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Authors: Christie Butler

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BOOK: Apres Ski
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He raised an eyebrow. “Just what every big, strong boy wants
to hear.”

A giggle bubbled up from her lips and she winced. “Ouch, that
hurt. Can I take another pain pill yet?”

“Not yet. C’mere and lay your head on my lap. Let’s see if I
can help.”

Without hesitation, Chelsea dropped to her back and rested
her head in his lap. The muscles of his thighs were hard and unyielding beneath
her but she felt as if she was floating on air.

“Okay, just relax.”

His fingers were sure but gentle as he threaded them through
her hair, stroking and scratching her scalp lightly. It felt so good that it
raised goose bumps on her flesh. He took his time, covering every centimeter
over and over. Despite her chemically induced haze, Chelsea’s body responded to
his touch. She was twitchy with desire, a warm wetness forming between her
legs.

“I love your hair. It’s so smooth and silky.” His voice was
deep and husky.

She’d always hated her hair, but right now she loved it too.
She smiled as his fingers moved down the back of her head to her neck. He
massaged the tense muscles there and she wanted it to never end. He used his
thumbs to stroke the tight knots and cords, working them away, easing the
tension.

Unable to hold it back any longer, she groaned. “Oh God,
Jud, that feels
so
good. Don’t stop.”

He laughed and leaned over her, his face close to hers.
“Someday soon, you’re going to be saying that to me while we’re doing something
else.”

Sleepy and in heaven, she asked, “Oh yeah? What’s that?” She
felt his warm breath on her cheek when he huffed out a laugh.

“When we’re in bed,” he said, “and I’m licking your pussy.
When I’m buried deep inside you and making you crazy.”

My, my.
She wanted to make a sarcastic comment about
him assuming too much, but neither of them had a doubt about where they were
headed and she wasn’t inclined to play games. She sighed. “That sounds good.”
There was no more talk after that, but he kept up the massaging motion. Fatigue
set in, and with the combination of her meds and the relaxation from his
fingers, Chelsea felt herself dropping off to sleep—images of a naked Judson
Tate atop her the last thing she remembered.

Chapter Four

 

Jud carefully settled a sleeping Chelsea on his bed. As much
as he wanted her to be awake and fuckable, he knew she was tired and in pain.
He leaned over and placed a light kiss on her forehead. Reaching down to pull
the covers over her, he got a whiff of her arousal. Fuck, she smelled sweet. He
couldn’t wait to have her and it was killing him.

Stepping away, he moved carefully. His dick was so hard, he
was afraid it might shatter. Closing the door behind him, he decided she looked
perfect lying in his bed, at home.

In the kitchen, he found some fixings for a sandwich.
Grabbing a beer, he took his dinner to the living room and turned on the TV,
keeping the volume low. He caught up on the scores while he wolfed down his
sandwich. Draining his beer, he leaned back against the couch, propping his
feet on the coffee table.

What a day. He’d gone from sheer terror at the sight of
Chelsea lying injured in the snow to relief that she was going to be okay, then
from delight that she was coming home with him to frustration that he couldn’t
have her.

And he wanted to have her—every day and every way. Closing
his eyes, he imagined tasting her sweet pussy, her juices running down his
chin. He pictured her lips wrapped around his cock, sucking him deep. He was
dying to fuck her, to watch as he thrust inside her, his dick splitting her
open.

Shit. He had to stop or he was liable to go into his bedroom
and have his way with her, mild concussion or not. And he absolutely couldn’t
do that.

Get a grip, Jud.
Just because the woman he suddenly
wanted more than life was in the next room in his bed, it was no reason to turn
into a Neanderthal. Besides, he cared about Chelsea.

Jud knew he’d been blessed with some gifts from nature—good
looks and a big dick. He’d used them time and again to his advantage, going
from woman to woman, happily fucking and avoiding emotional ties. He couldn’t
remember the last time he’d had an actual relationship. He was out of practice,
rusty. And that scared him a little bit.

He had no doubt that he could get Chelsea in his bed, win
her over with sex. But he wanted more than that. He wanted to settle down, be
happy with just one woman. And he wanted to give it a go with Chelsea Ryan. He
wanted to win her heart.

Pushing himself up from the couch, he placed his plate in
the sink and tossed the beer bottle into his recycling bin. Through the kitchen
window, he saw that the snow had completely stopped and the wind was gone.
Stars glinted in the clear night sky.

Tomorrow would be good for skiing but he wasn’t scheduled to
work. If he hadn’t had some editing to catch up on, he might have spent the day
skiing for himself instead of the company. And he also had a sick woman under
his watch. He’d love to convince her to stay with him tomorrow but knowing
Chelsea it would be difficult. She had a mind of her own.

Damn.
He needed a shower. A nice cold shower. In the
bathroom, he stripped off his clothes and stepped under a cool spray of water
until his hard-on faded. He cranked up the heat, soaping up and rinsing off
quickly. Grabbing a towel, he dried off and headed to the bedroom. The only
bedroom.

