“I was right at the tree farm,” I breathed, still reeling. “When you smile, really smile, it’s irresistible.”
He seemed taken aback, surprise flickering. “This is the first time I’ve been happy in years.”
He pressed his lips to mine again as his low, husky groan reverberated, a primal sound that fueled my desire.
“Hey! Clear the path!” A skier’s voice cried from uncomfortably close. His companion chimed in, “Get a room!”
Alex efficiently unclasped our shoe clips, stepping out of his skis and nudging me to do the same. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he gathered our equipment, hand sliding down to interlace our fingers. “I think we should follow their advice.”
“Clear the path?”
“No,” he smirked. “Get a room.”
Chapter 28Grace
Anxiety crackled in my veins and thrummed at the base of my neck as we entered the suite in the ski lodge. I wanted to turn off the part of my brain that fixated on the pressure to perform, about how much money he spent — he hadn’t looked at the invoice when he slapped down his credit card, but I did.
I wanted him to take control, craved the surrender to his warm hands and assertive directions ….
But he surprised me, scowling at the rustic-chic room like he was inspecting it for bed bugs, passing right by the bed, and leaning his elbows on the balcony railing to look over the mountain.
I followed, leaning the back of my elbows on the railing to face him. The metal bar under my foot quivered.
“What’s the plan, Clarke?” I jeered nervously, butterflies pounding against my ribs. “You dragged me up here for the view?”
“It’s a nice view.” His shoulder raised lazily. I itched to rub my clammy palms along my pants, wondering how he could seem so calm when I was exploding on the inside … until I noticed a sheen along his upper lip.
Oh my gosh. Arrogant, cocky Alexander Clarke was nervous. About me. He’d reluctantly admitted last night that it had been years since he’d had sex, and now he hid his insecurities behind cool detachment.
He’d paid for this fancy-pants suite to finally have sex and he got cold feet. And if I tried to verbally reassure him, to let him know that I was freaking out too, he might shut down more.
Holy heck. I was going to have to seduce him.
I didn’t know how to seduce … but I knew somebody who did.
I promised myself I’d never tell Alex what I was thinking as I channeled his sister’s alluring charm.
I glanced over my shoulder at his view of the mountain then assessed him top to bottom, not hiding my blatant perusal. I mimicked his shrug with a flirty grin. “This view’s better.”
I dropped my ski cap on the balcony floor and slid down the zipper of my coat, feeling none of the chilly December air, insulated by his hot gaze. I loosened my boots and let the snow pants drop, leaving a pile of gear on the concrete.
Standing in my long underwear on the windy balcony, watching his composure unravel with each discarded article of clothing, I’d never felt more powerful.
I tipped my head coyly towards the skiers. “You gonna stand there while I give all these people a show?” I reached for the hem of my shirt as a growl rose from his throat. Before I could raise it an inch, my body was being effortlessly carried into the room.
“They don’t get to see you before I do.” He lowered me on the bed and stripped off his outerwear. Then he was down to his base layer, crawling up the mattress, blue irises overtaken by his dark pupils. He propped himself on his forearms over me and I wrapped my arms around his shoulders.
His mouth was sweeping, claiming, plundering. My hands cradled his jaw, scraped over his scalp, clawed at his back. Weeks of pent-up yearning unspooled — no yoga class to teach, no work to interrupt, no family listening in. His greedy mouth departed for a journey down my jaw, my neck, my collarbone, and landed on my breast. His teeth scraped through my shirt, letting out a masculine growl as my nipple puckered under his attention.
My patience snapped, pushing him up and dragging the shirt over my head. Cool air brushed against the sweat on my skin, my cold nipples warmed by his hot mouth and steady hand over my sports bra. I should have pulled that off too, or offered to shower — god, we were so sweaty — but before I could, he pulled up the hem and latched onto my tight bud.
All thoughts disappeared as I arched into his mouth, weaving my hands into his hair as he licked and sucked. Words evaporated, replaced by whispered curses and plaintive begging. His hips dropped, his cock grinding against my thigh.
I slid a hand between us over his tight thermal pants, inadequate at concealing his arousal. I stroked him over the thin fabric as he let out a needy groan. My hand trailed under the waistband, wrapping around his hard cock.
“Wait,” he moaned, his body not wanting to stop but his mind awakening.
“Wait,” he repeated, reluctantly removing his mouth from my breast.
“Wait,” he panted again, lifting to hover above me.
“Why?” I murmured with a playful squeeze of his shaft.
“It said — this isn’t how we’re supposed to …” He dropped his head to my forehead. I ran my hand along his cock again, kissing the side of his jaw. His arms gave out and his chest dropped into mine, his long underwear rubbing against my tight nipples. “This isn’t — Shit, Grace, I had a plan.”
A surge of joyful laughter bubbled up at how thoroughly he’d thought this through. Only Alexander Clarke would mansplain sex to someone with her hand down his pants.
I smiled against his mouth as I trailed my thumb over the head of his cock. “That’s cute, Alex. Tell me your plan.”
He rolled away and tugged his pants up, then stood to catch his breath. “We need to talk.”
Oh God, I’d read this all wrong.
He hadn’t been nervous in need of seduction. He’d changed his mind.
I’d been in this situation before. After, ‘We need to talk’ came, “You’re a sweet girl, but …’