When I open my eyes, I’m curled up in Van’s bed, hugging his pillow to my chest. The man in question is nowhere in sight, but the scent of eggs and toast wafts in from downstairs. I smile to myself. Sex with Van was incredible, and he hadn’t been lying when he said he planned on making me come all night. I stretch out my aching muscles. I’m sore everywhere. I guess sleeping with a pro-athlete who happens to have a giant cock will do that to you. It takes me far too long to get out of bed and, I hobble a little as I walk to the bathroom. When I’m done freshening up, I throw on his Crushers hoodie and slowly pad downstairs, taking them one at a time because . . . ouch. Van is in the kitchen dressed in a pair of sweats, and nothing else. I wrap myself around him from behind and rest my head against his broad back. He stills for a second and then runs his hands up and down my arms.
“There’s my snuggle bunny,” he says, turning in my embrace. “How are you feeling?”
I groan. “I think you broke me.”
He chuckles. “I didn’t break you.”
“Oh, I’m pretty sure you did. I don’t think I’ll ever be having sex again. Every muscle in my body aches. Is it supposed to hurt this much?”
“When done right, yeah. You’ll get used to it.”
I stretch on tiptoes and place a kiss on his cheek, morning breath and all, and then because I’m embarrassed I didn’t brush my teeth before coming down here, I turn away. Van’s arm shoots out to stop me, almost knocking the hot pan from the stove, but he catches it just in time. Good reflexes.
“Where are you going?”
“I have morning breath.”
He dips his finger into a glass jar on the counter. It comes out sticky and covered in syrup. “Open up and say ah.”
“Oh my god, you’re an animal.” I open my mouth anyway, and he slides his finger in. I lick the sticky, sweet syrup from his skin, and then I hollow my cheeks and suck hard, releasing him with a pop.
He groans. “Fuck me.”
I chuckle. “Can we eat first? I’m starved.”
Van shakes his head and plates up eggs and toast. He adds a side of bacon for himself. I get to work on pouring coffee for us both. I need it after the sex marathon last night.
“No Sigi this morning?”
“Nope. I’m pretty sure we scared her away last night with all the screaming. She comes and goes as she pleases though, so I’m sure she’ll be back.” I decide I may have to do a lot more screaming in the near future to keep Van to myself.
I sit at the table opposite Van, and while we might be eating in silence, the mischievous glances and half-smiles say too much. When I’ve had my fill of breakfast, I climb onto the table and crawl across the space between us, knocking plates, cutlery, and empty coffee cups to the floor. Van looks surprised, but he catches on quickly and pushes his chair back as I climb into his lap. I kiss his mouth, and slide my sticky fingers into his hair. He tastes like syrup. Delicious. I slip my hand between our bodies and into the fabric of his waistband. I tease his hard cock with soft strokes of my fingertips over the crown, and he jerks against my hand. I grip the head and squeeze, and then I lift my hips and guide him inside. It hurts—my body is too tender from last night’s love-making, but I stay still and allow myself to adjust to his thickness. Van removes my oversized hoody and tosses it on the floor amongst the wreckage of our breakfast. He kisses my neck, my shoulder, and finally dips his head to my breasts. I’m done for. Heat surges within me as I rock my hips back and forth.
“Fuck, country,” Van groans. “I love the way you ride my cock.”
I close my lips over his because I can’t get enough of his taste. Nor can I get enough of the feel of him inside me. It’s so hot and hard, and surprisingly tender. This closeness, the warm wet slide of bodies? It’s incomparable to anything I’ve ever experienced. I search his gaze, silently hoping that he feels it too, and when he looks into my eyes I know that he’s right here with me. He’s not fucking Stella Hart, the country star. He’s not out to use me or sell our story to the tabloids, and we’re not anything more than Van and Stella. Just two people who happen to like each other, and who like getting naked together. A lot. And it’s so sweet it about breaks my heart.
