Back Cover Text
Note to Readers
HIS LIPS CLAIMED hers and, in that moment, her entire body came alive. The rumors about this sex god were true, beyond true, she realized as he pulled her into his arms, flat against his muscled chest, and the world outside faded away. Nothing existed but their bodies before the woodstove in this small lodge on the top of a remote peak in the Rocky Mountains. He tasted like pure animal magnetism, pure white-hot desire, everything she’d ever wanted and more she hadn’t dreamed of. Her clothes came off. Before she knew it, she was naked, and then it was electric skin against skin. She could almost feel the pulse of his need against her belly. She didn’t know where her heat began and his ended, and she didn’t care to draw boundaries. She wanted them all gone. God, how she’d fantasized about this moment, with this man, and how she’d never believed it could ever happen, not in a million years. He had his pick of women in Aspen, but now, finally—and at long last—it would be her turn.
The blizzard howled outside the wood lodge, a mournful call she felt in her chest, mirroring her own desperate need. She’d wanted him since she first laid eyes on him but had been so long denied. She’d pined in silence for months, even years. She’d yearned for this since she first fell in love with him, only she’d been in hell ever since. She’d been slowly chipping away at that friendship line, and now, finally, she’d gotten him to cross. She knew she was risking everything, his very friendship, and yet she didn’t care. Her need for him was just too great, her want burned in her hotter than the crackling wood in the stove. She couldn’t have stopped herself any more than she could stop the snow battering the windows outside. This might be her only chance, and she’d take it, her head buzzing with wine. She understood the dangers here, knew she was playing with fire. He didn’t do relationships, didn’t do love. He’d break her heart if she let him. This man wouldn’t settle down with anyone, wouldn’t be tamed, but that was why she wanted him so badly, she realized. She wanted to stand in the wind and howl, she wanted to consume some of his wildness and feel it run riot inside her. She wanted to be obliterated, completely, and then put back together again. She wanted him, the chaos he brought, and she wanted to ride it until she couldn’t ride anymore.
He laid her down on the bearskin rug, its fur surprisingly soft against her bare back. She soaked in all the details, because she’d want to remember this, now and always. She didn’t care about tomorrow. She only cared about right now, this man she’d stupidly fallen in love with. The man who might never love her back, but she didn’t care. She’d have his body even if she couldn’t have his heart.
Two months later
WHAT WAS HE doing here?
Allie Connor froze at the bar, her ruby-red cranberry vodka in the martini glass stopped halfway to her mouth. Liam Beck, looking too damn fine for words, eased through the crowd at the Aspen lodge, seeming like he already owned it in his ruffled-blond, leather-jacket glory, with more than a hint of stubble that said he only marginally cared what anyone thought about his shaving habits. He looked just as cocky as ever, and ridiculously fit, chiseled from free rock climbing, river rafting, snowboarding or whatever extreme thing he could think of to do to his body lately. What crazy-ass thing was he doing now? Bungee jumping without a bungee cord? Free-climbing up cliffs? Jumping into ponds of alligators?
When it came to Liam Beck, anything was possible. And whatever crazy risk he was taking suited him. He looked good enough to eat.
Not that Allie was falling for it. Not this time. Stay in your lane, she told herself. This all happened because you didn’t stay in your lane. She needed a straitlaced nice guy who regularly contributed to his 401(k). Not somebody who liked to hurl his body off snow-covered cliffs with nothing but a snowboard and his wits to save him.
“Trouble, two o’clock,” Allie murmured, pushing up her round, nearly clear-framed glasses, careful not to gaze directly in Liam’s direction again, lest he see her. She half turned, keeping him in her peripheral sights. Some upbeat, too-bright Christmas song floated through the crowd. Behind her sat a roaring fire in a stone fireplace, circled with small pub tables, and to her left a giant bar made of reclaimed wood, old antique iron fixtures hanging from the ceiling giving the pub a modern take on the gold rush times. Allie tried not to think that two months ago she’d had the misfortune of tumbling into Beck’s bed. Or, actually, the tremendous fortune. He’d been—bar none—the best sex she’d ever had in her life.
And
