Marissa curled beneath the blankets of his bed like a little bean. She’d drifted off after the most athletic shower of his life, and he let her sleep. He’d managed to make the trip over to Darby’s and back before she woke, which was good because he wondered the whole time if she’d be worried enough to go outside looking for him. The snow had stopped, but the freeze overnight put an icy crust on everything, making it more dangerous than before.
He peeled back the blanket just enough to see her freshly scrubbed face. With her light eyelashes and no makeup to hide the freckles, she appeared to be just as she was when he’d met her. Young and sweet and excited for what life had to offer. He’d been in his fourth year when she came to campus, enthusiastic for her future. He hadn’t even known Chris had a girlfriend until she’d walked with him into class that September. Over the next few years, Scott had warred with being both enthralled by her and disgusted by his friend.
Too often he’d tried to tell her the truth about Chris, but he’d backed out every damned time. Chris was the star player for the university, so doing anything to make a rift in the team would have come down on him, not the kid who couldn’t keep it in his pants. Telling Marissa wouldn’t have been much better. Chris would have denied it and she would have hated him for the mere accusation. He would have lost her completely, and he’d rather be her friend than nothing to her at all.
Not that those choices had helped him after her non-wedding fiasco. Catching Chris in bed with some girl the morning of her wedding had unleashed all sense of self-preservation. He’d rather ruin her wedding than let being married to someone like Chris ruin her life. They’d fought, and if Matt hadn’t pulled them apart it wouldn’t have stopped until one of them was unconscious.
He’d gone to the church, ready to tell Marissa the truth. But by the time he’d made it to the bridal suite, Chris had already called. The phone was in her hand and she stared blankly through the mirror. Her purple-wrapped bridesmaids swirled about the room, one of them telling him he shouldn’t be there. As soon as he started to reply Marissa’s gaze had latched on to his in the mirror. She started shaking, her jaw at first and then her shoulders, and before he could even take a step she closed her eyes and let out the most sorrowful cry he’d ever heard. The pain of it still haunted him, as if her heart had truly ruptured. She’d fallen to the floor and everyone had rushed to her. And in that moment he knew what a horrible, selfish mistake he’d made.
She wouldn’t have broken if he’d put her heart ahead of his. He should have told her, and even if his warning hadn’t prevented their wedding, the truth wouldn’t have come as such a shock. She wouldn’t have been blindsided. Because in the end, she’d hated him for it anyway.
He’d seen her the next day, when he and Matt had delivered a box of her things. She’d glared daggers at him, so enraged he’d wondered if Chris had blamed him somehow.
He undressed and slid into bed next to her, pulling her close. His feelings for her back then didn’t hold a torch to this. That had been a whisper of what they could be. He couldn’t let it slip away again. He knew better than to get attached to a woman who’d been completely upfront about leaving. But he’d gone and done it anyway.
She only wanted now, and he wanted more. But they had never been that simple. He couldn’t smooth the jagged edges of her past, but that didn’t mean he would let their future be sliced away by someone else’s mistakes.
“It’s your move.” Marissa leaned back in the wooden chair and crossed her legs as she assessed the chessboard, planning her next attack. The pieces were fashioned from nuts and bolts, a set Scott had made himself in middle school.
“You’re the chattiest person I’ve ever played chess with.” Scott slid his rook aside, offering up his pawn. He sat backward on his chair, resting his forearms atop the seatback.
“You’re the one who wanted to make it strip chess. Don’t get grumpy just because you’re losing.” He’d been fully dressed and she had him down to boxer briefs. It wouldn’t be long now. She didn’t take the bait of his pawn, focusing instead on the only thing that mattered. Checkmate.
“Honey, I’m not losing. I’m strategizing. And if you hadn’t noticed, we’re both down to our last article of clothing.” He opened up his bishop this time.
If he wanted to throw the game on purpose, she’d let him. After six rounds she wanted to head back to the bedroom.
She studied the board, planning the fastest route to checkmate. She slid her queen down, targeting the only piece he had guarding his king. He’d bested her twice, which rarely happened. It made him a challenge to play, and that made it fun.
“Sure about that?” Scott’s green eyes sparkled as he tilted his head toward the board.
“I’m more sure about beating you than I am that you actually made this table.” She kept her hand on her queen, knowing his comment was more about the mental game. She took her move, confident that she’d have him in two.
“You can’t see the flaws in the chess table the way the rest of my family can. Greg’s is all lacquered and shining at my parents’ house, while mine stayed at the cabin. He even made his chess pieces out of wood, but my table took so long my grandfather was too frustrated to fight me on hardware-store pieces.” He chuckled, as if it didn’t bother him.
“Do they favor your brother?” Not having to deal with sibling rivalry was a perk of being an only child, but it also meant she’d had to entertain herself growing up and would need to take care of her parents on her own as they got older.
“My folks? No, not at all. Greg and I have different personalities and outlooks. I think my parents are equally proud of and disappointed in us.”
“Disappointed?” He had to be kidding.
“Neither of us has given them a grandchild yet, and it’s all they want. My mom at least. My dad has a longer list of things, but he doesn’t have a genie to grant his wishes.”
