The Winter Man (31 page)

“Well, you're not alone,” he murmured. “I'm not exactly an exhibitionist myself. Look, why don't you get under the covers and close your eyes, and we'll pretend it's dark.”

She looked up at him and laughed. “This is silly.”

“Yes, I know.” He sighed. “Well, honey, we're married. I guess it's time to face all the implications of sharing a bed.”

He sat down, took off his boots and socks, stood to unbuckle his belt, holding her eyes, and slid the zip down. Everything came off, and seconds later, she saw for herself all the differences between men and women.

“You've gone scarlet, Mrs. Sutton,” he observed.

“You aren't much whiter yourself, Mr. Sutton,” she replied.

He laughed and reached for her and she felt him press against her. It was incredible, the feel of skin against skin, hair-rough flesh against silky softness. He bent and found
her mouth and began to kiss her lazily, while his big, rough hands slid down her back and around to her hips. His mouth opened at the same time that his fingers pulled her thighs against his, and she felt for the first time the stark reality of arousal.

He felt her gasp and lifted his head, searching her flushed face. “That has to happen before anything else can,” he whispered. “Don't be afraid. I think I know enough to make it easy for you.”

“I love you, Quinn,” she whispered back, forcing her taut muscles to relax, to give in to him. She leaned her body into his with a tiny shiver and lifted her mouth. “However it happens between us, it will be all right.”

He searched her eyes and nodded. His mouth lowered to hers. He kissed her with exquisite tenderness while his hands found the softness of her breasts. Minutes later, his mouth traced them, covered the hard tips in a warm, moist suction that drew new sounds from her. He liked that, so he lifted her and put her on the big bed, and found other places to kiss her that made the sounds louder and more tormented.

The book had been very thorough and quite explicit, so he knew what to do in theory. Practice was very different. He hadn't known that women could lose control, too. That their bodies were so soft, or so strong. That their eyes grew wild and their faces contorted as the pleasure built in them, that they wept with it. Her pleasure became his only goal in the long, exquisite oblivion that followed.

By the time he moved over her, she was more than ready for him, she was desperate for him. He whispered to her, gently guided her body to his as he fought for control of his own raging need so that he could satisfy hers first.

There was one instant when she stiffened and tried to pull away, but he stopped then and looked down into her frightened eyes.

“It will only hurt for a few seconds,” he whispered huskily. “Link your hands in mine and hold on. I'll do it quickly.”

“All…all right.” She felt the strength in his hands and her eyes met his. She swallowed.

He pushed, hard. She moaned a little, but her body accepted him instantly and without any further difficulty.

Her eyes brightened. Her lips parted and she breathed quickly and began to smile. “It's gone,” she whispered. “Quinn, I'm a woman now….”

“My woman,” he whispered back. The darkness grew in his eyes. He bent to her mouth and captured it, held it as he began to move, his body dancing above hers, teaching it the rhythm. She followed where he led, gasping as the cadence increased, as the music began to grow in her mind and filtered through her arms and legs. She held on to him with the last of her strength, proud of his stamina, of the power in his body that was taking hers from reality and into a place she'd never dreamed existed.

She felt the first tremors begin, and work into her like fiery pins, holding her body in a painful arch as she felt
the tension build. It grew to unbearable levels. Her head thrashed on the pillow and she wanted to push him away, to make him stop, because she didn't think she could live through what was happening to her. But just as she began to push him the tension broke and she fell, crying out, into a hot, wild satisfaction that convulsed her. Above her, Quinn saw it happen and finally gave in to the desperate fever of his own need. He drove for his own satisfaction and felt it take him, his voice breaking on Amanda's name as he went into the fiery depths with her.

Afterward, he started to draw away, but her arms went around him and refused to let go. He felt her tears against his hot throat.

“Are you all right?” he asked huskily.

“I died,” she whispered brokenly. Her arms contracted. “Don't go away, please don't. I don't want to let you go,” she moaned.

He let his body relax, giving her his full weight. “I'll crush you, honey,” he whispered in her ear.

“No, you won't.” She sighed, feeling his body pulse with every heartbeat, feeling the dampness of his skin on her own, the glory of his flesh touching hers. “This is nice.”

He laughed despite his exhaustion. “There's a new word for it,” he murmured. He growled and bit her shoulder gently. “Wildcat,” he whispered proudly. “You bit me. Do you remember? You bit me and dug your nails into my hips and screamed.”

“So did you,” she accused, flushing. “I'll have bruises on my thighs…”

“Little ones,” he agreed. He lifted his head and searched her dark, quiet eyes. “I couldn't help that, at the last. I lost it. Really lost it. Are you as sated as I am?” he mused. “I feel like I've been walking around like half a person all my life, and I've just become whole.”

“So do I.” Her eyes searched his, and she lifted a lazy hand to trace his hard, thin lips. After a few seconds, she lifted her hips where they were still joined to his and watched his eyes kindle. She drew in a shaky breath and did it again, delighting in the sudden helpless response of his body.

“That's impossible,” he joked. “The book said so.”

Amanda pulled his mouth down to hers. “Damn the book,” she said and held on as he answered her hunger with his own.

They slept and finally woke just in time to go down to dinner. But since neither of them wanted to face having to get dressed, they had room service send up a tray. They drank champagne and ate thick steaks and went back to bed. Eventually they even slept.

The next morning, they set out for Ricochet, holding hands all the way home.

E
lliot and Harry were waiting at the door when Quinn brought Amanda home. There was a big wedding cake on the table that Harry had made, and a special present that Elliot had made Harry drive him to town in the sleigh to get—a new Desperado album with a picture of Amanda on the cover.

