Whiteout

Chapter Twenty-Two

Ian stood behind her. He watched Breanna, her face upturned as she peered through the glass, waiting for a snowflake to tumble from the sky. Subdued, she’d hardly spoken since they left her father’s room. He didn’t get her mother’s logic. What reason could she possibly have for withholding Shane Dalton’s life, and how he died, from their daughter?

Breanna wasn’t a child—if she were, maybe he could understand it. She was a grown woman, and she deserved to know the man her father was. The family stories that Valerie could have shared with her. Gone now. Lost forever. It made him angry she never got to hear them.

Wrapping his arms around her, Ian kissed the top of her head. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

He shot her a look, lifting his brow.

“No, really, I am.” Breanna smiled a little, fingering the collar of his sweater. “I have his words, and you have no idea what that means to me. It’s like he left a piece of himself behind.”

“Words on a page live forever,” he said, holding her hand to his chest.

With a nod, her smile grew brighter. “I’m going to get his novel published someday.”

I know you will.

She turned back to the window. “Look, baby, it’s snowing.”

“So it is.” Kissing her neck, Ian caressed her breasts. “Did you know every single snowflake is different? Not one is like another.”

“I’ve heard that, but I don’t understand how that can be.”

“It’s true,” he said, his hands sliding under her sweater to feel soft, warm skin. “Even snowflakes from the same cloud will have different shapes and sizes.”

He kissed her then. There would never be another like her, either. And she was his, dammit.

Hera pawing at the door, Breanna pulled her head back. “I think she wants to go out.”

Ian opened the glass door, and leaving it ajar after the dog scampered off, returned to Breanna. He didn’t say a word, and neither did she, as he took off all her clothes. Like the first time he gazed upon her naked and beautiful in a cabin in the storm, he wrapped her in a throw.

“C’mon.”

He brought her outside, removed the blanket, and tossing it to the sofa, Ian assisted her into the steaming water.

After stripping off his clothes, he eased himself in behind her, holding her back against his chest. She looked up at the sky to watch the snow gently tumbling from the clouds. “It’s so pretty.”

“Each snowflake takes its own path to meet the ground. That’s what makes each one distinct and uniquely beautiful.”

Strumming her skin, slippery beneath the water, Ian tasted the salt on the curve of her neck. He kissed his way up the column of her delicate throat to her jaw, before she turned her mouth toward his, and he tasted the tears on her lips.

Her head falling back on his shoulder, Breanna held his hands to her breasts and squeezed. “I need you to fuck me, Sin.”

Gladly. His teeth sinking into her flesh, he groaned.

“And when I scream, fuck me harder,” she said, nipping at his mouth. “The only thing I want to feel is you.”

He’d always give her anything she wanted, whatever she needed. Easing his dick inside, he thrust upward slow and deep. Even when he met the resistance of her body, he pressed farther.

“Fuck, yes, keep going. Just like that. It hurts,” she sobbed. “But I need it to.”

He didn’t want to hurt her. Not like that. It wasn’t what she needed. He pulled out.

“Nooo.” Her nails sunk into the globes of his ass. “Put it back in me, baby. Please.”

“Shhh.”

Ian wrapped her in his arms and just held her. When the shudders subsided, he turned them both around and reclined against the hot tub’s molded bench seat, positioning her on top of him. “I want to see those pretty blue eyes looking right at me, princess.”

Her luscious pink lips turned up at the corners.

“Go on. Put me back in.”

Fumbling in the water beneath her, Breanna notched him at her entrance and slowly lowered her body down.

“Fuck, yeah,” he growled. “Take it. All of it. My good girl, look at us.”

Her gaze flicked to where their bodies joined. She smiled, and then those pretty eyes locked on his.

Ian pulled her down to his mouth, his tongue eagerly seeking hers, as he moved in and out of her purposefully slow. Breanna might be in the dominant position, but he was the one in control. Because this wasn’t going to be a fast and frenzied race to the finish.

Each delicious stroke an unhurried movement, he pushed in deep, as far as her body would allow, before gradually withdrawing until the head of his cock was the only part of him left inside her. His fingers gripped her hips, keeping her in place. The heated water swirling around them, he did it over and over again, letting the pressure slowly build.