“Like what?” She couldn’t relate. Her parents both thought she shouldn’t bother with having children. Parenting had never suited them. Once upon a time, she’d wanted to have the big family she’d never had growing up.
“He’d like Greg and I to give him free rein with the business, but he didn’t raise us to be yes men. Dad wants the business to focus on log home kits, which he’s been very successful with.” He offered up his other bishop, setting himself up to lose. “But it’s my grandfather’s, and now Greg’s, custom builds that get the company noticed. Greg’s filming a show this summer for the home improvement channel. My dad wants him to do a build with the kits, but that isn’t what got him the deal.”
“That’s amazing. The visibility of the brand will be beneficial to both sides of the business.” She moved her rook to box in his king.
“Dad knows that. He’s just competitive and prefers for his side of the business to make more money than the custom side. I’m going to help him with a few builds this summer while we’re filming. He figures his project will probably make it onto the show too.”
“You’re going to be on TV? How exciting.” He had a face for it, and body. Hell, she’d probably be seeing him smiling on checkout magazine covers before long.
Scott shrugged. “It’s Greg’s show, I’m just helping with the location and logistics since I live here. The real bonus for me is the network paying top dollar to rent condos all summer long. That kind of guaranteed income from vacation rentals could fund even bigger projects than we’re used to.”
“And you don’t think that’s amazing?” Her mind spun with possibilities. The town was a tourist destination anyway, using local businesses as a backdrop for the show would benefit everyone. Not that she’d be here to witness any of it.
“No, it’ll be great. But when they’re here it will be their complete focus, while I still have other businesses to run.”
And that meant he wouldn’t have time to play vacation fling with her this summer. Which she hadn’t planned on, but she felt a sense of loss nonetheless.
“Checkmate.” A slow grin spread across his face. “Off with your shirt.”
Marissa checked the board because there was no way she’d left herself that vulnerable. But in her focus to finish the game she’d lost sight of how his unprotected pieces allowed his queen to strike her down from across the board. She could have blocked any of them along the way, but hadn’t realized the hidden threat. It caught her by surprise. Like the snowstorm. Like Scott.
“If you think that sad face will buy you another round, it won’t work. I’ve figured you out, Marissa Clarke. Your opening moves are sharp and your endgame is lethal, but your long game needs work.”
“You don’t know that the games are over. I could be wearing something under your shirt. Did you ever consider that I may have let you win just to mess with you?”
“You’d never lose on purpose.”
He had her there. He rose from the chair and she did the same, letting her mind focus on the adoration in his gaze. She lifted her hands over her head and let him do the honors, the warm air of the room a welcome caress on her naked flesh. No matter what game she played with Scott, whether poker or Scrabble or chess, she won no matter the score. Because he was the ultimate prize.
“I knew you weren’t wearing anything else.” He tossed the shirt on a nearby couch and gave her a look that raised her temperature. “Your panties are decorating the upstairs bathroom.”
“Foiled by practicality.” She stepped closer and slid her fingers beneath the waistband of his boxers.
He dropped his gaze to her fingers, then lifted it back to her eyes. “Are you going to demand we play a tiebreaker?”
She walked her fingers up his torso, appreciating the hard planes and soft skin. “I can’t focus when you have your shirt off.”
“That happened after the first game.”
“And explains how you won the second.” She wrapped her arms around his waist and looked up at him. She’d chosen everything they did today—board games, sex, napping, reading, noshing. She really ought to treat herself more often. With Scott, and taking the time to do whatever she wanted instead of checking boxes on her to-do list. It felt decadent to be wild and free. Why hadn’t she allowed herself this before?
“What’s up next?”
“Besides you?” She held him tighter, pressing his hardness between them. She trailed her hands up the smooth muscles of his back, then back down to his perfect, tight ass. She’d never been this comfortable with a man, able to touch and take without hesitancy, without worrying she might do something wrong. “Is there anything you want to do?”
“Besides you?” Humor glinted in his eyes and his smile widened to match hers. “You are stunning when you’re happy.”
A blush heated her cheeks. “Thank you. This is by far the best Monday I’ve ever had.”
“You know, me too.” He tucked her unruly curls behind her ears, then lowered his head to kiss her bare shoulder. He’d turned her entire body into one fluid erogenous zone.
He leaned closer and whispered in her ear, “Are you sure there is nothing else you want to do? Once I get my hands on you, I’m not stopping until you’re completely blissed out.”
“Yes, please.” She licked her lips. Chasing that feeling had become an obsession. The more she floated in that post-orgasm heaven, the more she craved it.
He flipped off the lights and the room darkened, highlighting the reds and yellows from the fire licking his skin. Like she wanted to do. He kissed her neck, a flush of heat blooming from beneath his lips and radiating through her body. She wanted him to take her now. To make her his. Even if only for a little while. She closed her eyes, banishing thoughts of mights and maybes. Only now mattered.
“I’m going to make you come with my hands.” He nipped at her earlobe. “And then my mouth.” He licked down her neck, pressing the flesh of her shoulder between his lips. “And then my cock.”