Van’s hand grips my ass as he rocks us faster. His other hand squeezes my breast, pinching my nipple, and I throw my head back as the heat unfurls from the soles of my feet and floods my entire body, sparking my synapses and nerve endings all to life. “Van,” I moan.
“That’s it, baby. Come for me. Jesus, you’re so fucking tight.” He pants, as he picks up his pace and what started out as sweet gentle love-making becomes something more, something primal and aggressive, something beautiful and strange. It’s so surreal to be here with him like this, the man who saved my life, and who’s been saving me every second since. A man I’ve fallen hard for, though I know it’s too soon, too much, too fast. I can’t help it. It could just be the incredible sex, or the orgasm talking, but I’m addicted to him like a chain smoker craving her next cigarette. I keep breathing him in. I exhale, and just when I think I’ll be able to let him go, walk away and go back to my life in Tennessee, I find I need another hit.
I need to leave. I need to get away, but one look in his eyes and I come undone again. I don’t want to be anywhere else. I collapse against him, our bodies sweaty and spent. I tuck my head into the space beneath his neck and sigh as he traces his fingertips across my back, and I hope like hell I never have to leave.
A few hours later, we lie on the rug in front of the fireplace, naked from head to toe and wrapped up in one another. A blanket covers us both, and we doze in the pristine white light coming in through the huge floor-to-ceiling window. Snow patters against it, and I lie on Van’s chest and stare at the falling flakes as they stick to the glass before melting a moment later. I don’t want to move. Ever.
Van Ross is everything I never knew I wanted. Strong, funny, surprisingly sweet, and fantastic in bed. I never saw myself dressing in white—the very thought is insane, and likely the result of too many orgasms—but as I lie here, my body stretched out on top of his, my ear pressed against his chest and listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat, I can see happily-ever-after. With my head full of impossible dreams, I drift into sleep as softly as the snow falls outside.
I’m woken a little later by what sounds like a slamming car door, and boots trudging up the stairs. Panic seizes me, and I shake his shoulder. “Oh my god, Van, wake up.”
“Eh?”
“There’s someone here.”
“Go back to sleep, babe.”
Just then, a woman’s voice filters in from the front door, and before I can do anything more than cast my gaze around for my clothes, Emmett and a blonde, elegant woman, most likely in her fifties, are bearing down on us. She covers her mouth. “Oh, my.”
Van shoots up into a sitting position, too fast. The blanket shifts, exposing me to the room and I grab a nearby cushion to cover my naked chest. Van doesn’t seem to notice my distress. He’s too busy rubbing his shoulder. “Ah!”
“Van, what the fuck, dude?” Emmett says.
“Oh, honey, I am so sorry. I didn’t know you had a guest.”
“And I didn’t know you were coming over until this afternoon, Mom,” Van says.
“It is the afternoon, darling.”
“Hi,” I say sheepishly. I cover myself with more of the small blanket.
“Hello,” Van’s mother says. Oh lord, she’s beaming. Van doesn’t seem the least bit concerned that we’re in a state of undress and simply rises to his feet, buck naked. He offers me a hand up and I take it, careful to keep the blanket wrapped tightly around all of my lady bits. He might be used to parading around a locker room as naked as the day he was born, but that’s not the Stella Hart way.
“Hi, I’m St—”
“Yes, I know who you are, dear.” The grin that she was so obviously fighting ekes across her face, and I want to die. How humiliating—being introduced to his mother in my birthday suit just a few hours after making love on every flat surface in his house. “I have every record you’ve ever made.”
“Oh, wow. That’s . . . um . . . thank you.”
“Been to every concert you’ve performed in the area, too. Emmett wasn’t the only fan in the family. I wasn’t aware Van was a fan, either. He usually doesn’t pay anything any mind, unless it’s hockey-related.”
“I see that.”
“Well, I suppose he’s a country music fan now, too.”
“Mom,” Van warns, but I smile. “Stella, this is my mum, Nora.”
“Van, be a dear and go and put some clothes on.”
