Close Up (14 page)

“What if I don’t want to?”

Her heart and her inner thighs squeezed. “That’s a lovely thought, but even as manly as you are, I don’t think carrying me up steep wooden and uneven steps is particularly practical.”

“Since when are you practical?”

“Since I discovered that life is expensive, as are medical bills for broken bones.” But then, because she didn’t want to be a total spoilsport, she said, “But maybe before you put me down, I could kiss you. As a thank-you for saving me from sudden spider death.”

“Yeah? I wouldn’t mind that.”

Sean hadn’t shaved that morning, probably because, unlike her, he hadn’t woken up an hour early to primp. He looked rugged and manly, and Kristine ran her fingers over his stubble before tracing his lips. He kissed her fingertip then lightly bit it. A warm pool of desire settled in her womb.

So she reached up and kissed him.

10

S
EAN REALIZED THAT
he was holding his breath as he tenderly cradled Kristine, her perky backside nestled under his arm, her thigh pressed against his rapidly growing erection. When she gave him a soft smile before closing the distance between them and kissing him, he finally exhaled.

If he were sentimental, he would say the breath he let go was one he’d been holding for ten years. But he was pragmatic. Wasn’t that what everyone always told him? He got the job done.

So he squashed the emotion that started to creep over him and concentrated instead on the feel of Kristine’s lips brushing over his and the response his body gave, reminding himself of his intentions for the weekend. He was here to shed the notion that Kristine was the only woman for him, that she was still very much in possession of his heart, whether he liked it or not. Because that’s what had bothered him all these years, wasn’t it? Not that he couldn’t find chemistry in bed with another woman, but that he couldn’t find the magic he’d shared with Kristine.

This was about sex, nothing more.
They
were about sex now, nothing more.

He set her down on the ground carefully so he could explore her mouth more thoroughly, so he could deepen the embrace by teasing her lips open with his tongue and sliding inside. She sighed as her feet touched the ground, but then she took advantage of the stable footing to reach her hands up to yank off his hat. It tumbled onto his shoulder, while she dug into his hair, mussing it as she kissed him back with more fervor, her body rocking against his.

Sean moved his hands over her backside, gripping the pert flesh as his control slipped. She was built for sex, with her narrow waist and hips he could grip when she rode him hard, breasts bouncing for his enjoyment. What he loved about her shape was that she was so clearly female to his male, her softness endlessly intriguing.

As he explored her mouth, teasing his tongue over hers, she sighed in pleasure, her breasts pressing into his chest. There were too many layers between her flannel and his jacket to feel her nipples, but he knew they would be high tight buds, and incredibly sensitive. He had learned early on in their relationship how far he could take her to the edge just by teasing her nipples with his palm and mouth.

The thought made him want to bend over and snap the buttons on her shirt, but it was too cold for that. After a decade out west, surely Kristine’s blood had thinned and she wouldn’t appreciate a northern exposure. But she surprised him by breaking off the kiss and leaning back to gulp in some air, her pupils dilated, lips shiny and swollen.

Yanking her scarf off, she loosely stuffed it in the front pocket of her tight jeans. “This is in the way.”

He pulled his hat off his shoulder and crammed it into his own pocket.

“In the way of what?” he asked, even as he reached for her, the pad of his thumb rubbing over her collarbone and down between the swell of her breasts, now exposed. The top button on her flannel shirt hadn’t been done up to begin with, the scarf nestled artfully in there, so it was an easy matter to pop the second button open and really get a view of some deliciously creamy skin.

“That,” she breathed, her eyes fluttering closed briefly.

“Is that all?” His voice sounded gruff, even to his own ears, but Sean couldn’t help himself. He’d been waiting a long time to touch her again, and without waiting for a response, he popped the next snap, so that her bra was exposed, along with the swells of her breasts above the red lace. Red lace. Damn. She knew how to stroke his cock without even touching it.

Goose bumps were on her flesh from the cold, and maybe, he hoped, from desire.

“I didn’t want you to suffocate in a scarf,” she murmured, her hand guiding the back of his head down to her.

