In the Firelight (21 page)

Shea's eyes blinked open at the touch of Rhys' warm, hair-roughened skin against her bare thigh. The room was still dark, and for a moment, she struggled to remember where she was. She had slept so deeply, sated and weary.

Slowly, her mind registered that they were in his bed without so much as a scrap of fabric between them. She was snuggled against his defined chest, curled into his arms, sheltered and protected. Her body felt tender and so alive. His hand skimmed along the delicate skin of her back, and she unconsciously pressed tighter against him.

He held her still for a moment before pressing his lips to her forehead, drawing her from her stupor. Pushing up on her elbow to look down at him in the almost darkness of the room, she momentarily admired his awe-inspiring appearance. Thick lashes, his angled jaw, the fullness of his lips.

She truly loved waking up with him.

Dammit
.

Frustrated with her own uncontrolled thoughts, she furrowed her brow.

"You look pissed again," Rhys murmured.

"Not pissed. I just, um... just a few more days, right? Before you leave?" she asked softly.

Rhys pushed her back, rolling up over her. "No, you don't get to do this. Not yet. I've wanted you from the minute I first saw you in the firelight. Right out of the
fucking
gate.” His hand cupped her cheek to hold her gaze steady with his, and his voice lowered. His knee nudged its way between her legs, spreading them as he nestled his growing hardness against her. “Reality doesn't get to intrude yet. Right now, it's just my body and yours."

Shea gasped with a renewed need, and his lips caught hers for a hard, fast kiss before he pulled her tightly against him and growled in her ear.

"Just you and me, sweetheart..." he groaned as he sank into her deeply, smoothly. But oh so full, forcing a hoarse moan from deep inside her. Her hands grasped his forearms tightly, pillars of solid muscle that supported most of his weight above her. As wet as she was, she was a little sore, overly sensitive from his touch. She could feel the slow slide of his cock push into her until he was fully inside, stretching her tender, abused flesh and wringing a ragged groan.

"Fuck, honey..." Rhys whispered as her back arched with his slow withdrawal. He pulled out almost completely before shifting and filling her again. The sensation sent tingles throughout Shea's entire body. A sharp cry escaped her as he lowered his head to catch her tight, throbbing nipple in his mouth, and he teased the peak vigorously before trading sides to tickle and torment the other breast.

“You’re mine right now, Shea,” he gruffly uttered. “You don’t get to think about being away from me, not yet.”

So she didn’t.

She willingly focused all her attention on his hard thrusts, his clenching fingers, his labored breathing.

And she loved every second.

Rhys lay quietly in the growing morning light, watching Shea sleeping soundly beside him. Lightly, his fingers traced the smooth curve of her cheek, the gentle arch of her brow, the softness of her hair. His body was sated, but his mind was whirling.

She was incredible.

He had to stop McHugh.

He had to do something. Over the past few days, he’d begun to see things through her eyes. He’d begun to feel a bit tied to this small community, this family of sorts.

It would be the end of his work for McHugh. The man was not forgiving. Bitterly cold and heartless. Sentimentality had no place in business. Until this point, until this
job
, Rhys had never had a problem with it.

But something about this place—
this woman
—was different. This independent and feisty soul who seemed so strong and controlled. Until he got under her skin, poked and prodded. Until she succumbed to him and came apart around him. Until he looked in her eyes, the sparkling hazel with little brown flecks, and saw something inside that she didn’t show the rest of the world.

Shea might like her solitude, but she was lonely. He wasn’t sure she even realized it herself, seeing it as a choice. A way to prevent the loss of love. Almost everyone important to her had left her or let her down. Her parents had passed when she was so young. Her grandparents had been the last of her family. Her husband had not appreciated the glorious gift she had given him. So she kept her distance from any attachment, convincing herself that her friendship with Michelle, her pseudo-aunt role with Michelle’s kids, was enough.

He could still taste the tears that had run down her cheeks when she released the reigns last night, when she relinquished herself over to him.

Rhys, please
… her shattered sob echoed through his brain, causing his gut to tighten.

It suddenly seemed so hard to take. Looking back at his life, he wondered how he’d reached this point. He’d be thirty years old in a few months, and, until now, he’d been content. Not entirely what he could call happy… but satisfied.

Now his dreams were changing, and it was terribly unsettling.
How was he supposed to deal with this?
Because he knew that, out of respect for her and whatever it was he was feeling, he’d have to tell Shea the truth. His reason for coming here, for initiating this seduction.

She would feel played… used.

