“This one.” She outlined a puckered, two-inch zigzag between his clavicle and left pec. “What happened?”
“Bad landing on a ski jump.”
“Ouch.” She kissed it, then dropped her hand down to a thin, shiny line running between two ribs. “This one?”
“Collision with another skier.”
“So many scars,” she murmured, her fingers finding yet another. “So much pain…”
His hand covered hers, brought it up to his mouth, where he kissed her knuckles. “Sweetheart, you make me forget it all.”
The cabin shrank and heated tension thickened the air like fog. Body pulsing with need, she lifted her shirt over her head, leaving her bare above the waist except for her bra—the green satin and lace bra she’d purchased today at a swanky shop near Hausfreunde, along with matching thong underwear. She’d wanted tonight to be perfect, had spent almost two hundred dollars she shouldn’t be spending just so Sean would see her in the sexiest lingerie she could find. His reaction made the purchase worth every penny.
She could have sworn he stopped breathing.
His appreciative gaze took her in, and when he looked back into her eyes she knew she wouldn’t have changed a thing about today. She would have spent the money on the lingerie, and she would have gotten lost and taken shelter in this cabin, because nothing else could possibly compare with the enchantment of the moment they shared right now.
In a lazy, fluid motion of ropey muscle, Sean pushed forward onto his hands and knees, his face mere inches from hers as she sat on one hip, her legs curled behind her. His lips, firm and warm, came down on her mouth. He eased her back onto the fur and stretched the hard length of his body against her. The kiss was tender, a caress, and it matched the gentle glide of his fingers up her waist, her ribs, her breasts.
A low moan escaped Robyn as he cupped her through the delicate fabric of her bra. His thumb swept over her hypersensitive nipple, sending swells of heat shimmering through her veins. Her own hands were idle, she realized. She’d been so thoroughly submerged in sensation that she’d become mindless with pleasure.
She ran her hands across his broad shoulders and over taut skin that stretched over the rippling contours of his back. His breathing came faster as she slowly slid them lower to the waistband of his ski pants, and when she brought her hand around to his pelvis and brushed against his erection, his breath hissed through his teeth.
“You’re making me so hot I can’t think.”
She palmed his rigid length and flicked her tongue over his collarbone. “I don’t want you to think. Just feel.”
His naughty smile did the most wondrous things to her insides. “Oh, I feel.” He eased her bra strap off of her shoulder and licked where the strap had been. “I want you naked,” he whispered against her skin. “I want both of us naked.”
Robyn had never wanted anything more. “Music to my ears. A Billboard hit.”
She found the waistband of his wet ski pants and shoved them down his hips, only to be frustrated by the jeans he wore underneath. He helped, and moments later he was naked. Gloriously, deliciously naked, his skin bronze from the firelight, his body hard, honed, a work of art.
He pushed her back into the plush fur and leaned over her, eclipsing the firelight. Then he eased down her body to kiss her navel, his fingers working the zipper of her jeans. His kiss moved lower, to the hollow of her pelvis as he slid the jeans down, leaving her in only her skimpy satin thong and bra.
A familiar feeling of anxiousness twisted her gut. Why, oh why, could she not get naked with a guy without feeling like the fat teenager she used to be? She was in great physical shape; she knew that. So why did her old fears have to rear their ugly heads now of all times?
“You are so beautiful.” He slid back up her body to nibble and nuzzle her throat.
“I-I have stretch marks…”
He pulled back, captured her gaze with his. “I have scars.”
Robyn melted. The look in his eyes, the one she’d craved all her life, one of honesty and worship and wanting, made her soften inside.
But this was supposed to be a fun sex-fest and nothing more.
Gathering her wits, she pasted on a flirty smile as she reached down to take his velvety erection in her hand. “You’re not so bad yourself, you know?”
Air whistled through his clenched teeth as he sucked in a breath. “You have no idea how good that feels.”
She stroked down the impressive length and then back up to run her thumb over the plum-ripe head. “Tell me.”
