Chapter Nine #2
“I’m sorry you didn’t know sooner,” he said. “But tomorrow morning, I’m giving these photos to Doug to give to resort security. And I’m going to ask them to keep an eye on Derek, too, just in case.”
“I still don’t think Derek has anything to do with this. I see him on the slopes all the time. But that other guy—just seeing those photos gave me a bad feeling.”
“We know what to look for now. We can report him to security before he does anything else.”
“That does make me feel a little better.”
“Do you want to get some dinner?” he asked.
“I don’t want to move from this chair.” She yawned. “I should really go home.” Her stomach growled.
“Let’s order room service,” Liam said.
“That sounds perfect.”
They ordered burgers with perfectly crisp fries and ate with relish, and fed tidbits to the dogs, who sat beside their chairs, faces turned up, focused on their every move.
When they were finished, Nina wiped at her mouth and licked her fingers.
“That was the most delicious thing I’ve eaten in weeks. Maybe months.”
Liam was mesmerized, watching her tongue dart out to lick the tips of her fingers. Their eyes locked, and the sudden flare of heat cut through him. Suddenly, she leaned forward and kissed him, full on the lips. A kiss that tasted of salt and pickles and a remembered sweetness.
He put his hands at her waist, and she stood and moved to his lap, sitting sideways, her hands cradling the back of his neck, fingers threaded in his hair. He kept one hand at her waist and brought the other up to caress her breast. She leaned into him and let out a breathy moan.
“Nina,” he said, and slipped his fingers beneath her fleece top, brushing the soft bare skin of her stomach.
“You are the most distracting man, Liam Davies,” she said, and trailed her tongue down the side of his neck, sending shockwaves of desire through him.
“Do you know how much I want to make love to you?” he asked, and pressed his mouth to the base of her throat as she arched against him.
“At least as much as I want you.” She pulled back enough to meet his gaze once more. He read the desire there, but sadness, too. “This isn’t a promise for the future,” she said. “I just want to be with you tonight.”
“That’s all I want,” he said. He really wanted so much more, but he wasn’t one to press his advantage.
“Just give me a minute,” she said, and stood and went into the bathroom.
* * *
Nina stared at her reflection in the mirror, eyes flushed, pupils dark, lips swollen.
Then she grabbed the tube of toothpaste, used her fingers as a brush and ran it over her teeth.
She stripped off her shirt and washed off as much sweat as she could, then stripped off her bra as well and left it draped over the shower rod.
She put the shirt back on, fluffed her hair and called it good.
Liam had returned their dinner tray to the hallway and given chew sticks to the dogs, who shared the bed in the corner, both focused on their treats.
He had shut off his laptop and turned down the lights, so that only the dimmed lamps on either side of the bed illuminated the room.
She moved into his arms, and he kissed her with the skill and passion she remembered, gentle and firm, teasing sensation from her lips.
She didn’t resist when he urged her to the bed, and when he reached for the hem of her shirt, she pulled it off over her head.
He let out a breath of surprise when he saw that she was naked from the waist up, then grinned. “I can’t let you get ahead of me,” he said, and removed his own shirt.
This was the man she remembered—lean and lithe.
Dark hair was lightly dusted across the pale skin of his chest and arms. When they were both naked and she lay facing him, it felt both familiar and novel.
He skimmed his hand across her shoulders, then brushed the faint scar at the top of her breast. She opened her mouth to say that this was from the knife Nicholson had wielded, when he bent and kissed the faint white line and she could no longer speak past the lump in her throat.
Then he moved down her body, kissing as he went, lavishing attention on each place he touched, like a benediction.
When he reached her stomach, she arched to him and felt his lips curve into a smile.
He levered himself up beside her once more, and she hooked her leg over his thigh and urged him closer, his erection brushing at her entrance, a thrilling tease.
He cupped her buttock and squeezed. “I’ve missed you,” he said. “Being with you this way.”
“Mmm.” She kissed him, and he worked his fingers underneath her buttocks and slid them inside her, surprising a moan from her.
He kissed her cheek. “Do you like that?”
“Yes.” He knew she did, but she liked that he asked. Such a gentleman. Except when he wasn’t. She grinned.
“What are you grinning about?”
“I was remembering that time in Kitzbühel. In the hotel elevator.”
“The old hotel. The elevator at the end of the hall that almost never got used. You could stop it at the top if you knew the right buttons to push.”
“You stopped it and pushed me up against the wall.” She was a little breathless at the memory—that and the way his fingers were moving in and out of her.
“You were wearing that very…short…skirt.” He kissed her after each word.
“And no underwear.” He unhooked her leg from around his and rolled her onto her back.
Then he was kneeling between her legs, tearing open a condom package.
She watched as he sheathed himself, then lifted her hips and invited him inside.
Oh, she had needed this. Needed to lose herself in the feel of him, in the sensation of this erotic dance, taking turns at the lead, the pleasure almost beyond bearing.
She gripped his shoulders and urged him onto his back, rolling with him until she was on top, staring down into his beautiful face.
One hand on her hip and the other on her breast, he teased and caressed, even as she experimented with different rhythms, enjoying the glazed look that came into his eyes as she deepened her thrusts or increased the pace.
And then he moved his hand from her breast to her center, and stroked her until her vision blurred, and brought her to a release that made her cry out with the joy of it, and not a care who heard.
* * *
Liam lay beside her, his body turned toward her, one hand on her breast. Slumber had almost pulled him under, but he had fought against it. He wanted to look at her, to watch her at peace, and marvel at finding again what he thought he had lost.
He wouldn’t tell her this, but there had been other women since they had parted. A fellow photographer in Argentina. A pretty widow in Ukraine. But at some point in his bed they had always become her. He had been making love to her, at least in his mind, because she was the one he really wanted.
“Who is Nina?” the pretty widow had asked one morning as they dressed to go out.
He had looked at her, stricken. She had smiled sadly, then patted his cheek. “It is all right,” she said. “Sometimes, when I am with you, I am thinking of Vasyl.” Vasyl, her husband, who had been killed in the early days of the war with Russia.
He reminded himself that Nina hadn’t promised to stay with him.
So many things might tear them apart, not the least of which was her fear.
He knew about fear. He had never thought of himself as a particularly brave man, but he knew how to fight when the situation called for it. And he would fight for her.