Snowy Mountain Nights (9 page)

He forced his attention back to their conversation. “But you say it's a pit stop.”

“Yes. I'm a graphic artist. I have a degree in it and everything.” She seemed almost embarrassed to share that with him. Her head dipped, and her lashes fanned down to hide her eyes. “I've been tightening my résumé and getting ready to shop myself around to ad agencies in the city.”

“The tattoo studio thing getting too old?”

“No, I'm getting too old for
it
. The boys there are kids. I'll be thirty-three in a few months. Way too old to be hanging around what feels more and more like a frat house.”

“You're beautifully seasoned.” He stroked her with his eyes. “Hardly too old, but certainly too talented to stay in a place you've outgrown.”

The flirtatious words flowed easily from his lips, surprising him. But his body had always been light-years ahead of his mind, knowing what he wanted and reaching out to take it before his always overprocessing brain could finish its particular set of analyses.

“Talented?” She toyed with her necklace again. “You don't even know my work.”

“I've seen your sketches. I know your talent,” Garrison said. “But I'd love the chance to know
you
.”

The light from the flames flickered over her skin, creating shadows on her face, pulling him closer to her seductive warmth. She licked her lips and watched him.

“Will you give me that chance?” He held out his hand.

At first, he thought she would refuse him, fight the impulse that had drawn her to his cabin in the first place. He could feel the longing in her. He understood what she needed. Her friend had fallen apart in the wake of her shattered heart; Reyna wanted to prove to herself that she was stronger than that, that she did not rely on a man's ring on her finger to hold her together.

He could already see that she was strong. She had rebuilt herself from a shell-shocked new divorcée into a resilient Circe who commanded his attention and interest like no other woman before. She didn't need a man to hold her together, but she wanted a man,
this
man, to hold her.

When she took his hand, the breath left his lungs in a silent rush. Her fingers curled around his, as if he was a cool mug of apple cider, and she longed to taste. She was warmer up close, her clothes and skin crisp with the scent of pine. Reyna smelled as if she belonged out there in the wilderness with the snow and trees and all the untamed beauty beyond his doors. He felt privileged to hold her in his arms.

“I'm glad you came here tonight.” He kissed her.

The sweetness of her lips nearly undid him. Reyna sighed into his mouth and pressed her beautiful length into him, her fingers scratching the back of his neck as their lips pressed hotly together.

“I didn't come here for this,” she whispered. “I promise.”

He nibbled her lower lip, slid a hand under her shirt. “Whatever the reason, I'm glad you're here.”

Garrison kissed her deeply, her mouth soft under his, the passion building between them quickly, a steady fire that rolled heat beneath his skin, flared a wick of lust in his middle and made him gasp with the surprising power of it. The fire seemed to claim her just as swiftly until their mouths were fused together, their breaths meshed. His pulse felt as if it would jump out of his throat at any moment.

He'd had his share of lovers, but no woman had ever burned passion in him so completely, had ever made him want to drop to his knees and worship and kiss her every inch up and then down again.

“I want to make love to you.” He murmured the words into her throat, his hands fisted in the thick bounty of her hair.

“I thought that's what you were already doing?”

Garrison smiled against her skin. Needing no further invitation, he peeled the clothes from her body, enjoying the slow unwrapping.

He hissed in soft surprise at the beauty he uncovered. The lace of ivy curled from her arm, around her biceps to her shoulder. Black ink on brown skin. A stunning work of art that covered one shoulder blade like the remaining wing of a fallen angel, the scattering leaves in a swirling pattern across her back and one hip.

Reyna sat, naked, on the plush white rug while the firelight played over her soft skin. Her fox eyes watched him, unblinking.

“You take my breath away,” he said.

Color rose in her cheeks again. “It's okay. You don't have to say that. I'm already going to let you into my pants.”

Amusement and desire warred in him. How could she make him want her so powerfully and also want to laugh at the same time?

“Now it's your turn.” Reyna jerked her chin toward his still-clothed body.