Sean smiled in satisfaction, lust kicking him in the gut. She remembered. She knew what he could do to her. So he gave her what they both so clearly wanted. Nuzzling into her flesh with his lips, he brushed his fingertips over the fabric of her bra, finding her nipples under the lace, enjoying the way they tightened beneath his circular massage. Her fingers dug into his biceps, and she made soft little sounds of enjoyment.

When he peeled one bra cup down and flicked his tongue over her nipple, she gasped.

Unfortunately, before he could fully explore, he heard the distinct sound of a motor. Raising his head, he covered her by pulling her against his chest, an arm around her waist, as he scanned the lake. There was a boat cutting through the water. Not close enough to have seen anything, but near enough that they might infer what was happening if they glanced over. Sean had no intention of exposing Kristine to anyone, so he kissed her lightly on the top of her head, before snapping her flannel shirt shut.

“Let’s save that thought until we get in the cabin.”

“Damn it,” she cursed softly.

Sean laughed and stepped back onto the boat to retrieve their supplies. “No one is more disappointed than me.”

“Want to bet?”

The look on her face almost killed him. Kristine looked as if she was considering braving the dock spider and the rocking boat and climbing right onto his lap and having her way with him. Now that was hot. He tossed the bags and her suitcase onto the dock as fast as he could. “I thought you said you didn’t gamble.”

“I can’t lose on this one.” She gave him a rueful look. “Though I should probably work on my seductress skills. I don’t think you’re supposed to admit in the first five minutes that you want a guy to take you to bed immediately if not sooner.”

“These are unusual circumstances,” he reassured her, stepping back out of the boat onto the dock. When he moved right up into her space, she stood her ground. “It was no secret to either of us that we came here to bang each other’s brains out. But let’s wait until we’re under cover of the trees at least.”

“Spoilsport.”

She was joking—he knew she was, but something about her tone made him wonder if she could be coaxed into a fireside lap ride tonight. That was something she had emphatically refused to do on their honeymoon, make love to him outside, but maybe age had made her more adventuresome.

That thought intrigued him just a bit as he lifted her suitcase and started for the stairs leading up to the cabin. “Can you grab those grocery bags?”

“Sure.” She lifted them all and scrambled up the steps, brushing past him. “Dock spiders stay on the dock, right? Hence the name?”

“Yes.” Sean grinned at her back. Nice to know he could distract her from her fear of spiders. “I picked up stuff to make chili, I hope that’s okay. Maybe we can put it on the stove then keep busy while it simmers.”

“Doing what?” She skirted the fire pit and made her way up the wood chip path, darting a lascivious glance over her shoulder.

“Trolling.”

“Excuse me?” That was indignation marring her beautiful face. Her eyebrows drew together.

“You know, fishing. With a line dragging along the water.”

“Oh.”

That amused him. “What, you don’t want to fish? It’s cold out on the water, but this is prime fishing season for bass. Or if you want, we can go out in the middle of the night to snag some muskie.”

“That’s what you want to do in the middle of the night? Catch a giant pike?”

Be still his heart. She knew what species a muskie was? “Nights aren’t just for sleeping.”

Kristine snorted. “No,” she agreed, not calling him on it. They both knew nights could be spent in a third, much more enjoyable way.

They wound up on the deck together. He had a key to the house somewhere in his pocket, but as he dug for it, he studied her. How could he know her so well, yet not know her at all? It was the oddest sensation.

That was confirmed when she said, “I can get the chili going if you want to get some wood together. I would really love a campfire tonight.”

“Sure.” Did she know how to make chili? His wife Kristy hadn’t, but maybe Kristine his ex-wife did. Or almost ex-wife.

Sean found his key and opened the door for her, gesturing for her to enter ahead of him.

“Oh, Sean, this is beautiful,” she said, and the sincerity in her voice made his chest swell a bit with pride. “It’s perfect. You kept it simple and in tune with the island, but it looks very comfortable and relaxing.”

