Kiss of Ice (St. James Family) Page 8

  “Look at me,” he said. She realized her eyes were closed and she opened them. She locked eyes with him as he thrust his cock back inside her. She bucked against him, unable to stop herself. He felt so good. He straightened her leg against his chest, kissing her ankle. Her heel rested against his shoulder. He ground against her, then pulled out, until only his head was inside her. “You're the only one,” he whispered. She felt her heart stop.

  Then he slammed into her again and again. The way they fit together was heavenly. She tangled her hands in the sheets as he fucked her so perfectly. Something shattered inside her, breaking into a million pieces. Her sight went blurry as she came with an intensity she'd never felt before. Her ears were ringing, and her toes pointed. She gripped him deep inside and he bucked into her. Her heartbeat drummed in her ear. She could feel him explode inside her. He called out, saying something that she didn't understand. Her ears were muffled. The darkness was enveloping her. She felt his fingers on her face, stroking her cheek. She felt his weight next to her. He pulled her against his warmth. She felt so safe in his arms. She let herself go and faded into black.

  ***

  Christophe held Annata close. His heartbeat returned to normal as her breathing slowed. He didn't want to let her go. How was every time with her better than the last? In the midst of his earth-shattering orgasm, he almost screwed everything up and shown his hand. Christ. She was quiet next to him. He wondered if she knew. He wondered if his eyes had given him away. He must look like a love-sick fool when he was around her. The anger he'd felt earlier that night had faded away, and now all he felt was the afterglow of the best orgasm of his life. He pulled the down comforter over her and tucked her in. He slipped off her shoes and set them on the carpet beside the bed. He unclasped her necklace and put it on the bedside table, along with her heavy earrings. Then he undressed and slipped back into the warm bed and kissed her until she was asleep.

  Time passed—he didn't know or care how how much. The sky was dark and heavy and the snow kept falling. It was almost as if they existed, alone, in an alternate universe. He chuckled. For him, that was wishful thinking. Tomorrow, they would be back in New York and Annata would find every reason to brush him off. But tonight, he could hold her. He could touch her. The world outside was quiet. Only the occasional wind gust broke through the reverie. He kissed the hollow of her throat. Her perfume lingered there and he buried his nose in her neck. He wanted to remember how she smelled and how she felt—and the warmth of her skin.

  He loved her. He supposed he'd already known. It had just taken a kick in the balls to see it. He wanted to scream it from the rooftops. He loved Annata St. James. He loved her wit and her anger and her drive. And of course, he loved her body. He trailed his hand across her hip, possessively. She was, without a doubt, the sexiest woman he had ever known. He couldn't suppress a laugh. He still couldn't quite believe that she was letting him touch her.

  Beside him, she moaned. He felt his dick perk up at the sweet sound. He was ready for another go at her. With a devilish smile, he ran his teeth down the soft part of her arm. She moaned again and rolled to face him. She pressed her cheek against his chest and settled against him. Her breasts were smashed against him, which didn't help his emerging erection in the least. He bit her shoulder, trying to force her eyes open. When she still didn't wake up, he dipped his head to whisper in her ear. “Annie.” He drew out her name. “Annie, baby, wake up.” She burrowed her head into his chest. He laughed. “Annie, you're missing the snow.”

  That got her. She raised up on her elbows and turned her head to the window. Not being able to keep his hands off her, he went to work, removing the pins from her up-do. She purred and rolled her head into his hands. “It's so peaceful,” she murmured. He uncoiled her hair and ran his fingers through the jet black strands.

  “Why did you stop wearing your braids?” he asked. She shrugged, her face still to the window.

  “Too ethnic,” she answered. “I didn't think anyone was taking me seriously. Besides, I wore them during college, and I felt like I needed to look like a grown woman.”

  “They were sexy,” he said.

  “Exactly.” She turned tossed a look over her shoulder. “After we...” She waved her hand, not wanting to define exactly what had happened between them all those years ago. He was happy to define it for her.

  “After I fucked your brains out in your office?” he asked, matter-of-factly. She giggled, sounding young.