“Yes, Mom.”
“We’ll just be in the kitchen. I’ll make lunch.”
“No!” Van and I say at the same time.
“It’s kind of a mess in there, Mom.”
“Oh, relax. It’s nothing your brother and I can’t handle.”
“Mom,” Emmett whines.
“Besides, I’m sure you two have worked up an appetite, and you can’t have country music royalty in your house and not feed her, Son. That’s just bad manners, and I raised you better than that.”
I smile awkwardly at Van’s mother before she leaves the room with Emmett dragging his heels behind her. I turn to Van and say in a whispered hiss, “You didn’t want to tell me your mother was coming?”
“I didn’t want you to freak out the way you are now.”
“Oh, because being completely naked is so much better?”
“You know you’re pretty cute when you’re mad, snuggle bunny.” Van smooths his hand over my cheek, and I beat him away.
“I am not cute. I’m a fierce lioness, and you are in big trouble, mister.”
He rolls his eyes and pulls me in for another kiss. I melt against him, and wrap my blanket around us both. His hands go under my ass, and he lifts me off the ground. I squeal, but he doesn’t set me down so I have no choice but to wrap my legs around him. The blanket falls away, and he goes streaking through the house with me wrapped around him like a spider monkey. He attempts to climb the stairs while his mother and brother pretend not to notice the shenanigans going on around them.
“Put me down,” I demand.
“Never,” he says, walking the long hall to his room, where he enters and shuts the door behind him with his foot. We collapse on the bed and he climbs on top of me, wedging himself between my thighs.
“Van, your mother is downstairs.”
“You should be quiet when you come then.”
“Van,” I say in protest, but his mouth is already on me, lashing my clit with his tongue and forcing me to lose my breath. I slide my hands into his hair and give myself over to the moment.
When we’re dressed and halfway presentable, I follow Van downstairs, hoping his mother didn’t hear any of the things her son and I were up to in his bedroom.
“Well, you best get your cute little hockey bum over here and give your mom a hug, Son. You too, Stella.”
“Oh, I . . .” I find myself engulfed in her arms whether I wanted to be or not. She holds on so tightly I can barely breathe, and yet the scent of her sweet perfume makes me miss my own mother so much that I find myself hanging on for longer than appropriate. When I pull away, there are unshed tears in my eyes. Van’s smile dims as he meets my gaze, but I turn away, heading for the fridge so I can give the room my back and make out as if I’m just grabbing a drink.
“Stella, would you be a dear and grab me the cheese from the fridge?”
“Ah, sure.” I clear my throat and fish the provolone out of the fridge, turning to hand it to her. Nora smiles. She doesn’t say anything about my watery eyes, and I’m thankful for it. “Can I, can I help you with lunch?”
“Oh sure. Why don’t you cut up those greens for me while Van goes and collects a nice white wine to have with it?”
“Mom,” he warns.
“Oh relax, would you? Stella understands that a mother has to interrogate any woman that comes into her son’s life, don’t you, dear?”
She does?
“Of course.” I say, a little too chipper. I get to work on chopping the asparagus and baby spinach while Nora makes light work of dicing several fresh tomatoes.
“Busted. You’re in for it now, Stella.” Emmett chuckles. He doesn’t bother looking up at us from his paper on the table.
“Go easy,” Van says, kissing his mother’s cheek. “I like this one.”
My heart practically does summersaults inside my chest, but the second he’s gone, she turns and gives me a look that says I should prepare for what comes next, and the floaty feelings are gone. “So, Stella, why on earth did you run away to Banff?”
“Ah, I—”
“She crashed her car. I told you that already, Mom,” Emmett says, surprising me. When she arrived, Nora had said she didn’t know Van had a guest. Mamma Ross was a big, fat liar.
“It’s true. I crashed into a snow drift. Van and Emmett saved me.”
“I did all the heavy lifting,” Emmett says.
“Emmett, are you calling me fat?” I tease. He cracks up, slapping his knee, and I laugh too, but then I remember Van’s mother is staring at me. My smile quickly disappears.
