Chapter Three
Every cell of her body warmed at his kiss. Reality blurred around the edges, allowing fantasy to reign as her mouth opened to his. He tasted as fresh as water, smelled as clean as soap and kissed with a controlled passion she’d never imagined possible. He tunneled a hand through her hair, his fingers massaging her scalp while he deepened the connection.
A deafening peal of thunder cracked and roared as if the house were coming apart around them. Jaime pushed against the hard planes of Xavier’s chest, wanting to get away both from him and the window. Situations like this, men like him, didn’t happen to her. The whole thing made her head spin faster than a pitcher of margaritas.
“I think that’s enough excitement for one day.” She forced a smile to hide her nerves. She’d just shared an amazing kiss with a man she’d known for half a day. A man she’d be spending the night with. A man who might kiss-and-tell to her future brother-in-law.
Oh, this could get awkward.
Lightning flashed, illuminating the sharp lines of his face. His grin seemed to mock her best intentions. She wanted more of the excitement he could offer, but she needed to keep things level with him to make it home and through the wedding without any embarrassment.
This heart-pounding reaction was nothing more than the restlessness of the house coupled with the shock of finding her car stolen yesterday and last month’s relationship fizzle. She must be rebounding higher than a rubber ball. Thank God for the thunder, or she might have done something, if not regrettable, at least not mentionable in polite company.
“Let’s go see about dinner. I’m starving.”
He shook his head as if he couldn’t believe how fast she changed gears, but didn’t try to argue. Instead, he moved his bag to the large bed on the far side of the main room.
They’d certainly stayed authentic with the decor. Four wooden chairs standing around a simple table were the only other furniture. Not exactly made for comfort. Not that it mattered. They’d be out of here first thing in the morning so they’d have time for his detours. They needed to make it all the way to Chicago to get back on schedule.
…
Jaime stared into the darkness and pulled the quilt tighter around her body, trying to keep from shivering. Her hands kept shaking. It had to be cold enough to frost in the small room. No small feat, considering it was the middle of summer and had to be eighty outside. Stone structures like the hotel were known for holding heat, not trying to turn people into icicles.
She clenched her jaw, attempting to tough it out. She wished she’d packed pajama pants so there was more than a tank top and panties to keep her warm.
Cold air whispered across her cheek. If she weren’t so uncomfortable, she might think this was a bad dream caused by all the ghost stories the wait staff and locals had shared with them at dinner, or the spinning wheel in the corner of the dining room that had started spinning of its own volition. Or maybe they’d forgotten to mention at the front desk that her room doubled as a meat locker.
Her body shuddered as she stared into the opaque blackness. The cutting chill crept deep into her bones, her lungs prickling with each icy breath. Xavier was probably in the same misery, toughing it out so she could get some rest. No point in them both suffering in this freezer.
Wrapping the quilt around herself, she sat and set her feet on the floor. She recoiled involuntarily. The ground would be warmer beneath a snowdrift.
She’d have to run for it. Jaime hurtled herself through the doorway separating the rooms. A shaft of moonlight lit the room and a wave of heat nearly knocked her over as she neared Xavier’s bed. His room was as hot as hers was cold. So warm nothing covered him as he slept on his stomach. Nothing at all.
Decorum went by the wayside as she tried to avoid frostbite. It might not be right to climb in bed with a naked man you barely knew, but it wasn’t right that he got to sleep at the equator while she was relegated above the Arctic Circle.
Her joints stiffened as she slid beneath the quilt he’d thrown off, her skin tingling at the shock. She pulled the covers tighter, breathing in the warm air laced with the intoxicating scent of sleeping male. If she weren’t trying not to freeze to death, it would be tempting.
“Am I dreaming?” Xavier asked in French, his voice thick with sleep.
“I’m freezing,” she managed through chattering teeth. This wasn’t her idea of a dream featuring Xavier Moreau. Embarrassing nightmare, maybe.
He rolled toward her and she slammed her eyelids closed. She did not want to catch a peek at anything she’d have to block from her mind later. Still, she sensed his hand nearing her. She started when the heat of his fingers seared her cheek.
“Why are you so frigid?”
The giggle bubbled up without warning. Some things just did not translate well. Her eyes fluttered open, taking in his confused expression.
“Ce qui est drôle?” He’d reverted to French again.
“Nothing is funny.” She turned into his hand, his touch steaming the otherworldly cold away.
He cleared his throat, blinking away sleep as he propped up on an elbow. “Then why did you laugh?”
“Pick a language.” She smiled, trying for a distraction as she pulled the covers tighter in an effort to warm the rest of her.
He blinked again, starting to actually look awake. “What happened?”
“My room kept getting colder and colder. I figured yours must be the same way, so I came in here so we could leave. But your bed is so warm.”
“Your room is cold?” He got up, the full moon spotlighting an amazing view of the smooth muscles of his broad back and lean contours of his bare behind. Darkness shrouded the rest of him as he crossed the room.
With a deep breath, she pulled the warm air into her body, her brain starting to spin again. The hotel probably rigged some kind of cooling system to the room to ensure guests would have stories to pass on to other tourists looking for a ghost sighting. Still, she wasn’t about to pass the night in there.
She was still so cold her fingers ached, which meant getting out of his bed was not an option. She’d have to try and fall asleep here, except she was nearly naked, and he was completely au natural. A surge of heat passed through her, and then she swallowed a laugh.
Typical. She’d fallen into a fantasy of spending the night in bed with a naked, gorgeous Frenchman and she had to worry about frostbite.
Sure he’d kissed her, so thoroughly she understood why his country got credit for inventing the kiss, but that didn’t matter now. She was, for lack of a better translation, frigid.