She felt his groan all the way to her gut. “Like warm silk and, ah, yes…” He bit his bottom lip and closed his eyes.
Thrilled to bring him such mind-bending pleasure, she slid her hand down farther, to the soft skin of his balls. His eyes snapped open and he grabbed her hand with a breathy, “No.”
A bead of anxiety bubbled up in her throat. Was he going to back off again? She couldn’t take another rejection. “Sean?”
“Shh, baby,” he murmured with a smile that seemed a little shaky but that dispelled her concern nevertheless. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s just that what you’re doing feels so damned great that I’m about to lose it.” He drove a finger into the leg opening of her underwear, his knuckle grazing her clit and making her gasp as he worked his way back down her body to tug them off. “Can’t have that yet.”
With a flick of the wrist, he tossed her expensive thong across the room like it was nothing but a dust rag, and then he circled her ankles with his hands as he knelt between them. She felt exposed and vulnerable—and aroused beyond anything she could ever have imagined. Desire had coiled so tight inside her that when he slid his palms along her calves, her womb contracted with the beginnings of a release she already knew would take her apart, physically, emotionally and every other way a person could shatter.
His hands massaged their way to her thighs and she shuddered when his thumbs stroked the crease where her legs met her sex. Butterfly strokes caressed inward until he slipped a finger between her folds and brought her hips right off the bearskin rug.
“You’re so wet,” he said gruffly, and she whimpered.
She wiggled, aching for his touch. He smiled, knowing exactly what she wanted, but he drew out the torture by stroking everything but her pulsing clit. His fingertip circled her slick entrance, over and over, then he gently pinched her folds between her fingers, the pressure at once a relief and a torment.
Finally he flicked his thumb over her swollen, ultra-sensitive knot of nerves as a finger pushed inside her. She cried out, and again her hips arched upward to meet his touch. Her body was on fire, her skin burning, and she knew she was going to die from the intensity of what he was doing with his hands.
“Tell me what you want.” His hot breath fanned across her inner thighs, and she nearly jumped out of her skin.
“That.” She writhed, squirmed against his hand, needing his touch in exactly the right place. “Right there. That’s what I want.”
Another finger joined the first, pressing deep, and his thumb circled her center, starting wide, but working inward until she was panting, unable to take in enough air.
“Sean,” she gasped, “stop, or else—”
“Or else what?” He grinned and dipped his head between her legs to replace his hands with his tongue.
Robyn bit down on a cry of pleasure as his tongue swirled and plunged inside her in a rhythm that sent her thoughts careening into orbit. She gripped the bearskin beneath her until she thought clumps of fur would tear loose, and she couldn’t keep her hips from lifting to meet Sean’s talented mouth.
“You taste good,” he whispered in a voice rough with the need he controlled in order to bring her pleasure. “Like summer rain.”
That was it. All she could take. She welcomed the fiery tug of approaching orgasm, the sweet, spiraling sensation that whirled faster and faster as heat from the fire lapped at her skin and Sean lapped at her sex.
Release capture
d her and she couldn’t contain the scream of ecstasy as her climax took her, hard and deep. She hadn’t even settled her hips back on the floor when Sean covered her, his mouth on hers, his muscular body so welcome against her.
He took her mouth hungrily, nipping lightly at her lips and sucking on her tongue, mimicking what he’d done to her sex. The sensation brought her back to the height of arousal.
Still kissing her, he fumbled for his jeans and withdrew a condom from his pocket. Thank God he’d brought one, but disappointment came quickly on the heels of relief.
“You always so prepared?”
Rearing back on his knees between hers, he shook his head. “No, but when you called…” In the flickering light from the fire, she saw him blush as he rolled on the condom. “I was hoping.”
She wanted to believe him, that he didn’t always carry around rubbers in the event that some hot groupie propositioned him, but she wasn’t stupid. Still, his admission that he’d been hoping to use it with her made her shiver with pleasure.
