Chapter 8
Chapter
Eight
Serena
Without electricity, everything takes longer, so the day passes quickly.
I can’t use the dishwasher so we have to do it by hand. In frigid water. But West is a gentleman and switches off with me while we’re washing the lunch dishes, and it feels like he’s always lived here.
We could shower, but the water’s way too cold, so we have to settle for sponge baths. I do my best to clean up, lamenting the condition of my hair, but there’s no help for it, so I braid it to get it out of my face.
For dinner, West and I split what’s left of the stew while Joey eats a peanut butter and jelly sandwich since he prefers it anyway. Not the healthiest but these are extenuating circumstances.
West goes outside to get more wood while I play a game with Joey and then when Joey’s finally in bed, we settle in front of the stove again. In the same spots on the couch, covered with the same blanket.
It’s colder tonight, after a full day without heat other than the stove, and I shiver a little.
“You cold?” West asks, moving closer to me.
“A little.”
To my surprise, he wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me against him. I hesitate for a fraction of a second and then allow myself to snuggle against his shoulder.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
How long has it been since someone held me like this?
Way too long.
I hate admitting how good it feels. How much I’ve missed it. I can tell myself I don’t need a man all day long—and my life proves that I don’t—but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t enjoy it. Even a few innocent moments like this.
“You were cold last night too,” he says after a moment, his voice soft.
He can’t see it, but my cheeks feel warm.
I was acutely aware that I woke up against his side this morning, but I pretended to be asleep until he got up so neither of us would have to acknowledge it. He definitely noticed, though.
“I guess I was,” I admit. “I’m sorry if—”
“You don’t have to apologize.” One hand strokes up and down my arm. “You were cold, and I tend to run hot.”
There’s probably a double entendre in there somewhere, but I probably shouldn’t say that. It’s not necessary. He said it for a reason, and I think we both feel whatever we’ve been feeling over the last twenty-four hours.
The looks we’ve been sharing.
The moments of intimacy that have nothing to do with sex.
A full day of…I don’t even know what to call it. It’s more stolen moments in time than reality but this is real. At least, it is to me.
I lift my head to find him watching me, his gaze dark and direct.
He wants to kiss me.
I want to let him.
But I shouldn’t.
This is just a temporary fantasy.
We can’t but—
“You’re beautiful,” he says gruffly. “And I really want to kiss you but I see the conflict in your eyes. If you’re uncomfortable—”
“No, it’s not that. I do want to but…you have to know, West. I don’t date hockey players.” I keep my voice playful, like it’s a joke. It kind of is. Even though a small part of me wants to mean it.
I feel him nodding.
“That works out because…I don’t date redheads.”
I want to laugh but instead, I lift my head to meet his gaze directly. “So, what does this mean?”
“It’s just a kiss, angel. Nothing more, nothing less. We’re adults and want to kiss. Your son is like twenty feet away, so I’m pretty sure you’re safe from anything else.”
Angel.
Has anyone ever used a term of endearment like that with me? If they did, it certainly wasn’t angel.
Who is this guy? I want to know so much more.
“Say yes, angel. I can’t do this until you do.”
“Are you…asking permission to kiss me, good sir?” It seems easier to keep the moment playful. Because the alternative is me ripping his clothes off and the two of us doing something we shouldn’t.
“Yes, milady. Do I have your permission to press my lips to yours and ravage your mouth?”
Sweet Jesus.
I’ve never thought of a kiss in quite those terms before, but the answer is undoubtedly yes.
“Yes,” I whisper gruffly, all playfulness gone.
His breath is warm as the touch of his beard tickles my skin, but it’s the look in his eyes that makes my breath hitch. Like there’s no one in the world but me. And technically, at this moment, it’s true. It’s the two of us locked away in a little world of our own with no access to reality.
But still.
That look.
My lips part slightly, but he’s in no hurry, gently pressing feather-light kisses on my mouth, like we have all the time in the world.
And I guess we do.
I snuggle closer, and he uses one of his hands to cup the back of my neck, drawing me in. He nuzzles my nose for a moment and then moves back to my mouth, sucking my lower lip between his.
Why does it feel so good?
“You’re sweet, angel,” he murmurs, continuing to nibble and suck on my lips.
No one’s ever kissed me quite like this and I’m immediately swept up.
There’s something addictive about West McGregor, and I wind my arms around his neck.
He shifts our positions so I’m on his lap and—sweet Jesus.
The erection pressed against my hip is…impressive.
I’m not a woman who’s ever been particularly concerned about how big a man’s penis is, but somehow I knew West would be large all over.
And my arousal shifts into overdrive.
My mouth opens for his as he slides his tongue against mine, using the tip to tease me.
A whimper of protest escapes me and I feel his chuckle before he deepens the kiss and…
does exactly what he’d promised: he ravishes my mouth.
