Honey hugged True’s waist and snuggled up as close to his back as she could while he expertly steered the snowmobile over deep drifts. They followed a wide indention in the thick white blanket that she figured was the road. Sure, it was cold, but she loved any excuse to touch him. Even under the cold-weather gear she could feel the tensile strength in his hard, muscled frame.

He’d come for her at dusk, warning her to pack for the night in case the weather turned, and he couldn’t bring her back.

She appreciated that he hadn’t said outright, Plan to stay the night with me, because she already blushed every time his gaze landed on her.

When she’d opened the door, he’d eaten her up with his forest green gaze. Dressed casually in layers to ward off the nip in the air, she knew her curves were muted, but that didn’t stop him looking like he was imagining her naked. She’d chosen a soft blue sweater, dark blue jeans, and those boots he disapproved of.

He’d waited patiently while she’d tugged snow pants over her legs and then held her coat while she bundled into it. She’d wound her scarf around her neck and tucked her hair into the hood of her coat, all while he’d waited—and watched.

She’d watched him too, liking the breadth of his shoulders under his clean insulated jacket, the length and thickness of his thighs below. Lord, she couldn’t be casual, couldn’t pretend to be cool, knowing she’d see every part of his body before the night was through.

The snow had stopped around mid-day, and even through the darkness the white drifts reflected moonlight. He didn’t really need the headlight on the vehicle to find his way. Fifteen minutes later, he pulled up beside the porch of a large log home, as rugged and immutable as its owners. He cut the engine and waited while she climbed off then swung his leg over, took her arm, and led her up the stairs.

She grinned because his touch was firm. No way was he going to let her fall on his steps. She imagined he had plans for her ass other than nursing bruises.

The door swung open before they reached the top step. Lonny’s wide smile eased her embarrassment over the fact she was arriving with his brother. The wicked glint in his eyes when he shook her hand told her he was thinking about where his hand had been yesterday, and she blushed.

How did they do that? It wasn’t like she hadn’t been around the block a time or two. Hell, she’d been married to a lusty man. And yet both brothers reduced her poise to breathless sighs and flushes.

“I checked on the chili,” Lonny said.

“Save us some?” True said, a hint of wry humor in his voice.

“There’s plenty left.” He leaned toward Honey. “The secret ingredient’s beer.”

Honey chuckled as True lifted a hand and chucked Lonny behind the head. She didn’t have any siblings but felt an instant envy for their obvious affection.

“Let me get your coat,” Lonny said, reaching for her zipper.

True cleared his throat and dropped the overnight bag she’d packed beside his feet. “Anyone does any unzipping it’s gonna be me.”

Honey and Lonny locked gazes then dissolved into laughter.

“I’m so glad you are two are enjoying yourselves,” True said, his tone dead even.

Honey wiped away a tear and tugged down her own zipper. When she slipped off the sleeves, she surrendered it to True, who hung it on a coat tree next to the door. He pulled off his own then bent to peel down his snow pants.

She was so hyper-aware of the slide of clothing that the act of shedding the cold-weather gear was a nearly erotic act. She was breathless by the time she straightened and handed everything over.

Her mind leapt straight to the bedroom, barreling forward to the moment they’d both shed the rest of what hid their skin from view. Something of what she was thinking must have been written on her face, because when she looked up, True’s eyes were smoky, his jaw set.

“Since I’ve had dinner, I’ll retire…with a good book,” Lonny said, giving her wink.

She barely heard him. Couldn’t take her eyes off True. She’d written this scene today—with the older brother taking the lead—easing Helen past her inhibitions until she’d moaned like a wanton.

“You hungry?”

She sucked in a deep breath, deciding that playing coy would be a complete waste of a perfectly good hard-on. The hard-on was impossible to ignore—long and thick and pressing against his pant leg.

“You’re starin’ again,” he growled.

“Can’t help it,” she said, feeling suddenly breathless.

“What are you thinking?”

“About choreography.” His snort sounded suspiciously like a laugh, but she wasn’t going to look to be sure.

“Choreography?” he murmured.

