Winter Kisses (6 page)

T
he moment he was inside her his body relaxed, a sigh washing over him that confused as well as pleased. This was a new feeling, a new woman. Sensations Alex had never experienced moved through him even as he started to move with long, torturously slow strokes. She moved with him, her hands still pressing against his buttocks, both legs now lifted and riding along his hips.

He buried his face in her neck, inhaled the sweet erotic scent of her skin. The scent would stay with him forever, he knew. Just like the feel of her gripping him so tightly, the sound of her whispering her pleasure. This moment, this night, would be emblazoned in his memory and he would enjoy it immensely.

Nails raked along the skin of his bottom, upward to his lower back as her thrusts became more persistent.

“Please, more! More!” she whispered, her voice husky with desire.

Alex picked up the pace, always aiming to please. He lifted her legs until both ankles rested on his shoulders and thrust deeper, faster. He watched her, saw the exotic slanting of her eyes, the sway of her long tendrils of hair over the pillow, the tip of her tongue as it stroked her bottom lip just before she bit into it. She was an erotic beauty, desire and passion casting a glorious haze over her light skin.

He pushed the material of her nightgown up until plump, medium-size breasts were revealed, darkened nipples tight with arousal. Using this fingers, he tweaked each nipple, watching as her eyes darkened and her mouth opened wider to suck in more air. Inside she was so wet, so inviting that Alex almost lost his control. Every muscle in her body tightened as she moaned with her release. Alex thrust harder, searching for his own pleasure but didn't reach it until she yelled once more.

“Alex!”

His name was like a litany or a permission slip for him to let go finally. With a tensing of his spine, he groaned as it seemed everything he had inside was transferred to her. In a shameful display, he lay on top of her, breathing heavily and trying to find the ground on which he'd once stood, before he'd seen her in the kitchen, before he'd climbed into this bed with her, before she'd turned and wrapped her arms around him.

 

Monica was awake.

As much as she'd like to pretend otherwise, there was no denying it. She was coherent and Alex Ben
nett, with his gloriously naked body, was lying on top of her—a certain part of him still comingling with a certain part of her.

She wanted to scream with embarrassment. The woman who'd declared she would not have sex with a man she hardly knew.

Then she wanted to sigh with contentment. The woman who hadn't had sex in so long she feared she'd forgotten how.

In the end she simply cleared her throat, then said, “I need to get up.”

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry,” he said as if each separate word were new to his vocabulary, and moved off her.

The chill air settled over her body and she shivered as she stood from the bed. Her nightgown fell to its original length, covering her naked lower half as she headed for the door.

In the bathroom she looked at herself in the mirror. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes still a little dazed with a mixture of sleep and satiation. She'd had sex with Alex Bennett. She covered her face with both hands, allowed herself a moment of bashing before taking a deep breath.

“Okay. What's done is done. Get it together and move on,” she told herself then grabbed a washcloth and switched on the water.

By the time she left the bathroom she was still giving herself directions for how to behave when she entered the bedroom again, what to say and what not to say to Alex. He would be gloating and probably tossing her words of not sleeping with him right back in her face. It would be humiliating, but it was her own fault. She didn't know what she was doing, didn't know they were
really doing it. It was a dream or at least that's how it had started for her. A private dream about getting closer to him. She didn't really want to get close to him. Or have sex with him, for that matter.

She stopped at the bedroom door and sighed.

She did want to have sex with him. She
did
want to get close to him. And it was fantastic. That was the biggest problem of them all.

“Congratulations,” she said as she entered the bedroom.

Alex was sitting on the side of the bed, his boxers on but his chest still bare. He turned to face her. “What?”

“Congratulations, you proved me wrong,” she said while heading for the side of the bed where she'd been sleeping before. “I think I'll be able to sleep just fine now. You can go back into the living room.”

She'd climbed into bed and was pulling the sheets up over her when Alex stood. He'd lit a candle while she was in the bathroom so she could see his dark eyes growing even darker as he stared at her. She wanted to reach over to the nightstand and blow out the candle, but refrained. Her cool composure was only seconds away from faltering.