“Sinjin.” Filled with him, she dug her nails into his flesh. “Please.”

In a swift maneuver, Ian swiveled them both up from the ledge. Her legs coming around his waist, Ian stood in the middle of the steaming pool, Breanna impaled on his dick. Snowflakes landed on her face as he guided her body up and down, thrusting into her soft pussy with all his might.

“What do you feel, Breanna?”

“You. Just you,” she mewled, hypnotic blue eyes locked on his. “I love—”

“I do, too, baby.”

I do. I fucking love you.

She picked an ornament out of the red tote and glanced at the floor-to-ceiling glass. A minute ago, like a scene out of a Hallmark Christmas movie, the glittering snowfall made for a picturesque backdrop. Now, a mere sixty seconds later, it spun in a white whirling dervish outside the window, and as far as Breanna was concerned, there was no longer anything pretty about it at all.

The grand tree stood at least twenty feet tall, the tip of it close to touching the wood beam in the ceiling. After a delightful afternoon in the hot tub, she and Sinjin cuddled together in bed, not emerging again until dinner. When they arrived downstairs, Francie had a festive spread set out. Crisp leaves of endive topped with dill-shrimp salad, Thai meatballs, baked brie, a tree-shaped charcuterie board—all sorts of handheld foods to nosh on—along with a rich red wine punch. And Ted had erected the realistic-looking artificial tree.

That it was fake surprised her. But then maybe her grandmother hadn’t seen the point in taking down a real one, only to admire it for a month before chopping its dried-out carcass into firewood.

“It looks so beautiful,” Francie said in awe, setting a tray of cookies down on the coffee table. “Makes me want to put up the rest of them.”

“There’s more?”

Up high at the top of the tree, Sinjin looked down and sniggered. “Heh.”

“At least a dozen. Ain’t that right, Mrs. Keeler?”

Ignoring her husband, Francie turned toward her and shrugged. “Your grandmother just loved dressing up Dalton House for the holidays.”

“We’re stuck inside for the time being, aren’t we?” Picking up a cookie, Breanna popped it into her mouth. “Let’s do it.”

“Guess I’ll be dragging more shit up from the basement.” Sinjin chuckled, coming down off the ladder.

He came to stand beside her, and with his hand squeezing her shoulder, whiskey eyes gazed down into hers, holding her against his side. A faint smile curved his mouth and the way he was looking at her had nerves rioting in her heart.

Staring at them, Ted cleared his throat. “Did you make any coffee to go with them cookies, Francie?”

“That’s a silly question, dear,” Francie said. “Course, I did.”

“Bring me some whiskey to get my insides warmed up, too, will you?” Watching the storm intensifying outside the window, Ted addressed Sinjin, “As soon as there’s a lull, we’ll be moving some snow, I reckon.”

“Yeah, and by the looks of it, we’ve got a foot out there already.”

With a grunt, he nodded, and taking the bottle of whiskey from his wife, Ted poured Sinjin and himself a more than generous dose.

“Easy there, Mr. Keeler. I don’t need you to go sliding off a roof or anything.”

“No need to worry, dearie. We won’t be clearing any roofs just yet.”

Francie, looking wary, studied Sinjin, sipping on his whiskey-laced coffee, his arm around Breanna. “Have you spoken with Derek, Ian?”

“This morning.”

“Did he mention what his plans are?”

“He’ll be here Friday,” Sinjin answered, rubbing Breanna’s shoulder.

If that was supposed to be reassuring, it wasn’t. While grateful she didn’t have to face Derek alone, just the thought of having to be in the same room as him again made her body tense.

“For the weekend?”

He rested his ankle on his thigh with a shrug. “I guess so, but he didn’t say.”

“In that case, I’m going to call your mother. Invite her to come up for the weekend, too.” Clasping her hands together beneath her chin, Francie looked her way. “My sister can help with the Christmas decorations if we’re not finished by then. She’s an interior designer, you know.”

“No, I didn’t know that,” Breanna said.