  “Yes, after you fucked my brains out, I couldn't keep wearing them.” She twirled a lock of her hair around a finger. “They felt too slutty.” He threw his head back and laughed.

  “What about that garter belt? You almost gave me a heart-attack when I saw you wearing that.” He felt his dick getting harder just thinking about it. “I didn't think you had it in you.”

  “Oh, I still wear those sometimes.” She shot him a sideways glance. “I was wearing one at the Christmas party.”

  “No!” He cried out, falling back against the pillow, his hand to his heart. “You have got to be kidding me.”

  “You fucked that one up.” She laughed.

  “You're killing me, Annie,” he said in a pained voice.

  “You got the last laugh, didn't you?” She poked him in the side. “You still got in between my legs.”

  “That's right. This ass is mine.” He slapped her ass and she squealed. He tried to pull her towards him but she rolled out of his grasp and out of the bed. He sat up, his complete attention on her nakedness. Her curves demanded his complete attention. He was suddenly so hard he ached. “Get back here,” he said, imagining all the dirty things he was going to do to her.

  “Say please.” She grinned, bending down to grab his shirt off the floor. She slipped it over her head and padded to the window. He clenched his jaw at the pang in his gut at seeing her silhouette against the window. How the hell was she just as sexy in his shirt as she was naked?

  “So beautiful,” she said, looking out over the city.

  “I know,” he said, not talking about the snow. She turned back to him.

  “Let's go outside,” she said, excited.

  “What?”

  “Come on, it'll be fun. I want to play in the snow.” She moved to her suitcase on the stand and opened it up. She pulled out a pair of yoga pants and a pair of tan sherpa boots. He threw back the comforter. Wherever she wanted to go, he wanted to go with her.

  “I have to go upstairs and get something to wear,” he said, pulling his suit pants on. She tossed on the yoga pants under his shirt. “I need my shirt!” he protested.

  “No.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “It's so warm.”

  “How am I supposed to go upstairs without it?”

  “We'll make a run for it. No one will see.”

  “See me running around half-naked, is what you mean.”

  “Just put your coat on. No one will know.”

  “Fuck it,” he replied and dashed out the door.

  Chapter 12

  And that's how they ended up running through the halls of one of the poshest hotels in Paris, at 2 a.m., him without a shirt or shoes on. She slapped a hand over her mouth to quiet her laughter as they made a mad dash to the elevator. He made it first, and hit the 'up' button.

  “I hope no one else is in the elevator,” he stage whispered to her as she came running up to him. She collided into him, throwing her hands around his neck.

  “Quelle horreur!” She giggled and kissed him hard on the mouth, only breaking the kiss when a fresh round of giggles consumed her. He did his part to keep her laughing, tickling her, and trying to lift the the shirt off of her.

  When the elevator came, she pushed him inside. Luckily, it was empty. They rode up the three floors, making out like teenagers, his hand up her shirt. When the door opened, she pushed him out her way and ran ahead of him. He chased her down the hallway to his room. He grabbed her hips and pushed her back behind him. She suppressed a scream of indignation an
d ran after him. “Cheater!” she whispered. He laughed and she clamped a hand over his mouth. She passed him again and turned the corner, looking for his room number.

  “It's like a maze!” she exclaimed as quietly as possible. He turned and ran back down the hallway, realizing they had gone the wrong way. She clenched her fists. She hated that he was going to win. She followed him and caught up just as he was swiping the keycard in the door. He looped an arm around her waist and pulled her into his room.

  With the door safely closed behind them, she slapped his arm. “You cheated!” He grinned like a fiend and turned on the lamp. The room was swankier than hers, she noticed. He had a bigger seating room and a balcony. “Wow, this is fancy.”

  He shrugged. “I like yours better. But I'm biased.” He pinched her ass and sauntered into the bedroom, his pants riding low on his hips. She followed him, looking around.

  “Did William upgrade your room and not mine?” she asked, curious and not a little pissed. Christophe passed his closet, where his suits hung color-coded. He opened the dresser drawer, where his clothes were neatly folded.