“What a present,” Quinn murmured, smiling at Amanda over the beautiful photograph. “I guess I'll have to listen to it now, won't I?”

“I even got Hank Shoeman's autograph,” Elliot enthused. “Finally I can tell the guys at school! I've been going nuts ever since I realized who Amanda was….”

“You knew?” Quinn burst out. “And you didn't tell me? So that's why that tape disappeared.”

“You were looking for it?” Elliot echoed.

“Sure, just after we got home from the lodge that night I deserted Amanda,” Quinn said with a rueful glance at her. “I was feeling pretty low. I just wanted to hear her voice, but the tape was missing.”

“Sorry, Dad,” Elliot said gently. “I'll never do it again, but I was afraid you'd toss her out if you knew she was a rock singer. She's really terrific, you know, and that song that won a Grammy was one of hers.”

“Stop, you'll make me blush,” Amanda groaned.

“I can do that,” Quinn murmured dryly and the look he gave Amanda brought scarlet color into her hot cheeks.

“You were in the paper, Dad,” Elliot continued excitedly. “And on the six-o'clock news, too! They told all about your skiing days and the Olympic team. Dad, why didn't you keep going? They said you were one of the best giant slalom skiers this country ever produced, but that you quit with a place on the Olympic team in your pocket.”

“It's a long story, Elliot,” he replied.

“It was because of my mother, wasn't it?” the boy asked gravely.

“Well, you were on the way and I didn't feel right about deserting her at such a time.”

“Even though she'd been so terrible to you?” he probed.

Quinn put his hands on his son's shoulders. “I'll tell you for a fact, Elliot, you were mine from the day I knew about
your existence. I waited for you like a kid waiting for a Christmas present. I bought stuff and read books about babies and learned all the things I'd need to know to help your mother raise you. I'd figured, you see, that she might eventually decide that having you was pretty special. I'm sorry that she didn't.”

“That's okay,” Elliot said with a smile. “You did.”

“You bet I did. And do.”

“Since you like kids so much, you and Amanda might have a few of your own,” Elliot decided. “I can help. Me and Harry can wash diapers and make formula…”

Amanda laughed delightedly. “Oh, you doll, you!” She hugged Elliot. “Would you really not mind other kids around?”

“Heck, no,” Elliot said with genuine feeling. “All the other guys have little brothers and sisters. It gets sort of lonely, being the only one.” He looked up at her admiringly. “And they'd be awful pretty, if some of them were girls.”

She grinned. “Maybe we'll get lucky and have another redhead, too. My mother was redheaded. So was my grandmother. It runs in the family.”

Elliot liked that, and said so.

“Hank Shoeman has a present for you, by the way,” she told Elliot. “No, there's no use looking in the truck, he ordered it.”

Elliot's eyes lit up. “What is it? An autographed photo of the group?”

“It's a keyboard,” Amanda corrected gently, smiling at his awe. “A real one, a Moog like I play when we do instrumentals.”

“Oh, my gosh!” Elliot sat down. “I've died and gone to heaven. First I get a great new mother and now I get a Moog. Maybe I'm real sick and have a high fever,” he frowned, feeling his forehead.

“No, you're perfectly well,” Quinn told him. “And I guess it's all right if you play some rock songs,” he added with a grimace. “I got used to turnips, after all, that time when Harry refused to cook any more greens. I guess I can get used to loud music.”

“I refused to cook greens because we had a blizzard and canned turnips was all I had,” Harry reminded him, glowering. “Now that Amanda's here, we won't run out of beans and peas and such, because she'll remember to tell me we're out so I can get some more.”

“I didn't forget to remind you,” Quinn muttered.

“You did so,” Elliot began. “I remember—”

“That's it, gang up on me,” Quinn glowered at them.

“Don't you worry, sweet man, I'll protect you from ghastly turnips and peas and beans,” she said with a quick glance at Harry and Elliot. “I like asparagus, so I'll make sure that's all we keep here. Don't you guys like asparagus?”

“Yes!” they chorused, having been the culprits who told Amanda once that Quinn hated asparagus above all food in the world.

Quinn groaned.

“And I'll make liver and onions every night,” Amanda added. “We love that, don't we, gang?”

“We sure do!” they chorused again, because they knew it was the only meat Quinn wouldn't eat.

“I'll go live with McNaber,” he threatened.

Amanda laughed and slid her arms around him. “Only if we get to come, too.” She looked up at him. “It's all right. We all really hate asparagus and liver and onions.”

“That's a fact, we do,” Elliot replied. “Amanda, are you going to go on tour with the band?”

“No,” she said quietly. “We'd all gotten tired of the pace. We're going to take a well-earned rest and concentrate on videos and albums.”

“I've got this great idea for a video,” Elliot volunteered.

She grinned. “Okay, tiger, you can share it with us when Hank and the others come for a visit.”

His eyes lit up. “They're all coming? The whole group?”

“My aunt is marrying Mr. Durning,” she told him, having found out that tidbit from Hank. “They're going to live in Hawaii, and the band has permission to use the cabin whenever they like. They've decided that if I like the mountains so much, there must be something special about them. Our next album is going to be built around a mountain theme.”

“Wow.” Elliot sighed. “Wait'll I tell the guys.”

“You and the guys can be in the video,” Amanda
promised. “We'll find some way to fit you into a scene or two.” She studied Harry. “We'll put Harry in, too.”

“Oh, no, you won't!” he said. “I'll run away from home first.”

“If you do, we'll starve to death.” Amanda sighed. “I can't do cakes and roasts. We'll have to live on potatoes and fried eggs.”