Garrison quickly lifted, unzipped and tugged until he was as naked as she was. Her gaze touched him everywhere, from his shoulders, down to his chest, his stomach. Her eyes lingered at his hips, on the proof of his desire for her. She licked her lips, and her tongue flicked out to touch her upper lip. The sight of it sent a bolt of pure desire through him.

“Come here,” she murmured.

He came.

Hard body. Hard intentions. The fire of his lust propelled him into her waiting arms. He wasn't sure what he'd done in his life to deserve the pleasure of her body, the gift of her desire, but he was grateful. Their tongues tangled again, her hands roving his back, his hips, inciting him. They only had a few hours of pleasure to share, but abruptly, he wanted more.

He wanted a whole weekend, even an entire month, of nights like this with Reyna. Those thoughts should have troubled him, but instead, they resonated with a sense of rightness.
Of course
he wanted her. She had been on the periphery of his life for nearly five years now, affecting his work. It only made sense that she was here, in the center of his personal life, sharing pleasure, and soon, sharing his bed. She touched the source of his desire, and he groaned into her hot throat. His thoughts scattered. His tenuous control broke.

In moments, she was beneath him on the rug before the fire, her back arching as he bit her throat and thumbed the firm peaks of her breasts. Her flesh was miraculously female, soft as silk and as necessary as air. Reyna gripped the back of his neck when he settled his mouth on her breast.

“Oh...”

He worshipped her body. Telling her with his mouth and hands how much he wanted her, how much he desired her, that the world beyond the door of his cabin didn't matter. Not for many hours yet. She writhed beneath him. Loveliness. Responsive. Stroking his body, digging her nails into his back.

Her thighs fell open to receive him, and Garrison groaned. The scent of her sex was like perfume, weaving in the air around him, pulling him deeper into the magic of her. He stroked her welcoming flesh. She was damp and plump, ready for him. She moaned his name, arched her glistening breasts to the ceiling while he caressed her wetly, and she sang her song of desire and pleasure for him.

Her nails scratched his shoulders. Her sex clutched fiercely at his fingers. Her face was all beauty, her eyes tightly closed, her lips parted, her thighs flung open to hungrily grasp at the pleasure he gave.

“Oh, God...”

Her breasts quivered with each sharp breath she drew. Unable to bear the temptation any longer, he tasted them again. She shuddered beneath him, fingernails scoring his back. The pain of it barely fazed him. He kept going, loving the feel of her around his fingers, the sweet heat of her sex, the scent of her passion, the firm buds of her nipples sliding beneath his tongue. Then she cried out, quivering beneath him, a perfectly plucked bow.

He reluctantly pulled himself away from her shuddering body and grabbed his jeans, his wallet. Garrison sent a silent prayer of thanks that the condoms were still there.

She sat up, panting softly, her body a flickering mystery in the firelight. “Let me do that for you.”

Reyna took the packet from his hand. Her eyes captured his as she tore the foil with her teeth. Garrison gasped when she touched him, her fingers a slow torture, a delicate dance of passion that made him want to instantly bury himself into her lush wetness. The breath shuddered from him as she finished sheathing him in the latex. Watching him carefully, she climbed into his lap and slowly, slowly lowered herself onto him.

He gasped, pleasure flooding into him with each millimeter clutch of her drugging heat. He held on to her. She held on to him. They moved together, a single animal, racing toward its pleasure. Her sex twisting on his lap, her gasping breaths. He gripped her hips and buried himself deeply, stroked the sweetness into her.

Reyna threw her head back and cried out as she came apart around him. The light kissed her long neck, her damp lips, the graceful heave of her breasts. Garrison gripped her hips harder, slamming up into her. The groaning pleasure exploded in his body, obliterating everything but the wet heat of her around him, the feel of her sweaty, slick body against his. His heart raced.

Reyna lifted her head, her eyes already drooping with fulfilled desire and exhaustion.

An unfamiliar tenderness welled up inside Garrison. He stood, keeping their bodies joined, and easily lifted her delicate weight. Her legs tightened around him, and she sighed.

He kissed her throat. “Let me take you to bed.”