“Yeah, I think those pants have to come straight down. You’d never get enough room to work it out of the front.”

This time he did laugh, deep and rich.

Heat crept up her neck and flooded her cheeks. When she glanced up, her gaze slammed straight into his.

He held out his hand. She slid hers along his work-roughened palm and shivered because she knew she’d feel the scrape in a hundred delicious places.

He led her through the house to a staircase that curved up to the second floor. Their footsteps were hushed by thick beige carpeting.

He opened a door and flicked on a light, and then tugged her inside the room.

Once there, she spared a glance around his bedroom. A blue and white quilt covered a king-sized mattress. Heavy navy curtains covered the window. The furniture was dark maple—plain, but sturdy.

True tugged her hand, reeling her in like a fish on a hook.

Her head dipped toward her chest, because she felt suddenly shy, suddenly unsure. It had been so long, and she’d thought she was ready for this. But a shiver struck her spine, shuddering downward.

A hand cupped her cheek, and a thumb tucked beneath her chin to lift her face.

True’s expression was impossible to read. “I thought you wanted this.”

“I do.” She licked her lips. “Guess I’m a little nervous. This part’s always a little scary.”

“I scare you?”

She nodded. “It’s different for a girl,” she whispered. “We have to surrender, have to open up. I guess I’m feeling a little vulnerable.”

“Would it make you less nervous if I got naked first?”

That little hint of a smile turning up one corner of his mouth fascinated her. She gave in to a whim and came up on her toes to press her mouth against his. He didn’t try to embrace her, just held himself still while she pressed one kiss then another against his mouth.

His lips responded, softly molding hers, reassuring her silently that he would let her take the lead if she needed it.

She lowered herself again, pulled her hand from his, and then took a step back. Without glancing at him again, she unwound her scarf then lifted her sweater over her head and held out both to him.

His breath held as his gaze raked over her lacy white bra and the bare tops of her breasts. His fingers curled around her clothes.

She rested a hand on his arm and bent to tug off her silly boots, and then she went to work on her jeans, laying open the belt and unzipping her pants.

When she pushed them down and stepped out of them, she glanced up again, wanting to see his reaction. She hadn’t been naked with a man in three years. Kenny had thought her perfect, had told her a thousand times how beautiful she was, and she’d believed him. Standing in her white bikini panties and bra, she wanted to be beautiful and alluring.

Instead, she felt awkward. She wanted True to say something to break the silence that stretched because she felt foolish, thinking maybe she should have let him take the lead because, then, she wouldn’t be waiting for him to react. “I’m not on the pill,” she blurted.

“I’ve got it handled,” he said in his gruff tone.

Still, he didn’t move. She turned away and walked toward the bed, wanting to dive beneath the covers and hide, but his hand reached out and snagged her wrist. She froze while he stepped behind her and unhooked her bra. Then his long, callused fingers gripped her hips and rubbed downward, pushing her panties down her legs.

They fluttered to the floor, and she was nude. Standing with her back to a fully clothed man with an erection.

His hands settled on her shoulders. “What’s wrong, Honey?”

She shook her head. “I wish you’d do something.”

“Not until you tell me what you’re thinking. Your face closed up while you stripped. Like you were a hundred miles away.”

“It’s not you. I want to be here. I swear I do.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

She bent her head, unwilling to tell him, because she didn’t think it was any of his business. This was personal. More so than getting naked with the man. “I’m cold.”

He sighed. “Go get under the covers.” He released her hand.

She knew she’d disappointed him. She’d disappointed herself. Just minutes ago, she’d felt so carefree, so aroused.

However, a thousand miles hadn’t distanced her from her memories.

The rustle of clothing reassured her she hadn’t completely blown it. She lifted the quilt, pulled down the sheets and slipped into the bed, shivering because the crisp cotton was chilled.

Bare feet padded around the bed, and True entered her vision.

She sucked in a breath as she watched him remove his watch and set it on the nightstand. His chest was broad and lightly furred with dark brown hair that stretched between small brown nipples. His belly was taut, muscled, a study in shadow and light that tempted her fingers to explore the ridges defining his washboard abdomen.