His kisses are both tender and passionate, a combination of skill and the intense chemistry between us.
He tastes like toothpaste and bad decisions with a touch of destiny.
I’ve been kissed before but never in a way that makes me positive I’ll never kiss anyone like this again.
“Ah, you’re sweet, angel,” he whispers against my mouth.
“Where’d you learn how to kiss?” I whisper back.
“Eighteenth century England.”
I want to laugh, but he dives back in and our mouths move together hungrily.
Outside, the ice that’s settled on pretty much everything cracks and pops around us, but all I care about is the man whose arms I’m in.
How safe and warm and sexy I feel. The weather, the future, nothing matters except West. I might be a silly romantic but my body knows what my heart and mind are afraid to want.
“I’d take you to bed if I had a condom,” he breathes when we finally pull apart.
“I don’t have any either,” I admit in frustration.
“That’s okay. Kissing is nice.” He brushes his knuckles across my cheek.
“Touching you is nicer.” He runs his other hand down my chest, cupping the curve of my breast but then continuing down to my stomach.
He splays his fingers against my flat abdomen, and then gently slips beneath my shirt.
“I knew your skin would feel like this.”
“Like what?” I ask breathlessly.
“Soft. Smooth. Like a piece of silk.”
My breath hitches when he starts tracing little circles around my belly button and then moves over to my hip bone.
I watch him, fascinated, as he continues to touch and explore my skin without making any overt moves, without trying to undress me.
In some ways, it’s more innocent than second base in high school.
Except West is so much hotter than anyone I ever dreamed of in high school.
And bigger. So much bigger.
“If you keep that up, I might spontaneously combust,” I murmur.
He smiles, those beautiful blue eyes meeting mine. “Maybe that’s my plan.”
“I like this plan.”
“As much as I like touching you, flip around and straddle me.” His eyes burn into mine.
“I, er…” I hesitate only because I know how good that’s going to feel and we can’t do the thing I want most.
“Lots of things we can do without penetration,” he says gruffly. “Trust me.”
And for some reason, I do.
I shouldn’t, especially not after my experience with Joey’s father, but I do.
So, I move around until my knees are on either side of his hips and my core is settled firmly against his incredibly hard erection. His expression is that of a man who’s satisfied, even though he can’t possibly be.
Can he?
“Now rock yourself home, angel,” he whispers, settling his hands on my ass.
“But…what about you?” I ask.
“This is exactly what I want. No matter what the circumstances, my woman always gets off first.”
My woman.
I’m not his. Not even close.
Hell, this is essentially the snowed-in version of a glorified one-night stand. And yet, hearing him call me his woman makes the spot between my legs clench with arousal. Need. Excitement. Rubbing against him is so simple. So one-sided. But there’s no doubt he wants it as much as I do.
I lean forward, inviting him to kiss me, and he does.
Our mouths move together easily, and I’m already comfortable with the cadence of his moves.
I know just how his tongue is going to curl with mine—and how to reciprocate.
If he’s going to get me off fully clothed, I’m going to do my best to make him feel good too.
This time I’m the one nipping at his bottom lip.
Even as I grind my core against him, his cock settled between my legs, I drag my teeth lightly down his throat until I’m past his beard, so I can suck on the skin there.
He moans, fingers tightening on my ass, holding me closer.
His head falls back and I lick his Adam’s apple, sucking on it for a moment before sliding left and up toward his ear.
I tug at the lobe and then suckle the soft skin behind it.
I know he’s enjoying it because his hips have started to move, and his breath is choppy.
Much like mine. It’s hard to concentrate with the incredible pressure between my legs.
It’s like he knows exactly how to position himself for maximum pleasure and my body responds.
“Fuck, angel, that’s nice.”
Our bodies are grinding together now. His hips come up a few inches, I use mine to press down, and the friction is amazing. I rock forward, letting the pressure build as he pushes into my clit. Normally, I need more direct stimulation, but being like this with West is different.
“We’re about to make a mess, angel,” he growls.
I move a little faster, rubbing and grinding and wiggling, searching for the exact combination of motion and pressure to get me where I want to go.
“Just like that.”
My orgasm hits me out of nowhere and I bury my head in the crook of his shoulder to drown out my cries. To my shock, I feel him jerk and a low moan comes from deep in his chest as he pumps against me a few more times.
“Holy shit,” I pant.
“Damn, Serena. That was amazing.” His arms close around me and he pulls me tight to his chest, pressing light kisses on my temple.
“Did you get off?” I mumble.
“Well, yeah. I have this gorgeous woman on my lap—what did you think would happen?”
In my experience, men need a lot more direct stimulation to come. Apparently, all West needs is…me?
“I figured you’d need me to blow you or something.”
He snorts. “Whatever. I mean, I’ll never say no if you want to, but that’s not a need—that’s a bonus.”