Reyna only murmured sleepily in reply.

Chapter 8

R
eyna woke up to the sinful light of morning sun on her bare skin. With her eyes still closed, she sighed with the decadent pleasure of it and rolled over onto her side. Warm flesh touched her back. A hard chest. Masculine hands drifted to her waist and lower, stroking her hip. A rumbling, sensual sound pulled her eyes open to see Garrison watching her with delicious intention.

The memories from the night before—heat and sweat and Garrison's hoarse shout pressed into her skin—made her roll over to face him. Even though she had known he was well made from the way his clothes fit just so on his body, seeing his physical perfection up close and under the bright rays of the sun took her breath away.

“Good morning,” she said, unable to stop herself from touching his hard chest, the abs that curved beneath his skin like silken steel. Her hand wandered lower, where his body was already anticipating her touch. He drew in a breath.

“Yes, it is a very good morning.” His hands spanned her hips.

“I have morning breath,” she said when he dipped his mouth toward hers.

“What does your breath have to do with this?” But he didn't kiss her.

Instead, he licked her collarbone, and she shivered. Her thoughts flew away with each touch of his mouth on her skin. His morning whiskers rasped against her throat, her breasts then her belly. Her thighs fell open beneath his wandering kisses.

“Oh!”

He treated her like breakfast, as if he hadn't had a meal in weeks. His mouth was tender on her furred flesh, then on the center of her desire, a sweet magic that left her gasping. Reyna clenched her hands in the sheets as he made love to her with his mouth, the sounds of pleasure escaping her, uncontrollable.

“I love how you taste,” he murmured into her wetness. Then proceeded to show her just how much.

Her back arched with each movement of his tongue. She undulated on the bed, sunlight burning beneath her skin, her breath coming quickly while he made her moan his name over and over again. He hummed against her, stroked her completely inside and out. Soft, then hard, then soft, hard again until she came apart with a scream, her body electric with its release. Reyna was barely aware of him kissing her thighs and her belly, making his way up her body. She heard the sound of foil crinkling, then his hardness was between her thighs. Inside her.

“Garri—”

Again, the desire rose quickly, dashing her against the shore. Garrison captured her mouth as he moved inside her, deeply, passionately. His size stretched her, brought her a stinging pleasure. She gasped and locked her legs around his waist.

Reyna's body flushed with heat, and she clung to him, dug her nails into the firm muscles of his back. He hissed and moved faster, his sex thick and sweet in the heat of her. They groaned together, panted. The blankets tumbled from the bed, then the pillows. The headboard pounded into the wall. Reyna clung to Garrison, her life raft in the rocking sea of their lust.

His body plunged into hers, the perfect rhythm, the perfect pace. Then she was trembling again, shot through with white-hot bliss that made her hoarsely call out his name. Garrison quickened between her thighs, clutched her hips tighter. He spilled into her with a deep groan.

Reyna clung to him in the aftermath of her satisfaction, reveling in the sweaty heat of him, wanting to drown in it instead of rolling away in search of the coolness she usually preferred. His hard flesh called to the softness of hers.

She slid her arms up and around his neck, lifting her mouth for a kiss.

“What about your morning breath?” he asked with amusement in his voice.

She gripped the back of his head and pulled him down to press his heated mouth against hers. He moaned into her, his hips jerking once between her thighs where they were still intimately joined. Reyna throbbed around him. The morning spice of his breath, tasting of both sleep and her feminine desire, made her moan in appreciation.

She drew back to gaze at him, and a sigh left her mouth.

“There's so much fire inside you,” she murmured.

With wonder, she touched his throat where the steady pulse thrummed, his jaw that moved beneath her hands as he swallowed thickly under her caresses. Her thumb fit perfectly in the dimple at his chin. Reyna smiled.

It was a revelation, having him this close, to see the layers of the public Garrison peeled away to show this heavy-eyed and sensual man who actually cared. Before, while they'd played in the snow, and later, when he helped her search for Marceline, that man had peeked out. But now... Reyna's hands skated over his chest, the solid ridges of his stomach.