Hearing footsteps on the hardwood floor, Jaime wanted to close her eyes so as not to be tempted by Xavier’s masculinity, but she was still more spooked than she cared to admit. The bed dipped beside her and the back of his warm hand pressed against her forehead.
“You’re still cold.” He pulled at the quilt covering her, and she pulled back.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Her tone veered into a sharp upper register.
“Warming you up.”
She shook her head, each muscle aching at the movement. “Not that way.”
“J’aime, don’t be ridiculous. You are freezing.” He tugged at the quilt again. Her numb fingers were no match for his determination.
She shuddered when he slid in beside her, but not from the cold. Every one of her nerves were wired, sparking as his hands worked over her body. She basked in the sizzling sensations his fingers provided. The tension lessened while she eased back up to temperature, her body both relaxing into the warmth he offered and taut with anticipation.
Concern softened the angles of his face, his warmth seeping into her every place their skin touched. A thick, muscular leg pressed between hers. To his credit, he didn’t even flinch when she pressed her icy feet against his firm calf. It had to be torture for him, but it was absolute pleasure for her.
“You’ll never complain about cold feet in bed again after this.” She spoke to break the spell silence was having on her libido. The devil on her shoulder taunted that there was a much faster way to stop feeling so cold.
“This is a first.” His touch drifted lower on her back, below the protective cover of her tank top. “Why did you wait so long to tell me? You could have caught, what’s the word for gelure?”
That word wasn’t in any French textbook she’d ever used. “Hypothermia?”
“No, not hypothermie. When the fingers get stiff.”
“I think you mean frostbite.” She tucked her head into the crook of his neck, his scent clouding her mind like an opiate. “I’m surprised you didn’t freeze in there.”
He cleared his throat and rolled her over with the ease of a rag doll, pressing his chest to her back. If it didn’t feel so good, she might have objected to the way his hands pressed at her hips.
“If you’d stayed longer in that room, you’d be as cold as I am.” She turned her head to watch his intent expression, wondering if the sensuality of the moment were only in her head.
“You’re not so cold anymore.” His arms snaked around her waist, pulling her firmly against him, against the proof of just how hot she could be.
Soft lips brushed against her cheek, and they warmed in a flush of anticipation. He raised his head slightly, just enough for her to flicker a gaze at the smooth, voluptuous lips she wanted to feel anywhere he was willing to put them. A wolfish grin played on his face, moonlight twinkling in his eyes as he leaned toward her for more.
Yes, kissing a naked almost-stranger in his bed while wearing next to nothing wasn’t the smartest thing she’d ever done, but it simply couldn’t be helped. His mouth pressed to hers and her mind spun, her body responding on instinct. Her lips parted, her apprehension escaping as he held her tight.
Still chilled, the warm moisture of his kiss began to heat her from the inside out. Each pass of his mouth was harder, more insistent, more addictive. His hands began to explore, one reaching for her panties while the other slid to cup her breast.
The sheer force of her yearning to indulge in the moment freed the bonds of innate shyness. She never did anything without a plan, but there was a build-up of energy in the room, something static and intangible that needed to be released.
Without breaking the kiss, she turned toward him, wanting the feel of his body beneath her hands. Flattening her palms against his defined chest, she realized they were almost the same temperature. Like magic, he’d brought her in from the cold, showing her the kind of pleasure she’d only read about.
The man gave an entirely new definition to kissing. His lips sent desire burning through her veins, stoking the fire smoldering deep in her belly. Almost in a trance, she couldn’t think, couldn’t rationalize, couldn’t do anything but feel the reality of the man after the unbelievable happenings of the night.
He moved with a languid confidence, as if he knew she’d wait forever for his next touch. His hands splayed across her back, stroking the length of her spine, massaging the last vestiges of cold from her muscles. It felt amazing, but she didn’t want to wait. Waiting might lead to thinking.
She writhed against him, moaning softly as her thigh brushed against the evidence he was as ready to come apart as she was. With a groan, he rolled her to her back. His hands formed to her breasts, pushing her tank top up in the process. She made short work of the unnecessary garment, tossing it aside.
Hot breath caressed her already tight nipples and they puckered, impatient for more. He grazed one tight bud with his stubbled cheek. Her skin was so sensitive she felt every prickle.
Sultry heat from his mouth soothed the scratchiness. Each skilled working of his lips and tongue on her breasts sent a desperate throb between her thighs. She squirmed beneath him, wanting to relieve the tension growing so tight she felt she might snap from the overwhelming need.
A fever of lust passed between them as one of his hands slid down her soft stomach and over the cotton of her panties. She lifted her hips to encourage him and he cupped her through the material, one finger sliding beneath the elastic and against her slick center.
His fingertip pressed alongside her clit, intensifying the ache in that tiny button of pleasure. She arched her back, hoping to slant his touch in the direction she needed. Instead, he drew lazy circles around the nub while circling a nipple with his tongue. A hurricane of sensation whirled through her, too much to demand more, but not enough for the release she craved.
Raindrops began to splatter against the windowpane and lightning flickered, briefly illuminating their illicit poses. Like flashbulbs going off, pictures cemented themselves in her mind. The circle of his attentions tightened, as did her anticipation of what was to come.
Her heart thundered at the passionate storm brewing both inside and out. His pace quickened, fluttering almost as the sensations hammered through her body. Her legs began to quake, her breath coming out in quick pants. Her mind loosened its ties on reality.
A frenzied explosion of exquisite sensations sparked inside her body at the blinding, pulsing moment of release. She came with a soul-shattering intensity that burst with ecstasy and burned her to a cinder. She gasped at the uncontrollable shuddering spasms of her body.
Xavier climbed higher in the bed, taking her in his arms as the pleasure seeped deeper and deeper into her soul. She relaxed farther into the safety of his body, soaking up the energy radiating from him.