Everywhere she looked was so masculine, so hard, that her fingers tensed, and her mouth grew dry.

But it was his cock that made her want to weep. Thick, long, and so aroused it lifted proudly from his groin—it reminded her of everything she’d lost. She missed sex, missed feeling a man thrust deep inside her body. Missed the heat, the gentle violence.

“You’re doing it again.”

His gruff tone coaxed a smile from her. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Killing the mood.”

He sat on the edge of the bed. “Does it look like I’m worried?”

“Nope.” She flipped back the covers, inviting him to lie beside her.

He eased into the bed, coming to his side, facing her, but not touching. “So, tell me.”

Honey drew in a breath, fortifying herself to say it. “I was married.”

He nodded but held silent.

She took another breath, but this time her chest didn’t feel quite so tight. “He was a school teacher but joined the Guard. Army Guard. His unit shipped to Iraq.”

True scooted closer and clasped the hand that lay between them. His thumb swept up and down the back of her hand, soothing her as she breathed deeply, trying to put to words the pain of her loss. She cleared her throat. “He died three years ago. Shot in an ambush. I usually spend my winters holed up at the beach house I bought with the insurance he took out. I couldn’t face it this year. Thought I needed to get away. It’s so different here. The air’s fresher. The cold…it’s nothing like home.”

He was quiet for a long moment, and then… “It sounds like you’re not over him, Honey. You sure this is what you want?”

She met his gaze, but tears caused her view of the hard edge of his jaw to waver. “I have to let go sometime. And I have. Mostly. I thought if I could stay busy, maybe I wouldn’t dwell on it. I felt so happy, moving in, meeting you and Lone… I felt ready.”

True let go of her hand and combed his fingers through her hair, pushing it behind her ear. “We don’t have to do anything.”

She sniffed and shook her head. “That’s not it. I want you. It’s just the getting naked part that freaked me out a little. I haven’t been with anyone else. And then Lonny kissed me, and I felt happy, horny again.” She wrinkled her nose, knowing she shouldn’t be talking about his brother when she lay next to him in bed, but hey, he’d wanted to know. “He made me laugh, made me forget about how awkward it can be.”

True’s brows lowered. “I made it awkward?”

She swallowed hard, recognizing that something about his quiet intensity was actually turning her on. In fact, every spike in her arousal appeared to be directly linked to his increasing tension. “It’s awkward only because I’m realizing how badly I want this to be good.”

“Are you sure you should be in bed with me?” he rasped.

Honey quivered at the raw sound. “I’m attracted to you both. I’ve already admitted that. Can’t stop thinking about some really naughty things, but I need you, True. I need you to be the first. And I know how that sounds. But I can’t help what I feel, what I need.”

He nodded, but his expression didn’t close up, didn’t look disapproving. He moved closer, pulling her flush against his body. His cock was there between them, hard and pulsing. She tilted her hips to rub her belly against it.

A muscle flexed at the edge of his jaw; his nostrils flared. “I’ll tell you what, sweetheart,” he whispered. “I’ll be your first. And then we’ll talk about what’s next. I thought I was the only one with issues. Makes me feel like a selfish bastard that I got so wound up about you choosing me. I had a wife, but she’s still alive and kicking. Married to someone she likes a whole lot better than me.”

She gave him a weak smile. “I can’t believe that.”

His mouth curved. “I’m not the easiest person to live with.”

Her smile widened. “Imagine that. Did you bark at her, too?”

“Never.” His smile dimmed. “But then again, I didn’t talk to her much either. She hated the silences, hated being alone when I was out working cattle. What was his name?”

She didn’t have any trouble following his segue. “Kenny.”

“What did he think about what you do?”

“Are you kidding?” Her smile didn’t dim, but his face shimmered in the tears welling in her eyes again. “He was my biggest fan.”

The tears did it. He couldn’t be jealous of a dead man, but the fact she cried over him, the fact she’d really loved him, made him ache. For her.

He reached out slowly, slid a hand around her waist, and pulled her closer. When her head settled on his arm, he breathed easier, taking in the sensations—the scent of her hair and skin, the softness of her cheek on his arm, her tightening breasts against his chest. Yeah, he was hard, but he could stand the discomfort. It was her sadness that nearly killed him.