Garrison made a low noise and stroked her back, her hips. He was tired of being looked at and wanted to taste, that much was obvious.

“Damn, you are absolutely delicious,” he rumbled against her mouth. “I wish we had more than just this weekend.”

Garrison slid a hand between them, and she gasped when he found the hard button of her pleasure, circled it, teased it with expert fingers. She whimpered with rising desire. But the weekend...the
weekend
.

Reyna wrenched her mouth from his with a gasp. Her friends! Marceline. The reason she was even here this weekend. She didn't want Marceline to wake up and realize she was gone and think Reyna wasn't there for her.

“I have to go!” She pressed her palms against his sweat-slick chest.

“I know.” He kissed her, then slowly, achingly withdrew his still-firm flesh from hers. “Don't worry, it's early.”

But with more than a little regret, Reyna slid from the bed on rubbery legs. She tried to get her bearings before hunting for her clothes. She found them by the fireplace, discarded like confetti from a particularly wonderful celebration.

“Slow down.” Garrison appeared from the bedroom, wearing only pajama bottoms that hung from his narrow hips.

She stopped with her T-shirt halfway over her head, unable to prevent herself from staring at him. He came to her with a hand towel. Without him saying a word, she knew what he intended, and she blushed.

“Let me take care of you so you can have a more comfortable morning once you leave here.”

Then he dropped to his knees. Her face flamed, but she parted her thighs for him anyway and allowed him to wipe away the traces of their passion with the warm, wet towel. She squirmed at the thoroughness of his care, and her body responded despite his almost clinical touch. But she did not pull away. There was an undeniable confidence to him, a rugged masculinity about Garrison that was oddly amplified with him on his knees for her.

“Thank you,” she murmured tremulously when he was finished.

“Believe me, it was my pleasure.” He rose to his feet. “Now get dressed and go to your friends. I hope to see you later.”

Yes, please.

Although her body flushed with the desire to climb back into bed with him right then instead of waiting for whenever
later
was, she forced herself to reach for her underwear.

She quickly finished dressing and left. With each step away from Garrison, she pushed him from her mind, focusing instead on the situation she had left in her own cabin just a few hours before. The sun was up, but that didn't mean her friends would be. At least she hoped not. The cabin was quiet when she walked in, the shades drawn. The only light flowed in through the kitchen window that they never bothered to shade. She quietly shut the front door.

“Where were you last night?”

She nearly jumped out of her skin. Louisa sat at the kitchen table drinking a cup of coffee. She still wore her nightclothes, black silk pajamas that outlined her slender shape. There were faint bags under her eyes, as if she hadn't really slept.

“I stepped out for a little while.” Reyna glanced toward the closed door of her own room, wishing for an escape from the coming interrogation. She wondered if anyone else was awake.

Louisa's eyes were pitiless with amusement. “They're all still sleeping. I came out here a few minutes ago to think.” But from the look on her face, she was done thinking and was ready to talk.

Reyna mentally sighed, resigning herself to talking about whatever it was that Louisa obviously had on her mind. She just hoped it wasn't her sex life.

“Did you spend the night with that sexy lawyer?”

So much for that hope. Reyna poured coffee for herself and sat down. “Yes. Yes, I did.”

“Did you have fun?” Louisa asked. “You seem a little conflicted.”

After a moment's pause, Reyna opted for the truth. “I
am
conflicted.” She traced the rim of her coffee mug, the deep swirl of dark, hot liquid reminding her of Garrison. His touch. The way he tasted. “It felt good to be with him, but...”
It shouldn't.

“He's your ex's lawyer, I know.” Louisa made a dismissive gesture at Reyna's look of surprise. “It only took a few minutes with Google to figure that out.”

Reyna's face grew hot for the third time that morning over Garrison. She took a hasty sip of coffee to buy herself time to respond. Her thoughts were confused, brain warring with body in just about every way the man was concerned. He was gorgeous. He made love to her with a tender fierceness she'd never experienced before. With him last night, the past hadn't mattered. But in the full light of day...?

