on the bed, bending at the waist, finding his cock first with her hand and then with her mouth. He felt her tongue feather down the side of his shaft as her fingers lightly caressed his balls. She squeezed him as she took the tip of him inside her mouth, her tongue swirling all around it.
A drop left him, and he pulled back. This first time he wanted to come inside her body. Wanted to see her face as they both climaxed.
His hips jerked, and he realized that if she kept this up, he wasn’t going to last at all. He pulled his hips back, sitting up and noticing the very satisfied look on her face. Evidently she’d gotten what she wanted. She was a minx, and seeing this side of her made him wonder what else he thought he knew about Lindsey that he didn’t.
But he didn’t mind, because he was getting what he wanted, too. He took her hands in his, stretching them above her head as he levered his body over hers, shifting his hips until he felt the opening of her body.
“Got your way,” he rasped. “I hope you’re ready for me.”
“I am.” She lifted her hips as she wrapped her legs around him, and he slid into her. She held him tight to her and moved her hips to bring him closer each time. Cupping his buttocks, she pulled him.
She was tight and felt so good that he drove all the way home and immediately pulled back to do it again. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, lifting herself up to whisper hot words of need and desire in his ear. She told him how much she wanted him. How she needed him deeper and deeper.
And he did exactly what she asked. Drove himself into her again and again, deeper each time. He felt shivers run down his spine. Reached between them to caress her clit because he knew he wasn’t going to make it much longer. He was going to come and he wanted—needed—to make sure she did, as well.
She moaned his name, bit his neck and arched her body frantically underneath him and then cried out. He felt her body tighten around him, her inner walls gripping his cock and urging him on. Pounding into her, harder and faster than before, he gazed down into those big chocolate-brown eyes as he felt his orgasm rush through him.
He emptied himself inside her and then collapsed, careful to support his weight with his arms. He dragged one of his hands from where he’d held hers, caressing her arm and shoulder, and then rolled to his side, keeping their bodies joined as he cuddled her close.
She rested her head on his shoulder and ran her fingers over his chest. He felt each exhalation of her breath against his skin, and she sighed a little.
Did she regret this?
“I guess that proves it.”
“Proves what, gorgeous?” he asked, almost afraid of her answer. He wanted to lie here with her in his arms and just pretend for a moment that he didn’t have to let her go.
“That you’re not a dud,” she said.
HER BODY TINGLED, and she felt more alive than she had in the past year. She pushed herself from Carter and leaned back on her elbow so she could watch him. God, a man shouldn’t look like this. Not when he was lying next to her in bed. He was all sinew and muscle and, despite his reputation for being debauched, he was in very good shape.
He’d said he was retiring from snowboarding but there was no evidence of that in his lean, hard body.
His eyes were half-closed; he had one hand on her waist, idly gliding up and down her side. His hands were large but sort of soft when he touched her. The confidence and the courage that had brought her up to his room and into his bed were still there. Buzzing around in her mind, which was a little fuzzy from the drinks she’d had and the sex.
God, she’d had no idea sex could be like that. Could be that good. She understood now why so many people were tempted to miss their training schedules for it.
“Was it a surprise for you?” she asked a bit tentatively. Maybe this was the way it always was for him.
He fully opened his eyes, turning his blue-gray gaze on her. “What?”
“The sex. Or is it always like that for you?”
“Damn, gorgeous, the things you ask,” he said. Scrubbing a hand over his eyes, he grabbing a pillow from the head of the bed and bunched it up under his head.
“If I don’t ask I’ll never know. And you are a player,” she reminded him.
He arched one dark eyebrow at her.
“Not going to try to deny it, are you? I heard about many of your hook-ups over the years.”
“Why would I when you wouldn’t believe me anyway?”
“I don’t know. Actually, I really don’t know you,” she admitted. She traced the tattoo of Nagano on his hip. She’d skied there at a world-cup competition twice. She traced the path down his hip and noticed that he let her, just kept still while she ran her finger over his skin.
She didn’t know what to do next. She hadn’t been kidding when she’d said this wasn’t her kind of situation. And let’s face it, most etiquette books didn’t cover what to do when a woman ended up in bed with a bad-boy snowboarder. In fact, her mom would have probably said don’t end up there. She was practical like that.
He sat up and caught her hand in his, bringing it ever so slowly to his lips. He kissed her palm and then looked her straight in the eye. She saw the sincerity his gaze and something else. Something she couldn’t really define.
He leaned closer. She closed her eyes because it felt too intense. The room smelled of sex and Carter. That spicy aftershave she’d noticed that lingered in the air after they’d had a conversation.
“It was special for me, too.”
“Why do you think that is?” she asked, opening her eyes and almost smiling. She wanted to hear that she was different from the other women. Carter had exceeded her wildest expectations and made her realize that the safe dates and bed partners she’d had in the past weren’t the norm.
He laughed again. “Give me a minute to wash up, and then we can continue this conversation.”
He got out of the bed and padded naked to the bathroom, returning a moment later with a warm washcloth for her to use. He took it back into the bathroom, and while she was alone, she glanced around the room and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror over the desk. She notice her tiara with the year on it on its side near the bed.
She placed it on the nightstand before scooting up and getting under the covers. As she leaned back against the headboard, she realized he might not want her to stay.
This would have been easier if she’d taken him to her place. Then she maybe she wouldn’t feel so awkward.
He strode back into the room with all the grace and elegance of a tiger.
She forced a smile and what she liked to think of as her game face. The expression she used in the press room after a bad run, or when she’d had to go in front of the media and act as though it hadn’t mattered that her career in skiing was over after her fall.
Watching
