Rocky Mountain Hideaway (To Love Again Book 2) (6 page)

It was the best sex he’d ever had, not that it was all sex, or what he thought of as sex. For him, sex had been going all the way. Now he could see that getting there was even more fun - the teasing that had led to mutual satisfaction in the Jeep during the drive out, the bantering over dinner, and the long sensual bath they had just shared. His Mrs. Robinson was right. Maybe the sexiest thing was the anticipation.

At this moment, he was vibrating with anticipation. Isabel had kept him at arm’s length while they’d dried each other off after stepping out of the bath. He’d longed to forget the towel between them and go for broke, but she hadn’t allowed him to do more than rub her with the thick bath towel. Of course, he had rubbed her more in some places than others. He tensed with the memory of her reaction. She was clearly as excited as he was, but tightly holding the reins for the continuation of their lesson.

She stretched before him on the bed, lying easily on her side, propped up with her elbow. The lips he longed to ravage smiled up at him and his heart skipped a beat.

“Have you ever had a massage, Tray?” she asked, her smile growing wider.

“Of course. They used to rub us down after football all the time.” He’d never thought there was anything sensuous about that kind of slapping and kneading. Memories of his hairy beer-bellied coach in a candlelit bedroom threatened to make him laugh out loud.

Isabel was already laughing. “That’s not exactly what I meant. I meant a more sensuous massage. One where you take your time, make your lover feel special. Knead the muscles while creating a need, if you know what I mean.”

She shifted the pillow beneath her and he drank in the easy roll of her breasts, the aureoles a brownish pink, and the white skin still flushed from the warm water. “I can guess what you mean,” he whispered.

“See - you’re a good student.” She rolled onto her tummy, presenting him with a fine view of her back veeing into the swell of her buttocks. “Since I’m teaching you how to seduce a woman, you’ll give me the massage.”

“Yes, teach, I’m all in,” quipped Tray, straddling her legs and grasping full handfuls of buttock.

Isabel squealed. “That’s not what I meant… exactly. You have to start with an oil, not just jump on top of me. Tease me, please me, ease me into it.”

Tray surveyed the oils, it looked like she’d brought half the drugstore with them. Clear oils, colored oils and bottles of lotions that had no labels. “How on earth do I decide?”

“On the left is a tall thin bottle with pink oil. See it?”

Tray grabbed the bottle, popped open the top, and sniffed. “Strawberry?”

“Uh huh. Pour a little on your hands and rub your hands together.”

“I thought I was massaging you.”

“First warm the oil before you place your hands on me.”

“So at some point, I’m going to be able to place my hands on you again?” he teased playfully.

“Tray. You’re impossible. Patience is a virtue, you know.”

“This goes beyond patience, Mrs. Robinson, this is bordering on Sainthood. You’ve had me on the edge since you got naked an hour and a half ago.” There was more truth in that statement than he needed to justify, but he wanted to put his new learning into practice and take the time to get to know her mind, her desires - not just rush into the horizontal mambo. Still, even though his erection had subsided slightly, it was still bouncing away happily as if it had a mind of it’s own. And it wasn’t hard to figure out what was on that mind!

“This isn’t going to kill you. Remember the word for today?”

“An-ti-ci-pa-tion?” Tray’s hands traced a path down each side of Isabel’s back, tracing the spine as he sounded out the word. “If we start with ‘A’ today, do we move on to ‘B’ in the next lesson?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out.” Isabel sighed as he started to move his hands slowly up her back. “Knead the muscles around the shoulders a little – you can use a little more pressure, I won’t break.”

Maybe not, but she seemed fragile to Tray. Under his large frame, she seemed like a doll. What was the song, five foot two, eyes of blue? He pressed into her back, experimenting, and was rewarded with a groan of pleasure. Encouraged, he stroked her neck, running his thumbs along her spine, up into her hairline and back again along her shoulders, down the outside of her arms.