“Scott, yes.” She gave in to the wet suction of his mouth on her neck. She wanted to enjoy, but she needed more. The second orgasm was always her undoing, and she needed to be undone. She reached between them, but he turned his hips.
He kissed his way back to her ear and whispered, “Today was about you. Let me make tonight the same.”
Unf. She pressed her cheek against his. “I can’t wait.”
He lifted her into his arms and her stomach tumbled. Everything about the last few days had been so incredibly romantic it was barely believable. But so very real.
Anticipation built with each step he took, her nerves dancing by the time they made it into his room. He laid her on the bed and she reached for him, her body resisting the separation like they were magnetically drawn together.
She could barely see him in the dark like this, rounding the bed like a shadow. She reached for him even before he’d touched the bed. Like she could sense him, will him to be where she needed him. As if by magic he was there, surrounding her. He kissed her deep and full, wet and hungry, as if he’d never stop. As if they’d been born to do this. A calling.
He stretched out above her, taking his weight on his forearms as he kissed her neck. She ached for him to be inside her, to feel his body shudder when he came. He kissed like they had forever, while an out-of-control fever consumed her to take what she needed. Now.
Nothing she tried hurried him from his slow teasing. She pressed her teeth into her lower lip and sighed, knowing she’d beg for him. For this. The strength in his arms. The passion in his touch. The promise in his kiss.
His single-minded focus on her became too intense. Too overwhelming. Too real. Her thoughts tangled until she didn’t know what to ask for. His fingers, his mouth, his cock. She wanted it all. But she wanted him even more. She pushed her fingers through his hair and brought his mouth to hers, communicating with a kiss what she didn’t have words for. He tasted like her sweetest dreams, like magic.
As if he could read her mind, he reached for a condom. For so long, forever really, sex had been underwhelming, something she did for who she was with. But with Scott everything inside her shifted. No one had ever held her the way he did, ever made her feel like she’d never get enough. She couldn’t possibly.
The bed shifted beneath her, the heat of him seeping through her skin to mix with her desire. His lips found hers in a deep, soul-shattering kiss. She wrapped her leg around his hip, pulling him closer. She raised her hips upward, her sex gliding over the tip of him, the raw physical sensation deepening her hunger. Her inhibitions stripped away, she rubbed against him and gripped his shoulders to bring him closer. She needed more than this, wanted him now.
“There’s no rush, sugar,” Scott said, his tone rough and husky.
“I need to feel you inside me.” The urgency in her own voice sent a rush of hormones through her, the rest of the world fading deeper away.
He wrapped his hands around her thighs and pulled her close, holding her hips steady as he slid his erection along her folds to tease her clit. A pulse of electricity throbbed through her with every stroke. He rocked against her like she didn’t need him to take her there. Now. The intensity of the sensations sizzled along her nerves, tightening her muscles and stimulating her sensitive flesh.
The delicious friction was almost enough to take her over. She rocked her hips, needing more. Frustration spilled out as a whimper, and she pressed her teeth into her lower lip to stop the sound. She wrapped her arms around his back, her legs around his hips, and tried for a better angle. She had to have it, had to have him. Now.
Hunger, longing. So close. So primed. Not enough.
“Please, I need you.” Her voice felt foreign, greedy. She had to give him more to bring him to her. But what? She held him tighter, pulling herself up to whisper in his ear. “I want you inside me when I come. I want you to feel what you do to me.”
He answered with a groan somewhere between a growl and a roar. He gripped her hips and eased into her with maddening slowness. Every time she tried for more he froze, showcasing a control she’d never have. It took a moment and forever before his thick cock pressed deep inside her. She squeezed him, making sure she engulfed him completely.
She tightened her legs around him. “Faster.”
“I want this to last.” He lowered his body atop hers. As much as she loved the heat and weight of him, she couldn’t stand to balance on the precipice of orgasm.
“I want to feel how much you want me.” Her voice caught, unsteady as her breath grew more ragged.
He drove into her, setting off a low moan shaken by his thrusts. Her eyes rolled back, her lids fluttering over them. So close. The intensity of the storm he built threatened to blow her apart. She reached out and gripped the sheets, anchoring herself to something, anything. So aware of him, she felt the pleasure radiating through his body, the sensations bigger than one person. She hoped he felt it too, this incredible unique sensation that was acceptance and pleasure and beyond all at once.
He pushed deeper with every thrust, her moans getting louder and more static as she tried to keep pace with him. But she couldn’t. She had to let it happen. Her mind went blank except for a lone thought. She couldn’t let this end. Not ever.
She arched and threw her head back, submitting to the pleasure pounding her, insisting she let go. Of everything. Lights exploded behind her eyes, her breath halting as her body quaked. Every muscle stretched tight, complete ecstasy taking hold. It was almost too intense. Almost.
She couldn’t tell where he began and she ended. He pushed deeper, falling into her as he cried out, a raw savage echo. She wrapped her arms around him and held him tight. She didn’t want to lose this.
To lose him.
To lose herself.