“There's more to him than the ruthless lawyer I met before, Louisa.”

“You don't need an excuse to have great sex, honey.” Louisa steadily regarded Reyna through the steam from her coffee cup, her face serious. “Get yours without apology. I just don't want you to be hurt over this.”

Louisa, for all her sharp edges, was the one among the three friends whom Reyna was closest to. She was also the one who knew her best. Louisa knew more than anyone just how unsettled the dissolution of her marriage had left her.

It hadn't been simply about Ian's infidelity, but about the trust she had lost, the disappointment in herself at being unable to make her marriage—something that was supposed to last a lifetime—work. While Marceline and Bridget had offered her money and a place to stay while things settled, Louisa gave her sound advice and the discretion of a confessional.

“I won't allow myself to get hurt,” Reyna finally said. “I know what I'm doing.”

But Louisa wasn't buying it. Her friend pursed her lips in disbelief. “You haven't been this preoccupied by a man in years. You need to be really careful.”

“I will.” But Reyna looked away, thinking of all the ways she hadn't been careful the night before. Against her good judgment, she had opened up more than her body to Garrison. She took a hasty sip of her coffee. “How is Marceline doing?”

Louisa gave her a look, but let her change the subject anyway. “I'm assuming she's fine. She actually slept through the night.” Louisa smiled briefly, as if aware she was talking about their friend as if she was a baby. “I only got up about half an hour ago.”

“Maybe she was just too exhausted. Especially after running all over the resort in the snow.”

“Yes,” Louisa said. “It's good that she slept. Maybe having us there gave her the comfort she needed to feel safe.”

“Or maybe sleep gave her the only comfort available to her. It doesn't help that we were all in shock at seeing her like that.” Reyna finally voiced the concern that had led her running into Garrison's arms. “She'd always been so strong. It killed me that that could happen to any one of us.”

Instead of her usual cynical comment, Louisa only glanced down into her coffee. “I know.”

They sat in comfortable silence, drinking their coffee while the sun rose higher, pouring its brightness into the kitchen and illuminating the blond wood of the old-fashioned log cabin table and chairs. The sunlight was warm through Reyna's clothes and reminded her of waking up in Garrison's bed—the heat of him, the passion they shared before she had to pull herself back to reality.

“It's okay to have this thing with Garrison, Reyna.”

Damn.
She controlled her blush with an effort.
Am I that obvious?
But she made herself look confused at her friend's unexpected comment. “What?”

“Just don't let him hurt you the way Ian did. It's easy to pitch off that emotional cliff when someone you love completely screws you over.” Pain flickered briefly in Louisa's eyes. “Sometimes complete despair is only one heartbreak away.”

When they woke up, Bridget dragged Marceline into the kitchen with determined cheer.

“Let's go for a soak in the hot tub,” Bridget said. “I didn't bring this fabulous body up here to keep it to myself.”

Marceline, who sat in her chair with shadows under her haunted eyes, smiled unconvincingly. “That'll be nice,” she said.

They left the cabin, wrapped up in their long coats and thick boots, walking down the path with their arms around each other's waists while Bridget told them a horrible but funny story about being snowed in with an inept lover.

“After his third try, I was ready to claw my way out of that damn apartment, blizzard or not!” She laughed.

At the tub, the scene was as empty as it had been when Reyna was there alone the previous day. The overnight snow had been swept clear, and the water bubbled blue and chlorinated under the bright morning sky.

The women sank into the water with identical sighs.

“This is nice.” Marceline splashed Bridget with a timid smile.

Her face was more engaged than she had been at breakfast. The sadness was still there, but that hint of lunacy from last night was gone. She seemed more in control of herself. Reyna was encouraged, but Louisa must have seen something in Marceline that she missed.

“You don't have to pretend with us,” Louisa said to Marceline. “We love you whether you're happy or crazy as a damn three-dollar bill.”

“Louisa!” Reyna poked her.

But a reluctant smile touched Marceline's mouth, this one more authentic than the last. “It's okay. I know what she means and really appreciate it. I just don't want to bring down the party.”