Isabel shifted and, realizing his dick was bouncing against her back, he rolled back on his knees and worked his hands down her back, lingering on her buttocks and then down the outside of her thighs.

“Mmmm, good.” Her voice sounded far away and near sleep. He couldn’t let her go to sleep.

He poured more oil into his hands and stroked the back of her thighs, moving his hands slightly inward with each stroke until he was caressing the soft skin of her inner thigh. Up, down. Sliding easily with the oil.

“Ahhh.” The sigh seemed to escape involuntarily as Isabel shifted to allow him more access. Her pretty mound became visible as his thumbs reached higher up her thighs to her sweet center. When he touched her, he wasn’t sure if it was oil or Isabel. Either way, she was wet.

He let his thumbs trace the outside of her mound, spreading with the triangle, coming back together to the center, resting there, teasingly against the entrance.

Isabel pushed her hips from the bed, seeking more, and he slid his finger inside her. She moaned softly and he withdrew and slid two fingers back in. Her hips bucked against him, inviting him further.

With his left hand, he traced up her spine, vertebra by vertebra, eliciting moans from the writhing goddess beneath him. He ran his hand back down her shoulder, past her arm, tracing the outline of her breast pressed into the bed beneath her. His fingers glided in and out feeling the pulsing heat of her.

When he could take it no longer, he rolled her over and was captured by her lidded eyes. She was somewhere else and he’d taken her there. She licked her lips and the sight of her tongue had him diving for her mouth. His tongue outlined her lips, slid over her teeth and then tasted the depths of her mouth.

Isabel’s hand guided his back to her mound as she opened her legs to receive him. He teased his fingers lightly over her nub, nudging it from side to side with his thumb. Isabel whimpered and he matched the rhythm of his tongue in her mouth, with his fingers sliding in and out of her.

He nibbled her bottom lip, then trailed his tongue along her neck finally reaching her breasts. His tongue flicked over the slender nipples, hard and seeking his attention. Clamping his mouth around the nipple, he suckled while Isabel arched her back into him. Reaching for his free hand, she placed it on her other breast. He rolled the nipple between thumb and forefinger, while licking and sucking the other breast. The rhythm in his right hand never changed, but Isabel’s heat did. Her skin felt like she was on fire.

“The oil,” she panted. “Did you taste the oil?”

Tray licked the white skin of the breast where his hand had been and tasted strawberry. “It’s edible?” he asked with surprise.

“Yeah. Edible.”

He puddled oil in her navel, then dribbled a line down her tummy and pressing against her thigh to push her open, dribbled oil between her legs. She started, although he couldn’t tell if it was with excitement or the coolness of the oil. No matter, he would warm her up again soon enough.

His tongue lapped at the strawberry oil in her navel. Giving this woman pleasure was more fun than all the orgasms he’d ever had with the girls of his past. She’d revealed so much of herself to him, he truly cared about her pleasure. Grasping her buttocks he trailed his tongue down the trail of oil and heard Isabel’s sharp intake of breath as he drew closer to her mound. He pulled her into his face and plunged his tongue into her core.

“Tray.” Isabel cried sharply, thrashing against him. He plunged and licked. Suckling her clit, he slid a finger inside her and reached his other hand back to her breast.

She bucked against him, and he was suddenly glad she was so tiny. “I’m coming, Tray!”

He pinched her nipple while pushing deeper inside her and felt her warm flesh clench around his hand as her cries filled the room.

He licked at the center of her until she stopped pulsing, drinking in the taste of her. After several minutes, when her body relaxed again, he kissed his way up her body, along her tummy, over her breasts, until he could kiss her smiling lips.

“Tray,” she breathed. “Ohmigawd, Tray.”

“Shhh, baby. Just relax.” Folding himself around her, she curled into him and he felt her drift into sleep only moments before he slept himself.