She sighed and snuggled closer, easing her thigh higher over his hip. Her hand made a tentative glide over his belly then stopped—liked she’d realized what she’d done. Her breath held for a long moment.

And he couldn’t help it. He swore silently to himself, because his cock surged, nudging the back of her hand.

He held his breath, counting, wanting to be strong, willing his body back under control, but she turned her hand and glided her fingers down his shaft. It was just a light skim of her fingertips, but it was enough to make his pulse leap.

Her hips moved, surging against him. “True,” she whispered.

He kissed her forehead. “Baby, be sure.”

“I am. I swear. Please.”

He cupped her cheek then curled his fingers under her chin. He slid his lips along her skin as he tilted her face higher. When his mouth touched hers, she sighed and melted closer.

Slowly, he moved away, just far enough to give them both room to look. He stared down between them, at her hard, cherry nipples, at her soft belly that quivered against his rock-hard cock.

Honey raised her thigh, setting her foot against his leg, opening herself. She watched him just as avidly as he smoothed a palm over her hip, rubbing her thigh to knee, then slid to her inner thigh and trailed his fingers upward to search between her legs.

She was wet, her sex steamy. He thrust two fingers into her and watched her eyelids dip, her nostrils flare.

He dragged in the steamy scent of her and swirled his fingers inside her.

“True,” she groaned.

He thrust deeper, rubbing the pad of his thumb over her clit, relieved to discover it was hard.

“True,” she said, her voice higher, more urgent.

He kissed her forehead again, smiling softly to himself. “What, baby?”

She nuzzled his cheek then whispered in his ear, “Got a condom?”

He pulled his fingers free and rolled to his back, stretching to reach the drawer of the nightstand. He pulled it open and fished for a packet, cursing when the drawer slid farther out and tilted downward. But his fingers closed around a small square just before the drawer crashed to the floor.

He came back to her, bit the foil, and ripped it open. “I need two hands.”

“Let me?”

He gritted his teeth, wanting to cloak himself, because her hands were shaking, and her fingers were cold. He gritted his teeth and waited, watching while she plucked the center of the circle to stretch the tip, then placed it over the head and began to slowly roll it down his length.

Either she wasn’t very skilled, or she was nervous. She only rolled it halfway down his shaft.

“Been a while,” she said, then bit her lip.

“You’re doing fine.”

Her fingers were too tentative and the latex stubborn.

Finally, he pushed away her hands and gripped himself, gliding the condom downward until he was sure it wouldn’t come off when he began stroking her. Then he rolled and came over her.

Her breaths gusted in shallow huffs. Her hands gripped his shoulders.

He nudged her apart with his knees but rested on his elbows, so he wouldn’t overwhelm her with his weight. “Put me inside you.”

She fisted him. This time her fingers closed tighter around his shaft. On his knees, he reared back a little, gave her room to position him, then he flexed his hips and thighs, pushing forward and finding her center. He thrust slowly inside.

Her hand drew away, slid over his side, scooped at his lower back then traveled lower. Her fingernails scraped over his ass and dug into his flesh. “True…”

“Yes, sweetheart.” He pulled back, leaving just the crown inside her.

Her head tilted, digging into the mattress. “Fuck me,” she said, her voice deepening. “God, I ache for you. Please, don’t tease. Don’t be gentle.”

Pulsing forward once, he bent to rub her lips with his. “You sure you’re ready?”

Her nails dug in harder, her head rolled side-to-side, her hips surged upward, trying to capture him as he pulled away again. “Bastard, just do it.”

He almost smiled, but his desperation made it a grimace. He sank, sliding deeper and deeper, and then hooking at the end to force her hips to move with his. When he was as far as he could go, he ground hard, moving side-to-side, stretching her, drilling—needing to be as deep as he could go, wanting to force her to recognize how well he filled her—giving in to the primitive, primal urge to imprint her with his masculinity.