“And why were you driving up the mountain?”
“She was running away,” Emmett says.
“Emmett, hush now. I’m asking Stella.”
“But I already told you all this,” he protests. Busted.
“It’s fine, Emmett. I owe everyone answers; there’s no better place to start.” I release a deep breath. “I was running from a stadium full of people, ma’am.”
“But those people are your fans?”
“Yes, they are. I don’t have a good excuse to give you. I know I let everyone down. I just . . . I needed a break. I couldn’t step up on that stage another night and pretend I was okay.”
“Oh,” Nora says, and scrapes the diced tomatoes into the sizzling pan. “Are you okay now, in my son’s house?”
“I think I’m starting to be.”
“Can you see yourself being okay here in the future?” I know she’s hinting at more, and I pray she won’t say it. Not now, not after the last twenty-four hours of bliss. Not when I can feel Van’s eyes on me, and I know he’s standing behind me. He doesn’t say anything though, and I decide to hell with moving too fast. My life is fast—so is his, for that matter, and there are things we need to discuss. I open my mouth, but before I can get a word out, he chimes in, “Mom.”
“Go on, Stella.”
“Mom!” Van says again, and Nora sighs and turns to face him.
“I’m just asking a question, Son. You don’t have to get your undies in a wad.”
“Leave Stella alone, eh?”
Nora pouts. “You boys spoil all my fun. I’m just looking out for everyone.”
“I’m a big boy—we both are. We don’t need you looking out for us, Mom. We got this shit.”
“Well, maybe when you have children of your own someday, you’ll understand.” Van’s mother turns to me, the huge knife in her hand pointed at my stomach as if it didn’t have the ability to give me a hysterectomy on the spot. “Do you want children, Stella?”
Oh, boy.
“Mom!”
Thankfully, lunch isn’t as dramatic as Nora’s interrogation, and in the end, I find I enjoy her company. She’s sweet. It becomes apparent both Van and Emmett got their sense of humor from her, and I don’t mind one bit that she’s curious about my relationship with her son and is ultimately just looking out for him. I’m glad he has someone like that in his life.
We have coffee in front of the fire in the den, and when the sky outside begins to darken, Nora and Emmett get up to leave. She hugs me tight at the door. “We’ll see you next Sunday?”
“Oh, I’m not su—”
“She’ll be there,” Van says as he wraps his arm around my waist.
“Oh gross, Van. Why do you have to ruin it? Mom, Van’s touching Stella.”
Nora chuckles. “I have a feeling they’re about to do a lot more than touching, Em.”
Emmett screws up his nose and makes a gagging sound. “Gross.”
“Come on. Let’s leave them be.”
“Mom, it’s fine. Em can stay.”
“And interfere with what might be your only chance to give me grandchildren before I die? No, no. I’m going to take him shopping tomorrow. You kids have some fun, okay?”
My eyes grow round as saucers, and I won’t lie, I feel a teensy bit faint. Van is completely unfazed with his mother’s words, and he claps Emmett on the shoulder. “See you later, bud.”
Em shirks off his brother’s hand. “Whatever. You owe me, man.”
“I know. Hey, how about I get you an autograph from Stella?”
“Bite me,” he says and trudges across the porch through the snow.
“Put your jacket on first. You’ll freeze your little bum off,” Nora calls, shaking her head. “That boy. You get some rest. No strenuous activities, eh?”
“Bye, Mom.” Van leans in to kiss her cheek. When the door closes behind her and the car engine starts, Van looks at me, and I know I’m in trouble.
“No.” I take several steps back toward the den, but he follows too closely for me to get away and catches me in his arms. “Didn’t you hear your mother? She said no strenuous—”
My words are stolen by his mouth covering mine, and I moan into the kiss. We don’t even make it to the couch, but instead wind up sprawled on the slate tiles of the entryway, and Nora was right. We do a lot more than touching.