Chelsea was lying exactly as he’d left her, curled up on
half of his king-size bed. He pulled on a clean pair of boxer briefs and, after
a mere moment of hesitation, slid under the covers on his half of the bed. He
rationalized that he needed to be close to check on Chelsea and his couch was
damn uncomfortable.

She would never even know that he was there.

* * * * *

A drum line was crashing cymbals together inside Chelsea’s
head. Her eyes fluttered open and she found herself in the dark—literally and
figuratively. She had no idea where she was until she allowed her eyes to
adjust to the darkness. And until she turned her head to see a large male form
reclining a foot away from her. Jud.

She was not put out by the fact that he’d placed her in his
bed, nor that he had joined her. He had only one bed and he deserved a good
night’s sleep as much as she did. The LED gleaming from the bedside clock told
her it was almost one in the morning. She could have another pain pill.

Creeping out of bed, she went into the bathroom to use the
toilet. She found that Jud had placed her prescription on the vanity along with
a clean glass.
What a guy.
She unscrewed the childproof bottle, shook
out one of the large pills and tossed it into her mouth, chasing it with a full
glass of water.

A look in the mirror showed her face to be a little pinched
and pale. She ran her fingers through her hair, finding it fairly tangle-free.
She shut the light off and waited, readjusting to the darkness and taking a few
deep breaths, longing for her medicine to kick in.

Back in the bedroom, she sat gingerly on the mattress,
hoping that she wouldn’t disturb Jud. Sliding under the covers, she slowly
scooted closer to him. Usually when she looked at him, she was self-conscious,
afraid that she would blush a deep red or that he would be able to read her
every thought. There was a little light from the moon as well as the alarm
clock, so she took the opportunity to study him.

Chelsea had never seen a more beautiful man—tall and lean,
well-muscled but not overly ripped. His short, dark hair was soft and full, and
long thick lashes rimmed his eyes. A narrow nose sat above full sculpted lips
that begged to be kissed.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Chelsea relived their kiss last
night. It was so tender and sweet yet utterly sexual. She nibbled at her lip,
recalling the intimate things he’d said to her earlier tonight. Yes, she was in
over her head with this man, this player, this seducer of women.
But face
it, Chelsea
.
Jud is exactly the man you need, a guy who turns you on and
knows his way around a woman’s body.

It didn’t hurt that she was also crazy about him. She
suppressed an urge to groan, instead rubbing her thighs together as heat built
in her core. She wanted Judson Tate and it scared the hell out of her.

She rolled to her side, her back to his chest and slowly
scooted back toward him, imagining him holding her in his arms. Almost as if
she’d willed it, she felt the brush of his hand on her back. Without a word, he
wrapped his arm around her belly and gently pulled her to him. His breath was
warm and even on the back of her neck.
Is he
still asleep?

He radiated heat, his body firm as she melted against him.
Neither of them spoke as his hand lightly stroked her belly. She imagined his
fingers moving south and she could actually feel them opening the folds of her
pussy.

Instead he went north, sneaking his hand under her scrub top
and boldly moving up to cup her breast, thumbing her nipple until it stood out.
She stifled a gasp of pleasure, her headache now either gone or unimportant.
Either she was swept away with passion or her medicine had kicked in, because
she felt as if she were floating on air.

Those beautiful lips she’d just examined brushed the back of
her neck, again and again. She was on fire, needing his lips on hers. Before
she could turn to him, she found herself flat on her back. He moved over her,
his hard thigh muscling in between her legs. She’d barely taken a breath before
he covered her mouth with his, kissing her insistently. His tongue plunged past
her lips, tangling with her own, exploring.

At her breast, his fingers continued to work their
magic—squeezing her flesh, plucking at her nipple. Jud was heavy on top of her
and it felt heavenly. She reached up to clasp the back of his head, threading
her fingers through his silky hair. She kissed him back, thrusting her chest at
his hand. His erection was hard and thick against her thigh.

He reached down for the hem of her top and was slowly
working it up to remove it when a shrill beeping filled the air. They both
froze for just a moment and then Jud pulled away from her to shut off the alarm
clock. He rolled back and propped himself up on his elbow. “What the fuck?” His
voice was gruff.

“It’s me. Chelsea,” she said.

“Fucking hell, Chelsea. I know it’s you.” He moved quickly
to turn on the bedside lamp. “Do you think I don’t know who I’m in bed with?”

That was exactly what she thought, but he seemed pretty mad
so she decided to downplay it. Shrugging, she smiled. “I don’t know. I thought
maybe you were having a hot dream about some sex goddess.”

He shook his head and smoothed her top down. “I was. You.”

She fought her usual habit of self-deprecation and decided
to take him at his word. Still, she was unable to hold her blush in check. “Why
did you set your alarm for one in the morning?”