“Excuse me?”

Monica released a deep breath and looked down at the covers she was smoothing unnecessarily. “Thanks for your help, but I think I'll be okay getting to sleep now.”

“Thanks for my help,” he said with an angry edge to his tone. “I can go back into the living room now. You're dismissing me?”

“I didn't say it like that.”

“You said it exactly like that. But just let me make
sure I'm clear. We kiss in the kitchen, you ignore it, don't mention it again. We kiss on the floor, again you act like it didn't happen. We make love and you—”

Monica's head snapped up at his words and she held a hand up to stop him from continuing. “We had sex. Let's not have any misunderstandings about what's going on. We had sex. It's done and we can't go back and undo it. Just like we can't undo the kisses. So there's nothing left to do but get some sleep.”

Alex looked incredulous.

She sounded crazy. Monica knew this. She heard herself talking while a part of her sighed with disgust. Never in her life had she backed down from anything, especially not a man. Well, not like this. And she wouldn't have thought Alex could bring her to this point. On second thought, she did think that of him. Since their first meeting she'd sensed that he was different. And because of that her defenses toward him had to change. Obviously she hadn't done such a good job changing them.

“Now you want to sleep?”

She didn't bother to answer because her mouth could not be trusted to go along with her plan.

“Okay, that's fine. We'll sleep.” He started walking as he spoke. “But I'm not going back in that living room. We've already ‘had sex,' as you put it, so there's no fear in that department. I'm sure it won't happen again.”

He was climbing into bed right beside her. Monica's heart beat a rhythmic jingle. “You can't be serious.”

“Oh, trust me, Queen, I'm so damned serious.” Punching the pillow beneath him, Alex rolled to his
side, lay down and pulled the sheets up over his shoulders. “Blow out the candle. I'm not the one afraid of the dark.”

New York

“B
ree just called,” Karena said to Deena through the phone; her sister and her husband had already returned to their home in Las Vegas. “Alex emailed Renny about Monica being there.”

Deena cheered and Karena could hear the smile in her voice as she clapped her hands together and said, “Yaaay, they've made contact. So what else did Alex say?”

“Not much. Just that they're both at the cabin and Monica's not happy.”

“No news there.”

“Right,” Karena agreed. “She's going to kill us when she gets back.”

“Not if she gets laid while she's there.”

Karena sighed. “Is that all you can think about?”

“Sure. Why not?”

“Deena, this is serious. We're interfering in her personal life. Doesn't that worry you at all?”

Deena sighed. “You're starting to sound like Sam. Look, Alex Bennett is a good guy. We're not trying to marry them off, just giving Monica a little push. She needs to relax and enjoy herself more. You know that. She's like a ticking time bomb, Karena. If we don't step in to stop her she's going to self-destruct.”

“I know. I know. I just don't know if this little intervention we've plotted is going to work or come back to kick us in the butt.”

“It's Monica, Karena, of course she's going to kick us in the butt. But if Alex Bennett's reputation is any indication maybe she'll go lightly on us on account of the supreme satisfaction she's gotten on this wintry vacation.”

Only Deena could rationalize this situation in such a way. After hanging up the phone, Karena went back into the bedroom she and Sam shared. He was already asleep. As were Romeo and Juliet, who preferred their bedroom to the nice little room set up for them next to the kitchen. This was her family, she thought with a sigh, then touched a hand to her just-plumping belly. Soon she'd add an addition to that family and she couldn't be happier. Deena and Max were already beyond ecstatic with the adoption of the most adorable little girl she'd ever seen. Was it such a bad thing to want the same happiness for her big sister?

 

The day was brisk. Correction, it was biting cold in New York. He hated this city, hated the lights and all
the people and traffic. His home was the South, where things moved at a slower pace and the rich had lineage and land to prove their status instead of condos and limousines and yearlong passes to everything showing on Broadway.