She would hate him.

Feeling cowardly, he considered not telling her and just leaving. To try and stop McHugh. At the very least, he knew he had to extricate himself from the emotionless, tyrannical businessman.

Slipping from the bed, from the softness and warmth of Shea’s arms as she slept, he quietly dressed and left to make a call.

McHugh looked at the display on his ringing cell phone. Rhys calling to check in.
Good boy
…

He answered with a brusque tone. “Rhys, how are things in Snowcreek? Anything new?”

For a moment, he only heard silence before Rhys heaved a frustrated sigh. “I’m not sure about this, McHugh. I can’t crack her… And, honestly, I wonder if maybe she’s a little bit right.”

“What?” McHugh barked angrily, completely aghast. “Rhys, what the fuck is wrong with you? I don’t give a shit if she’s right. I’ve got too much money tied up in this. If it goes to hell, I’m in big shit.”

“Sir, you probably shouldn’t have started with this one. They have some valid concerns. I can’t in good conscience go along with this anymore.”

“Since when the fuck do you have a conscience?” McHugh sneered. “Listen, son, I don’t give a shit about their concerns. If they don’t like the resort, they can fucking move. It’s a free God-damn country. Nobody says they have to stay. In fact, knowing some of the backwoods imbreds that likely live there, it would probably be better for business anyway.”

“I’m not doing this, McHugh,” Rhys said steadily. “I’ve done a lot of shit for you over the years…”

“And you’ve been well-paid to do it,” the older man bellowed.

“…but I’m done. I’ll be back in a week or so to clean out my office.”

McHugh could practically hear the finality as Rhys clipped a short goodbye and disconnected the call. After hanging up, he sat tapping his fingers on his desk. Rhys had always been a sure thing. He’d never let him down. Over the past eight years, he’d always done everything necessary—
everyone
necessary—to ensure McHugh’s deals went through.

But all good things must end, and apparently Rhys was at the end. He’d lasted longer than some of others had in the past. But it was time to cut the boy loose.

McHugh reached again for his phone, punching in the number for Jeff in the company’s IT department.

“Yo, boss,” Jeff answered.

“Need you to do something for me, Jeff. I need you to do a search in Rhys’ email. Anything related to Shea Madison and Snowcreek, Montana. Forward all of it on to me.”

Chapter 16 ~ The Truce

It was the feel of him deep inside that awoke her. Him filling her. Withdrawing. The delicious push and pull as she tightened around him.

The next thing she noticed was the sensation of his smooth, hot skin on her fingertips as she dug into the rigid muscles of his back.

The rough texture of him as he moved against her. The dusting of hair trailing down his abs that rubbed against the smooth skin of her stomach.

The puffs of breath in her ear, followed by a throaty moan.

The grip of his heavy hand on her thigh, pulling her leg up beneath his arm to spread her wider for his possession. In a dreamlike state, the pressure built inside her and she tightened around him.

“Rhys…” she breathed.

“Shea,” Rhys groaned into her hair. “Fuck, sweetheart… what you do to me…”

He wrapped her tightly in his arms as he began to move faster, drawing tremors from her body with every stroke. He was so deep inside her, entangled so tightly around her. She teetered over the edge for a moment before she fell with a gaspy cry into shuddering abandon as the flush of his orgasm washed through her.

He kissed her so softly, along her eyelids and down the curve of her cheek, making his way to her tender lips. Her eyes opened slightly as she felt him raise his head, and he gazed down at her with an unreadable expression while he ran his fingers along the sensitive curve of her neck.

“You’re beautiful, you know,” he whispered. “I’ve never met anyone quite like you.”

“Ditto…” she said softly.

For a time they just lay there in the afterglow of their lovemaking. Shea explored his features with the soft pads of her fingers. His strong cleft of his chin, his intense blue eyes. His short growth of beard that spread across his jaw.

What would it be like? If this were something to hang onto, would it all work out in the end?

Or would she just lose him eventually, too?

Pained by that thought, finally Shea spoke. “I should get home pretty soon. Wolfie is probably feeling rather abandoned at this point.”

Rhys nuzzled her forehead in response, placing a soft kiss between her brows, and his arms tightened around her momentarily before he released her and rolled to his side to rise.

Shea watched the play of the muscles of his back as he stretched and scrubbed his hands over his face, running his fingers through his tousled, just-fucked hair. He looked back at her with a soft, almost sad smile. “I’ll find you something to wear. You put that dress back on, and you’ll likely never get to leave this room again.”