“Thanks.” He had tried to achieve exactly that. There were four small bedrooms and a sleeping loft in anticipation of the little kids growing up to double digits and hanging out up there. He had relegated a bedroom to his brothers and their wives and one for his parents, all snug with their queen-size beds. His own bedroom was on the opposite side of the house, ostensibly because he tended to sleep late on the weekends he was there. The truth was, it was more like he hadn’t wanted to watch all the happy couples shutting their doors to the night, leaving him very aware of his single status. He had never brought a woman to the island, because it was about family and commitment and tradition.

Except for Kristine.

Damn it. He shouldn’t have done this.

But as she set the grocery bags down on the large wooden table situated between the kitchen and living room, she looked around. “I wish I had brought different yarn. I feel inspired to do a throw with these autumnal colors.”

“What?” She had totally lost him with that one. He wheeled her suitcase into the doorway of his bedroom to get it out of his way. No sense in pretending she was going to sleep anywhere else. “Yarn?”

“To knit a blanket. I brought a scarf I’m working on, but this cabin screams for an afghan, you know?” She was unpacking the groceries as she spoke, as if she was saying nothing out of the ordinary.

“When did you start knitting?” he asked, oddly turned on by the thought of her fingers nimbly creating various soft yarn pieces.

“I don’t know, like four years ago. I needed a creative outlet. Dying my hair different colors every three months wasn’t good enough. Knitting is soothing.”

“I can see that. That’s how I feel about fishing.” He helped her put away the groceries. He’d bought a few basics, along with some beer, and on a moment of impulse, a bottle of champagne.

“God, are we so Minnesota or what? Fishing and knitting.” She smiled at him as she started poking around in the cupboards, emerging from one with a cutting board.

“You betcha,” he said, turning up whatever remnants of an accent were hiding beneath his business polish. He was proud of who he was and where he was from, and it took a hardy soul to survive winter up north. Even Kristine in her pinup makeup and Vegas history, would always be a Minnesota girl.

And yet she seemed determined to insist they were opposites.

Well, he was determined to prove they weren’t.

* * *

K
RISTINE STARTED CHOPPING
an onion, already having dumped ground beef into a pot to brown. This cabin blew her mind. It was like the culmination of Sean’s past and present, everything colliding together. The question was, where did she fit into this? By all rights, she should be relegated solely to the past, yet here she was, making chili in his present.

There were definitely moments where she wasn’t sure how to act, but that was more a result of not being in a relationship with him, not because she felt uncomfortable with him. But since they were no longer a couple, she wasn’t sure what was appropriate and what wasn’t. She’d seen him put her suitcase in a bedroom, but was that his room? She had no idea and didn’t particularly want to ask.

There had been strawberries in one of the bags and she snacked on them while she made quick work of the onions, tossing them into the beef.

“Aren’t you getting onion flavor mixed with your strawberries?” he asked, sounding horrified at the prospect. Sean was filling the fridge with beer and a bottle of bubbly.

Oh, my. What was he planning to toast? “A little. But I’m hungry.”

“That grosses me out.” He plucked a strawberry from the container. “Here.” He held it up to her lips.

Kristine was startled, but she obediently bit the berry, leaving the stem pinched between his fingers. Sweet juice burst in her mouth, and also slid down her lip to her chin. Flicking her tongue out, she caught the trickle. Sean’s eyes darkened.

Before she could even swallow, he kissed her, hard, with an urgency that had her gasping for air and tugging on his belt, knife and onion abandoned. It was time to take this where they both wanted to go. Cooking could wait five minutes, because she had a feeling that was all it was going to take this first time out. They had ten years of pent-up frustration between them, and she wanted him now, hard and fast.

Sean seemed to be of the same opinion. He turned the burner on the stove off with a quick flick of his wrist then he grabbed the two sides of her shirt at the neck and yanked. All her snaps gave with a glorious pop, her breasts bouncing from the movement.

“Oh, hell, yeah,” he said before he bent and sucked her nipples through the lace of her bra.

Kristine moaned softly, amazed at how quickly he could arouse her. While she clung to his waistband, he bit at her teasingly, his hands gripping her backside. Her scarf was still halfway into her pocket and without warning he yanked on it, freeing it and tossing it onto the kitchen counter as if its presence offended him in some way. Then he unbuttoned her jeans and slipped a finger inside.