Yates Hinton was used to a much tamer lifestyle in Charleston, South Carolina. He had a house there on eighty acres of land, two cars and a thriving business. What he didn't have was the main reason for this visit to the city he despised.

Sitting in his hotel room, he watched the frigid air just about freeze against the windows as it blew. Even his coffee was now cold after only two sips. Thrumming his fingers on the table as he listened carefully to the report being read to him, he tried not to yell with impatience.

“So she's not here. Is that what you're telling me?” he asked the thin man with wire-rimmed glasses, beady little gray eyes and a mischievous smile.

“No. At the moment she is not.”

“When will she return?”

“Her assistant wasn't sure.”

“Wasn't sure or didn't want to tell you?”

He chuckled, a hollow sound that grated on Yates's nerves. He was paying this grinning idiot a ton of money to keep tabs on Monica Lakefield, to ensure that what Yates wanted he would soon get. So for now, he'd have to tolerate the slimy rat instead of wringing his greedy little neck the way he wanted to.

“Oh, she told me everything she knew. I can assure you that. But she doesn't know when Lakefield will be back. It was a last-minute trip. The plane ticket is open
ended. But here's the thing.” He leaned forward on the table. “And this is going to cost you extra.”

Yates leaned forward and stared into the fathomless eyes of this master extortionist. “Extra for what?”

His smile spread, thin lips moving over crocked teeth a shade or two shy of being white with one gleaming gold on the right side. “For the extra bombshell I'm about to drop into your lap. I think it's worth another twenty-five thousand.”

Yates didn't even blink, as if the amount he was asking for didn't matter. “I need to know what the information is before I agree to pay for it.”

“Nah, what if you back out once I tell you?”

“I don't have to tell you I'm a man of my word. You should already know that from our past dealings.”

“Yeah,” he said, contemplating Yates's words, rubbing a hand over his smooth-shaven chin. “You have been cool with your payments all this time. But that's because you were down south and needed eyes and ears here in the city. How long you planning on staying here anyway?”

“Don't get off the subject.”

“Twenty-five thousand. Agreed?” he said, the smile gone, his business glare locked into place.

Through clenched teeth Yates answered, “Agreed.” Just as Yates had been a man of his word, so had his informant over the past years. Sure, he'd paid him more than a high-school dropout could have ever hoped to make at a legal job, but up until now every report delivered to him had been worth it. He had no choice but to trust his instincts that this time it would be, as well.

“She's not alone on this last-minute trip.”

Yates sat back in his chair, his hands falling to rest
on his thighs, the wool of his dress pants itching his palms. “Who is she with?”

“This is the part you're going to love. She's with Alexander Bennett. You know, the big cell phone and Galerite computer chip mogul. The room at the hotel is in both their names. Cozy, huh?”

He never ceased to amaze Yates. How a man of his limited intelligence knew about such things as the Galerite computer chip and the company that had introduced and patented the multimillion-dollar computer upgrade ten years ago, he didn't know. But the one thing he was right about was that this information was worth twenty-five thousand.

“I want you on a plane before day's end. Follow them and report to me daily.”

He smiled. “And?”

Yates was already reaching for his cell phone. “I'll transfer the money to your account now.”

“No problem, boss.”

Aspen

“A
ny news from the outside world?” Monica asked as she walked into the kitchen the next morning.

Alex had awakened first and headed to the bathroom before they could have another confrontation. One in which he most likely would have grabbed her by the shoulders in an attempt to shake some sense into her. The warm water had done wonders to calm most of the temper he'd harbored through the night hours. But he was still sore at the way she planned to dismiss what they'd done.

As he'd dressed, Alex had calmed even more. He'd decided he'd deal with Ms. Lakefield the same way he dealt with business deals. He'd take his time, map out his course of action, make note of all the weak spots,
then move in for the kill. Or he could just let her have her way and move on.