CHAPTER NINE

Isabel reached for the pillow to cut the light that was like a laser in her eyes and woke enough to remember where she was. Once again, the bed was empty. Did that man never stay in bed? She rolled into his pillow, breathing in the scent of him, fresh yet musky and laced with the fruity smell of the massage oils.

From down the hallway, Isabel could hear a clanging of pots, a utensil clatter to the floor. The bedside clock announced 8:00. Sunday morning. Good grief, why was he up and about so early?

She shuddered with the memory of his massage techniques the night before. She hadn’t planned for things to go in that direction, but she was learning that her best laid plans were apt to go awry with Tray. She was supposed to be teaching him, but she was learning much more from him. Learning how to relax, let go, be spontaneous. She’d thought the whole massage segment of the evening clearly through but had been swept away again by pure want - Tray stroking her, kissing her, licking her. It had been so long and she couldn’t resist his attention, especially when it was focused so intently on her and on the part of her that craved him the most.

It was still hard to believe that he had trouble with women, although she had to believe the things he’d shared last night in the bath. There was no reason to make those things up. It wasn’t as if she was here out of pity.

He just seemed like such a natural - he was naturally sensual - she couldn’t imagine him fumbling his way through love-making.

Hearing his step in the hallway, she looked up as his large frame filled the doorway. “Good morning, sunshine.”

“Hi yourself,” she returned, drinking him in and wishing he would bring that fabulous body back to bed.

“Day’s wasting,” he quipped, crossing the room in two steps and flipping the blankets to the floor. “Up you get. Indian summer is here, and I want to show you some of my favorite trails.”

“We’re going hiking?”

“That’s the plan. Do you have a problem with that?”

Isabel did have a problem with that. She was older than he was and she didn’t want to underline that fact by huffing and puffing her way up a mountainside. The only trail she could imagine, was her trailing far behind.

“Uh, I didn’t bring the proper clothes to hike.”

“The boots you had on yesterday will be perfect and my friends always leave plenty of jackets. I’ll have you outfitted in no time at all.”

Apparently, he wasn’t taking no for an answer. Given that the alternative was to lie around the cabin all day, she sat up, swinging her legs to the floor.

“Do I have time for a shower at least?”

Tray grinned wickedly, a lock of hair falling into his eyes as he leaned down to nibble on her shoulder. “And wash off all this yummy oil?”

Isabel shivered with delight at the roughness of his tongue against her collarbone. He nibbled up the side of her neck and then caught her earlobe between his teeth and nipped her sharply.

Isabel protested. “Hey!”

“Up and at ’em, head doctor. I’m prescribing fresh air and dazzling views to help you forget your troubles.” He pulled her to her feet, and pushed her in the direction of the shower. “Shower, then come down for breakfast. I’ve made fresh waffles with strawberries…in case,” he whispered leaning into her ear, “we didn’t get enough strawberries last night.” With a quick smack on her bare bottom, he was gone.

Isabel tested the water and then jumped into the shower, marveling at modern day inventions. The massage oil hadn’t left her feeling sticky or her pores clogged. She felt smooth as a baby all over – some places more than others – and smelled faintly of fruit. She lathered the wash cloth and traced the lines on her body that Tray had followed last night. Down her neck, over her breasts, across her stomach. Back to her breasts. Over her thighs and between her legs. She could feel the heat of arousal starting to build. If she didn’t get out of this shower right now…She preferred to save her excitement to share with Tray. She’d spent enough time taking care of things herself.

Carefully rinsing away the suds, she felt her troubles drain away with the soap. She was feeling more sure that she could get her practice back on track, and, as long as she kept her emotions in check, she and Tray would both have what they wanted. Except she was no longer sure exactly what she wanted. Throwing the towel back over the rack, she shook her head of her silly girlish thoughts. Forget what she wanted. They would definitely both have what they needed. Keep your eye on the ball Isabel, she told herself, as she headed to the kitchen where the smell of sizzling bacon was tugging at her appetite.

CHAPTER TEN