He ran a hand through his hair and yawned. “I thought I’d
better do a neuro check, make sure you were still alive.”

“Huh. Well, I think you need to brush up on your exam
skills.”

Jud laughed out loud and Chelsea smiled, relieved that they
could still have a friendly exchange despite the new physical aspect of their
relationship.

The smile dropped from his face and he furrowed his brow.
“Chelsea, you have a concussion. Why did you let me do that? Why didn’t you
push me away?”

“Um…is that a trick question?”

His smile returned and he brushed her hair back to plant a
kiss on her forehead. “I’m sorry anyway. I shouldn’t have done that, shouldn’t
have gotten carried away.”

“It was nice,” she said, reaching to grab his hand,
interlacing their fingers.

“Just nice? Maybe there are other skills I need to brush up
on.” He brushed his lips over her fingers. “So how are you feeling? How’s the
headache?”

“Gone. I took another pain pill a few minutes before your
alarm went off.”

“What? Jeez, Chels. Now I feel like a total rat—taking
advantage of a medicated woman. I’m an asshole.”

She laughed. “No, you’re not. Believe me, I was very aware
of what was going on. Probably more than you were, so I’m the asshole.”

“No, never.” The twinkle in his eyes gave way to searing
desire. “I’m gonna have you soon though. I want you, Chels. Badly.”

Unable to speak, she swallowed and nodded.

Jud reached behind him to flick off the light. Turning back
to Chelsea, he pulled her into his arms, tucking her head under his chin. “Go
to sleep. I’ll be on my best behavior.”

She sighed. “Darn.” She felt his laughter rumble in his
chest and it felt really good.

* * * * *

“I need to go home and get some clean clothes.”

Jud looked across the room to where Chelsea was curled up on
his couch, tucking a blanket around herself. She’d spent the day drifting in
and out of sleep while he’d gotten some work done. “What’s wrong with the sexy
sweatshirt and shorts I loaned you?”

“They’re a little big. The shorts are hanging down below my
knees.”

“I’ll take you home in a while,” he said, though he really
didn’t want to. He was getting used to having her around, even after just one
night. He
had
been dreaming about her last night. Sleeping Jud had been
doing all sorts of delicious things to Chelsea’s body. Then just like that, she
was there in his arms. Half-awake, he’d taken advantage of the opportunity and
explored some real warm flesh. His cock had already been hard, but it stiffened
even more when his palm reached her breasts. They were plump, larger than they
appeared when she was clothed. He hadn’t been able to resist tasting her, her
neck, her lips. He’d longed to feast on her breasts, only to be stopped by that
fucking alarm. It was a good thing though.
What kind of cad molests a sick
woman
on
narcotics?

“How’s your head, Chels?”

She stretched like a cat. “I could use another one of your
fabulous scalp massages.”

“I suppose I could take a break for my patient.” He closed
his laptop and moved over to the couch. “Sit up,” he said, sitting down in the
vacant spot. He pulled her back against his chest and started gently rubbing
her neck muscles. She made some noises that were more appropriate for the
throes of passion. His cock sprang to life as his thoughts wandered to a sexier
place.

“Ah God,” she groaned.

“Okay, that’s enough.” His hands dropped to her back and he
pushed her away. “Flip around and let me do your feet.”

Chelsea looked back at him over her shoulder, smiling.
“Really? I love a good foot rub.”

“Great. Just don’t make any of those orgasm noises.”

Eagerly, she turned around and deposited her feet on his
lap. “I can’t make any promises.”

Jud sighed and picked up a foot. “Okay, I’m going to quiz
you, make sure you still have all your marbles.” Chelsea answered his “who,
what, where, when and why” questions correctly as he worked on pressure points
on her foot.

“Is that all you’re gonna ask?”

“Huh, let’s see. Okay, what’s my favorite book?”

“Easy,” she said. “The last book that you’ve edited is your
favorite.”

He laughed. “I’ll give you a half point for that. What’s my
favorite book that I haven’t edited?”

Chelsea screwed up her mouth. “
The Call of the Wild
.”

“Ding, ding, ding. Excellent.”

“What’s my favorite book?” she asked.

“This is not a quiz for me.”

“Tell me anyway.”


To Kill a Mockingbird
.”

She lifted her head and raised a brow in approval. “Nice.”

“I’m not just a pretty face, ya know.” He winked at her.
“How about favorite movie?”

Chelsea rolled her eyes. “
The Godfather
. That’s every
guy’s favorite movie.”

Jud shrugged. “There’s a good reason for that. Now, you—you
would tell people your favorite movie is
Sense and Sensibility
, but
really it’s
The Notebook
.”

Her mouth dropped open in mock distress, then she laughed.
“That’s true.” She leaned back, cradling her head in her hands. “What bugs me
more than anything else?”

BOOK: Apres Ski
5.84Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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