Chapter Eleven

Victoria

Thank goodness Clay wasn’t mad about the snowball and that he’d only joked about not sharing the salmon. That was all Victoria could think when she smelled the aroma of the fish cooking in the pan.

While Clay worked at the stove, Victoria made corn bread muffins, instant mashed potatoes and canned green beans. They sat at the candle lit table and ate. Clay gave Charlie some of the cooked fish and Ross snuck him a corn bread muffin.

Everyone declared it the best meal they’d ever tasted.

After dinner, they played a board game. It was Ross’s turn to pick and he chose Clue, probably because he thought it was Clay’s favorite game. While Sydney liked to sass Clay every chance she got, these days Ross regarded the man with a sentiment bordering on hero-worship.

The day had worn the children out and both were yawning as the game wound down. Unlike Sydney and Ross, Clay seemed to be more energetic. Restless. After the game, he’d ushered the children to bed, telling them they weren’t reading tonight, so no candle. Even Sydney was too tired to argue.

Victoria heard his footsteps as she put the game away. “Do we need to add more wood to the fire?”

When he didn’t reply, she looked up to see him bearing down on her, his eyes lit with a feral light, his mouth curved into a sexy smile. She gave a breathless laugh and knew in a single instant that he was coming for payback. She tried to dart away, but in two more steps he was upon her.

Without breaking stride, he lifted her and swung her over his shoulder. She cried out in surprise and clamped a hand over her mouth. Clay might be acting like a barbarian, but she didn’t want to frighten the children. With her other hand, she pounded him on the back.

“You and I have some business to discuss,” he growled.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He strode down the hallway to their room. “Besides, it’s bedtime. Everyone had a long day.”

He set her down and shut the door behind them. The room was dark with only a faint glow of moonlight coming through the window.

She set her hand on his chest. “You do not have proof that it was me who threw the snowball.”

Clasping her hips, he backed her to the bed. “Who needs proof? In a few minutes, I’ll have your full confession.”

His words sounded vaguely threatening but instead of fighting off panic, she fought off the desire to slip her hands under his shirt and trace her fingers along the muscles spanning his shoulders. He wanted a confession? She had a number of wicked things to confess, all them far worse than a well-aimed snowball.

They’d been together for a matter of weeks, yet the close quarters of the cabin made her feel as though they’d been together for a lot longer. She knew his gestures, his moods, the way his tone changed, depending on whom he spoke with. Last night she’d had the first taste of his touch and she wanted more.

He lay her back on the bed and tugged his shirt over his head. Crouching over her, he threaded his fingers in hers and pressed them beside her head. Lowering, he brushed his lips over hers. When he spoke, he held himself a whisper’s breadth from her mouth. “I’m going to kiss you, Victoria, and if you think you can get away, you’re wrong.”

She loved the possessiveness in his voice. “I’m not trying to get away from you.”

“Good.”

“It’s just that I’ve never done this before.”

“That’s fine.”

“I never date, and if I do, it’s not more than once.”

“I don’t want to know about your boyfriends. I’m your boyfriend now.”

She laughed softly. “Don’t I have to agree to that?”

A deep, hungry sound rumbled from his throat as he kissed her. “You will.”

His kiss was a gentle pressure for one moment, then immediately turned fierce and heated. With a stroke of his tongue at the seam of her lips he had her parting her lips and submitting to him. He growled his approval.

Deep in her core she grew heated, slick. Her breasts ached. She wanted to tear her hands free so she could touch him. He broke the kiss and moved to her jaw and then to her neck. He kissed the tender skin along the side of her neck. When he reached the curve, he nipped her gently.

The scruff of his short beard burned her skin, but that just added to her need. Beneath him, she writhed. When she tried to tug her hands free, he chuckled.

“If I let you go, are you going to make a run for it?”

“No. I promise. But…”

“But what?” he demanded.

“I’m not on the pill,” she said softly.

He chuckled. “Good. Let’s make a baby.”

She jerked in his arms, but he tightened his hold, pinning her to the bed. Her heart thudded frantically against her ribs. A baby? That might be impossible. Was that what he wanted? They’d barely kissed and he was talking children.

“I don’t even know if I can have children. I’ve got issues with my body…”

“It’s okay, Victoria,” he soothed. “Let’s just play a little. Don’t run away from me.”