Then he was on top of her and she couldn’t think anymore, not with the way his erection was stroking her slick opening but not pushing inside, the way desire pooled and pulsed through her entire body.
He teased her, and though she marveled at his control, she didn’t want it. Not now. Later, maybe, but now all she could think about was the way her inner muscles would stretch and clench around him. She lifted her legs, captured his waist between her thighs, and arched against him, desperate to feel him inside her.
“Greedy thing,” he growled, sliding his cock through her swollen folds, and she nodded, too far gone with lust to speak.
Finally he entered her, his thick shaft filling her with molten heat. He thrust home with a low groan, then ground slowly against her until that fierce need crackled and popped at the tip of each nerve ending.
Reaching up, she twined her fingers through his hair, pulling him closer with her hands and her legs, unable to get enough of him. He cupped a breast in his palm and drew the nipple into his mouth, nibbling and suckling, stroking it with his tongue. When he lifted his mouth away, she cried out in frustration until he kissed a path to her ear, where he told her how perfect she was, how sexy, how much more he wanted to do to her.
The downy softness of the bearskin rug beneath her contrasted with the steel hardness of the man above her, and she loved it. Loved the opposing sensations that assaulted her on the inside as well as the out.
He thrust faster, and his hot, panting breaths whispered over her ear and neck, sending tingles zipping across her skin. He looked at her then, his whiskey-gold eyes glittering darkly, and instantly she shattered, and then he shattered, too, calling out her name.
Arms shaking, he collapsed on top her, his weight more welcome than she’d ever have guessed.
“Baby,” he breathed, “you’re amazing.”
She’d never been called amazing before, but neither had she believed a man could be as amazing in bed, or on rug, as Sean was. How often did that happen, two people finding a chemistry between them that was so combustive it threatened to burn them up?
And she absolutely didn’t want to think about how rare what they’d found was, because that would lead to all kinds of trouble.
So though it took a long time before she could speak, she managed a polite and generic, “You’re not so bad yourself.”
Chapter Ten
It took an eternity or two for Sean’s breathing to return to normal, and even longer for his body to stop pulsing from the aftershocks of what Robyn had done to him. Not that he was complaining. Sex with Robyn had been incredible, a life-giving blast of oxygen, and if he spent the rest of his life huffing like he’d just skied a slalom, he’d be perfectly happy.
Gazing up at the log rafters, he absently trailed his knuckles along the gentle curve of her upper arm as she lay next to him, her head nestled in the crook of his shoulder. She snuggled closer and pressed a tender kiss to his throat. Unbelievably, desire stirred in his loins once more.
How the hell had that idiot, Damon, let her go? How had any man not seen what Sean saw—the caring, fun-loving, self-assured woman who managed to blend city girl savvy with small-town sensibility? Yes, she’d taken too big a risk by tearing up a slope too advanced for her confidence level, but her error in judgment was something he could understand—the need to push one’s limits in order to feel alive, to prove that life was more than simply existing in a daily grind. He could count on one finger the number of women he’d dated who could start a fire with two sticks and prepare coffee in the hearth.
And that one finger was Robyn.
Maybe Damon couldn’t deal with the fact that a part of her seemed inaccessible, just beyond reach. That side of her personality drove Sean nuts because he wanted all of her, not just the scraps she doled out.
He frowned, watching the shadows from the fire dance on the ceiling. No, self-absorbed Damon didn’t seem like the type of guy who’d even realize Robyn kept part of herself detached and concealed. Secret.
And truth be told, a couple of years ago Sean wouldn’t have noticed, either. Two years ago, Sean Trenton came first in all things. Number one.
God, what an ass he’d been.
But now that his ego had been stripped down to its essence, he could see deeper than the surface. And he wanted more than anything to ferret out what lurked beneath Robyn’s surface. He wanted to learn her secret.
But maybe he first needed to let someone in to see his own secrets. He’d taken his first step toward the cure for his insecurity by making love to Robyn. Now he needed to take the next step. The last step.