“Oh, yes, Pamela had the Kimball Hotel account back in the day, and many others.” “She helped your grandmother with Dalton House, in fact.”

“It’s certainly beautiful.” Glancing over at a smirking Sinjin, he winked.

“What do you say, Ian?” Ted poured himself another shot and downed it. “Let’s get this done so I can go to bed. At the rate this shit’s piling up, we’re gonna have to do it again come morning.”

“All right, old man.” Getting up from the sofa, Sinjin kissed her cheek. “We won’t be too long.”

Her fingertips brushing the skin he just kissed, Breanna watched him go.

“He’s a liar, you know.” The corner of her mouth quirking up, Francie topped their coffee with some whiskey. “They’ll be out there a few hours, at least. Are you doing okay, dear? Any more headaches?”

“None, lately.” Putting on a polite smile, Breanna took a sip of the potent brew. “I’m fine, thanks.”

“That’s good. Jordy was asking.” She was quiet for a moment, her lips pursing back and forth. “You and Ian seem to be getting on rather well.”

Heat rushed to Breanna’s cheeks, and it wasn’t because of the whiskey.

“I’m not blind, dear.” Francie adjusted her horn-rimmed frames. “I love both of my nephews, but I have to say you and Ian are far better suited.”

That’s a no-brainer.

“Is that why you gave me the room next to his?”

“Maybe.” She shrugged, wearing a grin. “And your grandmother would’ve approved wholeheartedly.”

“She and Sin…Ian were close, weren’t they?”

“They were.” Francie smiled. “She adored him and he always looked out for her, especially after my brother Raymond passed.”

Nodding, Breanna chewed the corner of her lip. “All of you are more connected to her and this house than I am.”

Lying in bed, Hera sharing the warmth of the fire with her, Breanna stared into the flames. Sinjin wasn’t back yet, and without his steadfast presence, her mind wandered to places she’d rather not go. Thinking about all this fucked-up craziness made her head hurt.

Like now.

She looked away from the fire and hugged her pillow, closing her eyes while she waited for Sinjin to come back and the Motrin to kick in.

Then the mattress dipped beside her.

Smooth lips kissed her shoulder.

Warm breath fanned her skin.

“I didn’t want to wake you, so I let myself in. Is that okay?”

“It’s more than okay.” Breanna rolled over and palmed his cheek. “I missed you.”

His fingers threaded into her hair and he gripped her nape, bringing her mouth to his. And with Sinjin’s powerful arms to shelter in, everything felt all right again.

“I was hoping Derek wasn’t coming back.” Snuggled against his chest, Breanna rubbed his skin. “Wishful thinking, I know.”

“It’s going to be okay, princess,” he said, strumming his thumb over her nipple. “Tomorrow, we’re going to call your mom.”

She lifted her head. “I don’t want to.”

“Your mom deserves to know where you are and that you’re okay.” He raised his hand to her hair, running his fingers through it. “And she might know something that can help us.”

What the hell?

“They did manage your trust fund together.”

“What does Derek want this mountain for?”

“Besides the obvious?” Laying her head back down on his chest, Sinjin returned to his strumming. “His father.”

“His father?”

“Yeah, and he’s got it in his head that there’s more gold to be had here.” He kissed her crown. “That’s how George Dalton made the family fortune, you know.”

“Is there?” Breanna bent her neck to glance up at him.

“I don’t think so, but it’s possible, I suppose.” Sinjin snickered. “They found some near Yosemite not too long ago.”

“Gold.” She sighed. “Imagine that.”

He rolled over on top of her, caging her beneath him. “I don’t give a shit about gold.”

“No?”

Greedily sucking her nipple into his mouth, Sinjin bit down on it.

“Fuck, baby, that feels good.”

“You’re who I care about, princess” He soothed the sting with his tongue. “I’ve got plans for us.”

“You do?”

Raising his head from her breast, whiskey bored into blue. “I do.”

“You make me feel…” God, so many things. “…safe, secure, wanted.”

“That’s how I always want you to feel, baby.” And he touched his lips to hers. “Because you are.”