  “No. I did.”

  “Asshole!” She ran her hand over his suits in the closet.

  “I thought it might entice you to my room.” He smiled, pulling out a pair of jeans.

  “Right. Then why have we been in my room?”

  “It was your call.” He shrugged. “In the elevator, you asked if I would come to your room for a drink. The rest is history.” In the light, she noticed a jagged red scar on his shoulder blade and upper arm. She closed the gap between them and couldn't resist reaching out to explore the scars.

  “Where'd you get these?” She asked.

  “A car accident when I was 17.” He flexed his muscle under her hand. “Broken arm and cuts. Nothing too serious.”

  “Crashed daddy's Jag?” She asked, raising an eyebrow. He shook his head, a wry smile on his face.

  “It was a Porsche, actually.”

  “Mmm-hmm.” She couldn't pull her hand away from his skin. She dropped it to his side, where a large black tattoo was inked into his flesh. “And this?”

  “That was my surfing phase,” he said, his breath catching in his throat as she traced the black markings. “I went to Hawaii for a year after grad school.”

  “I remember,” she murmured.

  “You were keeping tabs on me?” He smiled.

  “Your expense reports come across my desk.” She shrugged.

  “Why?” His brow furrowed.

  “Because I requested them,” she said, not meeting his eyes. For a moment, she was scared he would be angry with her. What was that about? She usually liked to make him angry. But she felt like she was showing him a secret part of herself that wasn't very flattering. She didn't want him to think less of her.

  “Stalker,” he said, his voice dangerously low. She realized he was laughing at her. She forced herself to look him in the eye. His blue eyes danced with amusement. She bit her lip. “Don't worry, baby. You won't have to keep tabs on me anymore.” He kissed her nose.

  “Why's that?”

  “Because I'm coming to stay with you in New York.” He laughed. She poked him in his hard stomach.

  “You wish!”

  ***

  Annata ran out into the snow, her boots sinking in the wet crush. At least a foot of snow had fallen in a matter of hours. She bent at the waist, scooping up a handful and lobbed it at Christophe's head. He ducked behind a car parked at the curb. She darted to the other side, scooping up more snow. She tiptoed toward him, trying to be as quiet as possible. He stuck his head up and chucked a snowball at her. She shrieked as it missed her face, but exploded in her hair.

  "Did i mention I was a baseball star in my youth?" he called out.

  "I was in softball," she answered, shaking the snow out of her hair.

  "No wonder you throw like a girl!"

  She ran around the other side of the car and her snowball caught him in the chest. She laughed when he jumped up, skidding a bit, and chased her into the street. Snowflakes stung her cheeks as she ran. Her cheeks were beginning to hurt from the cold and smiling too much. She couldn't remember the last time she had played and laughed and smiled so much. If ever.

  He caught her around the waist and lifted her off of her feet. She screamed, her voice echoing off the quiet buildings that surrounded them. He swung her around in a half-circle before she wiggled out of his grasp. She swooped down and grabbed more snow.

  “Hell no!" He tried to backtrack, but slipped back and landed on his ass. She leaned over him.

  “Oh my god!” She laughed. “Are you okay?”

  “You're going to pay for this.” He scrambled up on to his knees. She grabbed the lapel of his coat and held up the snowball.

  "What will you give me to not smash this in your face?"

  "My pride?" he laughed.

  "Not good enough!" She made a movement toward him.

  “How about...” His face got serious suddenly and she felt her stomach drop. He kneeled before her, his smile gone. He opened his mouth and then shut it again. Maybe it was just her, but she suddenly got a vision of him proposing to her. She shook her head of the ridiculous notion.

  "A piggyback ride," she said. "That's the deal. Take it or leave it."

  "I'll take it." His smile didn't seem to reach his eyes, but she willfully ignored it. She dropped the snow and hopped up onto his back. He hooked his arms around her legs and lifted her up. She threw her arms around his neck and held on. She laughed, the sound muffled in his wet coat. He carried her as if she weighed nothing. “Where do you want to go?” he asked her. She pointed ahead.