Looking at her now, dressed in black slacks, patent-leather high heels and a gray sweater, Alex realized what he'd been trying to deny since the first time he'd met Monica—he cared about her. It was a swift connection from the very beginning, from the first chilly word she'd spoken to him and the spark of passion he'd seen in her eyes as she did. Everything from her cool exterior to her controlling personality and overprotective stance toward her sisters, ending with the vulnerability he saw the moment she realized they were trapped in the cabin. All of this made for one complicated package—one beautifully desirable, complicated package that tempted him sorely.

No, he wouldn't let Monica have her way. She wasn't walking away from him or what was brewing between them. Not if he had anything to say about it.

He shrugged in response to her question. “I guess no news is good news.”

She moved past him, he guessed heading toward the freshly brewed coffee on the counter. “Good news would be that the phones are working and we can get another room today.”

“You could at least fake it, you know.”

“Fake what?” she asked as she filled a mug with coffee.

“Act like you're okay sharing this cabin with me. Pretend that this is a lovely winter getaway and relax enough to enjoy yourself.”

She added only sugar to her coffee, then brought the cup of steaming liquid to her lips and took a slow sip.
“That wouldn't be realistic,” she said, quietly bringing the cup down from her mouth.

“And realistic is running away from anything that's not on your agenda?”

“I don't have an agenda.”

“Your whole life's been an agenda, Monica. Go to school, check. Get good grades, check. Go to college, check. Work at the gallery, check, check,” he said, trying valiantly not to sound as angry as he felt.

“You don't know me,” she said with a seething look.

He leaned back against the counter, folding his arms over his chest. “I know what I see. If there's something different you'd like me to draw my opinions from, than by all means please enlighten me.”

She was clenching the coffee mug with both hands now, her fingers pressing so tight her knuckles were almost white. But that was the only signal that she was uncomfortable, that his words had touched her in any way. Otherwise, she was the ever-cool, ever-composed woman he'd met before. The one he now knew was a fake.

“I don't owe you any explanations.”

“You don't? After last night you can really say that with a straight face?”

“Look,” she said, her patience obviously slipping. “We're consenting adults. We had sex. So what? Get over it.”

To say her words stung didn't quite explain it. Alex dragged a hand down his face and decided to take another approach. “Okay, I can get over sex. I'm a guy, after all. But not all sex results in pleasure. There was pleasure last night, wasn't there, Monica?”

She turned from him, putting the mug down on the
counter. “I'm not going to keep going over this. We really need to get another room,” she said then tried to move past him in a hurry.

He grabbed her around the waist, pulled her so that her backside was to his front. And there was no question that in this position Alex was going to take full advantage of her and the unstable mood she seemed to be in. With his mouth close to her ear, he whispered, “You liked when I touched you here, didn't you?”

His palms moved from her waist to her breasts, squeezing the plumpness in his palms.

She sighed. “Physical reaction is easy, Alex. It doesn't mean anything.”

“And you liked when I touched you here.” One hand moved down, sliding past her belt buckle, down the zipper of her slacks to cup her center.

A hiss escaped her this time but she didn't move, didn't make any attempt to escape his grasp.

“Again, physical.”

“But I touched you here, too,” Alex whispered, his lips kissing her temple. “You were thinking about me touching you long before I actually did. You were dreaming about my hands on your breasts, between your legs. You wanted me even while you slept.”

She could lie. But that wasn't her nature. She could avoid, which she was perfectly used to doing. But, Monica admitted to herself, she wasn't going to. Just because Alex thought he knew things about her, and actually did seem to hit some things dead-on, didn't mean she had to give in to him completely. It was obvious that he wanted this physical relationship between them. It was simple enough, she surmised. Anything else would be too complicated, too difficult for her to
even consider. But this—the feel of his hands on her, his lips on her, the shimmer of heat that moved throughout her body when he talked to her in this tone—she could enjoy this.

“I don't doubt there's a physical attraction between us. I wanted you and you wanted me.”