Honey didn’t seem to mind. Her body shivered against his, her hips bucking. Her thighs crept around his waist and held tight, giving him a glimpse of her own possessive urges. She pressed her lips against his shoulder then bit him there. “Move, please,” she groaned. “I need you to move.”

He came up on his arms, peering down at her, his gaze raking her spiked breasts, her undulating belly, then staring down at where their bodies joined. He eased from her, watching his cock, reddened and glazed, pulling from her lips, before stroking inward again, screwing her slowly.

Honey’s features tightened, her cheeks reddened, her breaths became jagged. “Talk to me,” she gasped.

True shook his head. “What?”

“Talk to me. You’re staring, but what do you see?”

“Beautiful. Baby, let me talk…after.”

“I need you to talk…to help me relax. I’m hot…hurting, even…want to come, but I’m too tense.”

“Not a good time.” He bent and skimmed his mouth along her jaw, but she turned away, and her fingers curved around his shoulders, holding him back.

True drew a deep, ragged breath. He leaned his head on her shoulder. “This something he did?”

“Yes.”

“I’m not him.”

“I know that. But I’m…” She drew her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Are you scared?” he whispered.

“A little. I want this so much, but I can’t just let it happen.”

He drove into her again, but her legs weren’t squeezing around him now. She wasn’t lowering them, but she wasn’t participating anymore. “Dammit.”

“You say that a lot.”

He grunted and slowed his motions, trying to gather back the frayed edges of his control. If she needed him to comfort her, he’d give her that. However hard it was for him to do this. He wasn’t used to talking during sex. Didn’t quite know how to start. “I’m not an easy man.”

“I think that’s one of the first things I noticed about you,” she said breathily. “The fact you weren’t easy. I thought you didn’t like me much.”

“I didn’t not like you,” he said, gritting his teeth as he inched in and out. “I just didn’t want you on my mountain.”

“Because I’m a girl.”

“Yeah. It wasn’t anything personal.”

“Do you still feel the same?”

He grimaced. He wasn’t going to lie, no matter how much it pissed her off. “Guess I do. It’s a hard place in winter.”

“And yet, you’re fucking me.”

True snorted and ground into her. “I’m a man.”

“And I’m available.”

He pulled out and thrust in again, this time a little harder. “It’s not like that.”

Honey’s lips thinned. “Yeah, maybe we shouldn’t talk.”

He frowned. “You promised you wouldn’t get bent out of shape.”

“I wanted something I’ve been missing, something you can’t give me. Obviously. Let’s just fuck. That’s all you want anyway.”

“Dammit.”

Her smile didn’t hold an ounce of humor.

Feeling as though he’d failed a test, he pumped harder inside her. “Yeah, maybe we shouldn’t talk too much. We can’t manage to do that without having an argument.” He’d bet she’d never had that problem with her paragon of a husband, but as soon as he thought it, he felt guilty. The man was dead. She’d loved him.

He was jealous of a dead man. True pulled free and pushed her legs off his hips. “Turn.”

Her eyes widened, but she did as he said, turning slowly onto her belly then coming up on her knees in front of him.

This view of her body took his breath away, made him so hard he could barely squeeze a breath from his lungs. Round, peach-shaped ass, soaked, reddened labia. Her slender back quivered.

True tucked his fingers into her pussy, coaxing more of her natural lubricant from inside her then removed them. Fisting his cock, he fed it into her cunt, pushing deep. Finally, clasping her hips, he rocked forward and back, faster and faster.

When her head dropped between her shoulders, he reached around her and swirled his fingers on her clit, circling relentlessly while he hammered her.

Her back arched, her bottom thrust against him, backing up to take him deeper. He had it right now. He could give her this even if he couldn’t give her anything else of what she seemed to need from a man.

When her pussy clamped hard around him and she mewled like a kitten, he clutched her hips again and hammered faster, harder, not relenting until she gave a muffled scream.

True said his own hallelujahs in silence and pumped twice more before emptying himself inside her. He rocked in and out, milking every last sweet convulsion until she’d wrung him dry. Then he pulled free, settled on his side and dragged her into his arms.

He might not be the man she wanted, but he was the one holding her now.