  “Just walk?”

  “Just walk.” She tightened her legs around his waist. He trudged through the snow. He bobbed her up and down. She laughed.

  “Christophe?” She asked after a minute.

  “What, baby?” He turned his head toward her.

  “I'm happy,” she whispered.

  “You're what?” he asked.

  “I'm so happy,” she said, louder.

  “What? I can't hear you,” he taunted.

  “I'm happy, goddammit!” She called out with a laugh. Her voice echoed off the buildings again and she tightened her arms around his neck. He spun her around in a circle and she squealed again. “Don't fall!”

  “If we fall, we fall,” he said, trudging on. They came to the cross street. He swung her one way and then the other. “Which way?”

  “This way.” She pointed right. The snow swirled around them as they moved down the street. Christmas lights twinkled in windows and the streets were empty. Somewhere, a distant song played. She couldn't make out the tune. They came to a fountain at the center of a roundabout. He let her down and they went to the lip of the giant stone fountain. A single street light illuminated the details of the ancient stonework.

  “You have some change?” she asked, while checking her pockets of her coat. He dug his hands in his pockets, and pulled out a a few dimes and pennies. She took a penny. “Let's make a wish.” She closed her eyes. Then she tossed it into the unfrozen water at the bottom of the basin. He watched her, working his jaw. His face was partially in shadow. He looked almost dangerous, like a predator stalking his prey. “Make a wish,” she whispered. He closed his eyes for a moment, then flicked the penny into the fountain.

  “What did you wish for?” she asked.

  “I can't tell you.” He smiled. “Then it won't come true.” In a swift motion, he grabbed a handful of snow off the edge of the fountain and flung it at her. She felt the frosty wetness hit her on the cheek.

  “You!” she exclaimed, her mouth open in shock.

  “What? What are you going to do about it?” he taunted, a devilish look on his face.

  “I'm gonna get you.” She ran into him, pushing him against the fountain basin. He pulled her close.

  “I want you to,” he said. With his finger, he wiped the remaining wetness from her cheek. She couldn't see
his eyes in the shadow of the street light, but the smile slipped from his lips. She took a deep breath. The reality of going back to New York was going to hit them tomorrow. Even though it felt like they were the only ones on Earth right now, that feeling wouldn't last. She wanted to remember everything about this moment. She memorized the angles of his face. Drops of water crystallized in his eyelashes and hair. His shoulders looked impossibly broad in his wool coat. She could still smell the sweet scent of the wine from dinner on his breath.

  “You want to go back?” he asked, and she nodded. He took her hand and they walked back to the hotel together, the storm raging around them.

  ***

  Annata awoke naturally at six in the morning, her internal clock having reset itself to Paris time. She sat up, still in Christophe's shirt. He slept on his back next to her, his arms under his pillow. She resisted the urge to run her palm over his hard chest, and trace the ridges of his physique. But she had to pee, so she scooted off the bed and into the bathroom. They had returned to her room that night, even though his was more lavish. He was right—her room felt more comfortable. She padded back into the bedroom and couldn't suppress a smile. She loved seeing Christophe in her bed. She tried to imagine him in her bed at home. A fantasy uncoiled in her mind—breakfast with him, reading the paper together while sipping coffee, his suits ordered by color in her closet, taking a car to work together—she shook her head. She was losing her mind.

  She went to the window and her mouth dropped. The city was blanketed in fresh white, and snow was still falling. “Unbelievable.” Her eyes scanned the horizon. White as far as the eye could see. She checked her watch. Their private flight was supposed to leave at noon. They still had some time to kill before they had to get ready to go. She slipped back into the bed next to him, and flipped the comforter off of him. She checked his face, but the movement didn't wake him. His dick was erect, jutting almost flush against his stomach. She bit her lip and snaked a hand out to touch him. His skin there was soft and pale. She closed her palm around him and squeezed. He moaned and turned his head, but didn't wake up.