His gut churned at the thought of baring his soul to ridicule or disgust, but then Robyn nibbled at his earlobe, and his anxiety melted away like a late spring snow on a warm day.
“Mmm, it’s been forever since anyone has done that to me. Feels great.”
“Yeah, right.” She underscored her disbelief with a nip on his lobe that stopped just short of pain.
“What? It does feel great.”
“Not that. The forever part. You probably have women lined up with tickets.”
“The Sean ride?” He snorted. “Shut down due to maintenance problems. No longer exists.”
“Oh,” she began in a throaty, seductive voice, “I assure you, it exists. And in perfect working order.”
When he chuckled, she propped herself up on an elbow and busied herself by raking her fingers through his chest hair. “All right then, I’ll bite. What’s your idea of a long time? A couple of weeks? A month?”
“You’re going to think I’m a freak,” he warned.
Her hand stilled on his chest, and she gave him a sincere, solemn look, belied by her playful tone. “Sean. Baby. You’re afraid of clowns and cornfields. I already think you’re a freak.”
He grunted. “Clowns are scary. Admit it.”
Gazing at his chest, she resumed her play, drawing a series of figure eights on his sternum. “You’re avoiding the question.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He hesitated, listened to the fire crackle and pop. Oh, what the hell. “I haven’t been with a woman in two years.”
A disbelieving smile quirked her mouth. “Funny. Now, seriously. How long?”
“Twenty-four months.” And one week, two days, and some odd hours.
Her smile faded and her hand froze once more. “Oh my God, you are serious.”
“As a heart attack.”
She must have sensed that they’d crossed into new territory, treacherous territory, because she swallowed and stared into the fire for a moment before asking the question he knew would come. “Why?”
It would be so easy to make something up, to avoid this, but he’d run from it long enough, and for a man who had never run from anything in his life, running felt like losing. And losing felt like hell.
“I told you I had an accident two years ago, right?” To his dismay, his voice broke, but she seemed not to notice, only gave a slow, single nod and cocked her
head to the side so the razor-cut ends of her silky hair brushed his arm and chest.
“There was more to it than that. A lot more.” Her hand started moving over his chest again, this time in long, soothing strokes over his heart. His heart that had gone tachy from anxiety.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me,” she murmured.
He laced his fingers behind his head, exposing himself totally to her, something he hadn’t done for anyone but doctors since his surgery.
“I want to tell you. See, my accident wasn’t exactly an accident. I was angry, reckless, and skiing stupid.” Stupid hardly covered it. Barely scratched the surface. He’d been hell-bent upon outrunning his problems, and if he killed himself while trying, so much the better. Problems solved.
“I took a header off a ledge and slammed into a boulder. Broke my leg and a few ribs.” He laughed, and the bitter sound echoed off the log walls. “Made doubly sure my Olympic hopes were dashed forever.”
“What do you mean by ‘doubly’?”
Blowing out a long breath, he sat up, pulled the wool blanket from the couch, and settled it over her shoulders. He remained sitting, propped against the couch, and she stretched out, draping herself across his lap, one breast resting on his thigh. She cupped her head in one hand, facing him as he faced the fire.
“Six weeks before I was supposed to ski in the Olympics, I was diagnosed with testicular cancer.”
“Oh. Oh, God. I’m so sorry.”
He shrugged. “It’s okay. I survived, I’m over it.”
“Then why is it so difficult to talk about?” She pushed up slightly and studied his face. “Ah. You haven’t told anyone.”
Damn, she was sharp. “No one but family. And Todd.”
Todd, who made teenagers look mature but who’d been a loyal friend since childhood. They’d learned to ski together, and when Sean’s talent left Todd behind, he’d become a strong patroller and a great paramedic.
“Why not?”
He wrapped a thick lock of her hair around his forefinger and stroked it with his thumb. “At the time I didn’t need a pity party or a media circus. I let everyone except my family and friends think the accident was what kept me from skiing.”