He released her and she wrapped one arm around his shoulder and threaded her other hand through his hair, pressing him against her neck. She didn’t want to escape him. She wanted more of his touch and almost without realizing, she arched beneath him, wanting his hands everywhere on her body. She needed him to ease the ache running along her hips and tightening her breasts.

The rough calluses of his palm made her shiver as he ran his hand under her shirt. Tugging the shirt up, he stripped it off her. An instant later, he slid her bra from her shoulders.

“Victoria,” he said softly, “you’re so beautiful it hurts.”

The warmth of his hands sent a cascade of pleasure across her skin. He trailed kisses down her chest and to the tip of her breast, sucking the nipple between his lips. When he stroked her with his tongue she drew a long, shuddering breath. His hot mouth on her tight nipple shocked her. And aroused her, churning her thoughts. Making her mindless.

He cupped and teased her other breast. Her breath came in fast pulses. She squirmed beneath him. Heat burned between her legs and when his hand drifted down her stomach, stopping at her waist, she offered no argument. She only wanted more.

When he tugged her boots and jeans off, she lay beneath him, wearing no more than a pair of lacy panties. In the shadowed light, she couldn’t make out his features, but his tense, powerful body, silhouetted against the window, made her tremble with desire.

Leaning down, he nuzzled her neck and traced his fingers along the lace trim of her panties. ‘You smell like lemons and flowers and everything I want.”

Slowly, he moved his hand beneath the waistband and dipped his finger between her legs.

“We don’t need to fuck tonight. But soon. Damn, you’re wet, sweetheart.”

He lifted his fingers to his mouth and sucked his fingers. “Honey,” he whispered.

The movement of him sucking his finger was so filthy. She loved it, but she wanted him to touch her again. A moment later, he was back, stroking her and kissing her, his tongue keeping time with his caress. His kiss, his touch, every bit of it was indecent. The abrasion of his jaw added to the riot of sensations.

Never before had she existed in such a physical state, hovering between desire and ecstasy. His kiss was hot, silken abandon, coaxing her toward a molten climax, until finally she arched off the bed and cried out. He took her sounds with his kiss. She sank back, melting into the blankets and he scattered kisses along her jaw and down her neck.

“So beautiful, Victoria.”

The wind blew outside. It sounded like a storm was coming.

She rolled to her side. “Show me,” she whispered.

He began to protest, but she put a finger over his lip. “I want to know how to do that to you.”

“Unzip my pants,” he growled.

She did as she was told. Beneath the denim, she could feel his erection, impossibly hard and enormous. How would that even fit?

“Touch yourself,” he demanded. “I want your juices on me.”

She drew a sharp breath, but complied. Her slick arousal covered her fingers and she wrapped them around his cock. He hissed between his teeth, lying back on the bed and covering her hand with his. He moved her up and down his length and his breath grew ragged.

“Baby,” he groaned.

She marveled at how hard he was and yet how soft the skin felt. Like velvet. He was big and so thick that she couldn’t wrap her hand around his girth. As she rubbed his length, he seemed to get even bigger and harden even more until he came with a low snarl, a stream of cum shooting up to his neck.

She released his shaft and lay down, resting her head on his shoulder. They lay together in the growing chill and Victoria shivered, despite the warmth coming from his body. Clay rose from the bed and, after he cleaned up, left the bedroom. She heard him say a few words to Charlie and add firewood to the fire. Sparks hissed as he tossed logs atop the blaze. A moment later he returned to the bedroom.

“I need to get a nightshirt,” she whispered, rising from the bed.

“You need to get next to me.” He clasped her arm and tugged her closer, wrapping himself around her and pulling blankets over them. “We’re getting a blizzard tonight. A massive storm. You’re going to sleep right here, next to your man.”

“All I have on are panties.”

“Perfect...” he muttered. “I’ll keep you warm.”

She felt him draw a deep breath, tighten his hold on her and kiss the back of her head. Outside the wind blustered and began a low and steady howl out of the north. Against his massive frame she felt small. Dwarfed. The ferocious storm grew stronger. The wind howled around the cabin. As she drifted off to sleep, she rested her hand on his thickly muscled forearm and sighed contentedly. He kissed her shoulder and whispered words about her sweet dreams.