled softly and touched my knee. “I shut him down, Drake.”

“Good,” I choked out, more harshly than I meant to, my rage threatening to erupt again. “Stay away from him. He’s bad news.”

“I know.” She turned and gazed out the window, a pensive look in her eyes. “Believe me, I can tell.”

I wanted desperately to reach across the space and drag her onto my lap, to enfold her and keep her safe, from all the Jims and Mileses of the world. After our afternoon together, the last memory I wanted intruding was her past with Jim or my past with Miles and Wanda. I wanted her focused on us, on me, on what we could be. The car started to slow; we were almost home. I leaned forward and touched her hand, twining my fingers gently with hers, squeezing them lightly.

“It’ll be okay,” I whispered. “I’m here.”

She smiled. “
We’re
here, you mean.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. Claire was still with me, and she hadn’t retreated back into her shell. The car pulled up in front of the guesthouse, and Claire and I stepped out. I scooped Yvette into my arms and handed her to Claire, then turned back and picked up Suzie.

I changed the subject. “Wearing them out seems to do the trick.” I hefted Suzie higher on my shoulder, feeling a little ache in my back from the skiing earlier. “I can’t remember, before this week, when Suzie’s been asleep before seven p.m.—and certainly not several days in a row.”

“The cold, the altitude, a constant playmate—maybe you should adopt Yvette and move to Wyoming.” Claire smiled, hoisting Yvette tighter in her arms, and a vision of doing this often—Claire and me and the girls—shimmered enticingly in my mind. We carried the girls up the stairs, took off coats and boots, then tucked them into their beds, clothes and all. When she shut the door, I pulled Claire close, slipping my arms around her. She leaned into me, and finally, I relaxed. Other than seeing Miles, I’d had a wonderful day.

Maybe everything was okay after all.

Maybe even more than okay.

“A constant playmate, hunh? For her or for me?”

“Why not both? Seems to me you both need more playtime.” She looked up at me through her lashes, flirtatious, and I grinned. She slipped her hands around my neck, her fingers fiddling with my hair, and I felt my groin tighten. I pulled her closer so she could feel it too.

I kissed her, sipping at the corners of her mouth, nibbling at her upper lip, then her lower, then dipping down the trailing edge of her jaw, burying my face in her neck. I wanted to mark her, claim her like a teenage boy. She smelled amazing and I breathed her in, drunk with her scent, and reeled. Maybe seeing Miles
had
rattled me, because I suddenly needed her in the worst way.

“Is it playtime now?” I whispered, and maneuvered her against the wall, her breasts pressed against me, my teeth nipping her earlobe.

She rolled her head away from me and put her hands on my chest, smiling. Then she reached up and playfully tapped my cheek with one finger.

“Not ’til we’ve eaten. I’m starved.”

“How can you think about food at a time like this?” I demanded.

Her stomach growled, and she arched an eyebrow at me.

“All right, all right. But let’s find something quick.” I grabbed her hand and pulled her into the kitchen.

We ate breakfast for dinner—scrambled eggs with salsa, cheese and sour cream, toast and sausage. There was no sign of Sharon, and while it bothered me for Yvette’s sake, I was pleased for my own. I wanted Claire all to myself, with no more drama, no more people from our pasts blindsiding us. This afternoon in the cabin had been amazing. The world had rocked under my feet, tilted my perceptions—Claire now my lodestone, the only thing keeping me balanced. I’d been dreaming of her in my bed, her body under mine, or on top, or beside—the list was endless. Tonight, I hoped to make more of those dreams real.

“Are you full yet?” I asked. We sat at the bar, and I was kissing her fingers, sucking the ends. “Hmmm…just a hint of cilantro.” I sucked another finger deeper into my mouth. Her eyes grew wide, holding her breath.

“Don’t you want dessert?”

“Absolutely. Positively. Right now.” I grabbed her hand and pulled her down the hall.

“What about the dishes?” She yelped, giggling, and tried to squirm back, but I picked her up and threw her over my shoulder.

“What dishes? Where? I don’t see any dishes.” I kicked my bedroom door shut behind me, then threw her on my bed.

Claire lay back in the middle of the pillows, dwarfed by the huge mattress. I crawled over the cover beside her and tucked her under my shoulder. I sighed. This was where I’d wanted her for days, and now she was here. In my bed. Mine.

The wall-sized window in front of us was backlit from floodlights in the yard, and we watched the snow fall thickly. It was beautiful, peaceful, enchanting. And so was she.

I turned to look at her, and let my fingers trail down the side of her face, drinking her in. My fingers brushed down her neck, trickled across her sleek collarbone. I unbuttoned her blouse, slowly, one button at a time, letting my lips follow. I slid her out of her top, then rolled her over on top of me, kissing her deeply, my tongue exploring her mouth, a garden of sensation. She was fruit and honey, nectar and champagne, and I could not get enough, but unlike this afternoon, I wanted to savor her. Slowly.

I released her bra, sliding the straps over her shoulders, releasing her lovely mounds. I held her up and she arched her back, giving me better access to her rose-colored nipples. I kissed down their sides, cradled their pendulous weight, then suckled one deep into my mouth. I heard her gasp, then moan, her body clenching with desire. My cock was on fire, rubbing against my pants with a mind of its own, but I wanted to prolong this. If I let the beast out, we would be done—and this was too sweet to be over so soon.

I kneaded and kissed her gorgeous breasts, buried my face between them and licked her delicious salty/sweet skin. I rolled her on her back, and slid my hand down her satin-smooth stomach. Just as I had reached the edge of her curls, she stopped my hand.

“My turn,” she said.

She reached for the edge of my shirt and slowly pulled it up, brushing her lips up my torso, sucking, nibbling, darting her tongue against my skin. My hands tightened into fists as I willed myself not to grab her and take her now. She pulled my shirt off and then retreated, kissing her way back down my face, my chest, then taking my nipples in her mouth and sucking. She set my skin on fire.

She moved to my waistband, trailing her fingers through the hair on my abdomen. I ached for her touch, every muscle straining with need. Her fingers were light, delicate, rippling my skin with exquisite torment. She delved beneath the band, unsnapping the top, unzipping my pants. My cock leapt, my relief intense. And then she touched it.