“Do you want me now?” he asked, nipping her earlobe. “When you woke up this morning did you wish I was still lying there next to you? Did you want me to come inside you again? Tell me, Monica. Tell me you still want me.”

Again, lying would be futile. She did want him. Again. And why shouldn't she have him? There was no real issue stopping them from having sex, as long as that's all they did.

“Yes,” she answered finally and let her body melt back into his.

He startled her with his next move. Turning her so fast she literally felt as if the room was spinning and lifting her up off the floor. She gasped when he set her on the countertop they'd just been leaning again.

“What—” She opened her mouth to speak but he moved faster.

His lips barely touched hers as his tongue took full advantage, reaching inside to meet hers in a heated duel that made her center pulsate.

“Don't talk,” he said, dragging his lips from hers, his teeth raking over her cheek, across her jaw. “Just feel.”

Oh, she was feeling, all right. Feeling dizzy, aroused, hot, anxious and a bunch of other words that were lost to her right now. Every physical reaction moved through her like its own private storm, filling her body
with a tumultuous yearning she was sure she'd never felt before.

“Let yourself feel everything I do to you. Don't analyze it—just let it be.”

Flattening her palms against the counter, she leaned back as his tongue trailed a heated path down her neck to her collarbone. Her breasts tingled, felt full and achy. They needed to be touched, wanted to be suckled. She arched her back and offered them to him, and he quickly accepted her offer. Deft fingers released each tiny button down the center of her sweater in record time. With what seemed like a magical flick of his wrist he unhooked the front clasp of her bra, and when her needy breasts sprang free he cupped one in his palm while taking the other's plump nipple into his mouth.

The whoosh of air she sucked in too quickly filled her lungs then came gushing out with a strangled moan. Her teeth sank into her bottom lip as she shifted her bottom, trying desperately to alleviate herself of some of the building need.

His mouth seemed designed to punish today, raking teeth down her rib cage, over her stomach, stopping when his tongue dipped inside her navel. She was arched completely back, bowed like a ballet dancer on the kitchen counter, when his quick fingers flipped the button on her pants. Without direction Monica lifted her hips, allowed him to push the pants and her panties down until they stopped at her ankles. She toed her shoes off and sighed when the pants and undergarments hit the floor.

“That's it, Queen, give me everything you've got,” he whispered as his hands pushed her thighs apart.

For an instant she felt brazen, like a temptress of
fering her wares. And he, Alex, the bronzed god that seemed infatuated with her body, looking down at her as if she was a feast for the taking.

That thought made her body hum all over. She moaned. He made a sound that reminded her of a growl, a primal sound that had her heart flip-flopping in her chest.

He touched her first, his fingers exploring her most secret part. Warmth washed over her plumped folds as he leaned closer, whispered something over her before dropping small kisses up, down, all over her aching center. Her nails scraped over the marble counter that had now grown as warm as her body.

When his tongue made one long stroke from the top of her juncture to the center Monica felt as if liquid fire now coursed through her veins. If she bit down on her lip any harder she'd definitely draw blood. Instead she opened her mouth slightly, tried to breathe as normally as she possibly could without hyperventilating. But it was a futile effort. Alex acted as if she were the most delectable meal he'd ever tasted. Every stroke was followed by a moan from him, his fingers moving over her with touches as light as a feather, sparking licks of heat up and down her spine.

His name tumbled from her lips. “Alex.” It sounded like a plea and she instantly wished she could take it back.

Strong hands moved to her thighs, lifting them slightly off the counter and pulling her closer to the edge, his tongue slipping deeper inside her. Her hips moved, worked in the same glorious circular motion as his mouth. Her head fell back, breath coming in fast pants, coherent thoughts flitting through her mind like
a foreign memory. Her hands itched to grab the back of his head, to guide his motions to fit her growing need. She refrained and felt the twisting feeling of being lifted higher and higher. So high that when she finally fell it was as if she'd jumped from a cliff into the clouds and with breathless pleasure Monica sighed his name again—this time not feeling a moment's trepidation.