Coming in from the Cold (4 page)

He chuckled, dragging his thumb slowly down her palm. “Something I’ve learned the hard way. How about this: gravity never takes a day off. You learn that pretty quick in my line of work.”

“Hmm,” Willow said, distracted by his touch. “That’s a bit obvious, but I’ll give it to you.” She pulled a raisin out of her pocket, passing it into one of his hands.

He briefly let go of her to pop it into his mouth. “Thank-you,” he said, finding her hand again in the dark. “Now you tell me something wise.”

“All right,” she said. “I never planned to raise chickens, but watching them has been fascinating. You can take three-day-old chicks, who have never seen a hen, and never been out of a cardboard box, and they’ll peck at the cornmeal you feed them. But if you put a worm in there, they go nuts, fighting over it. They’re crazy for worms, even though they’ve never seen one before. Instinct is real.”

“Well, that is cool,” Dane said. He was still massaging her hand, his thumb warming her palm. “If I get to judge, I’d say you win a raisin.”

Willow popped one into her mouth. “Your turn.”

“Okay,” Dane said, “I’ve learned that airplane food is universally bad, no matter where you go in the world. That’s not just a cliché.”

This time, when Willow brought a raisin toward him in the dark, he caught her hand and raised it to his mouth. Her palm brushed his chin as he guided the raisin to his lips. “Thanks,” he whispered. “So it’s your turn.”

She laced her fingers in his. His hand was so much bigger than hers. So warm and strong. “Hmm…I’ve learned that you can keep guacamole from turning brown by pressing plastic wrap across the surface.”

“There you go again, mentioning food,” he scolded.

His fingers brushed the sensitive skin above her wrist, and Willow was glad that the darkness prevented him from seeing her face. The sensation made her close her eyes. “But
you
mentioned food,” she whispered. She was beginning to feel giddy. Being trapped in a car in a storm should have made her feel stupid. Instead, she was pointlessly and inappropriately happy.

“
Big
difference. I mentioned
bad
food. Your homemade guacamole versus airplane food—in a cage match, who wins?”

“My guacamole, of course,” she giggled. “But you have no way of knowing that. Come on. Tell me something empirically true, and I’ll give you another raisin.”

He sighed, and the sound of it made her wish she could feel his breath against her face. “Okay. If you don’t look at the needle, it really does hurt less.”

Well,
that
was a bit dark. “Sure…” Her pulse began to race. It was crazy to touch this stranger. It was crazy, and she really wasn’t the type. But something about him made it difficult to stop. Willow reached into her pocket and retrieved another raisin. This time, she raised it to his mouth herself, sweeping her finger very deliberately across his lower lip before slipping it onto his tongue. He closed his lips, catching her two fingers in his mouth. He sucked the tip of her forefinger as she pulled it away.

Good God, it was sexy.

“Your turn,” he whispered.

Willow felt light-headed. That was the only explanation she could give for what she said next. “Lately,” she whispered, “I’ve learned that not all bad days end that way.” It was too dark to read his expression, even if she were brave enough to look.

In answer, he squeezed her hand. Then he tugged gently on it, pulling her toward himself. Willow held her breath, wondering if he was about to do what she hoped he was about to do.

It was very, very dark.

She felt his breath on her face before his lips found her cheekbone. He paused there, for two beats of her heart, his mouth offering a sensuous brush against her skin. Then, with a sigh, he turned his chin to find her mouth. The first kiss was small, a sweep of soft lips across hers, coming to rest at the sensitive corner of her mouth. “Is this okay?” he whispered. The words vibrated on her face. “If you tell me to fuck off, I’ll understand.”

Willow answered him by brushing the tip of her nose very gently up the length of his face and then down again. Dane’s next kiss brought his soft mouth over hers. And again he paused. But it was less a hesitation than a moment of heightened anticipation. Her heart practically stopped beating while she waited for his next move. And then his lips parted her own, his tongue sliding inside. And when she met him there, tasting him, he gave a low moan, and the sound made her heart skitter.

She felt both of his hands rise to the nape of her neck, his fingers detouring under her knit hat, into her hair. Then she was pulled closer, his kisses drinking her in, nibbling her lips, scorching her tongue. The effect was exhilarating, and suddenly her body was too far from his, the damned car too constraining. She wanted to feel her own arms encircling him, to know more about him than quick glimpses had allowed. But Willow had to content herself with a half-decent grip on his shoulders, which felt powerful under her hands.

Her conscience gave her a half-hearted poke.
Willow, you are making out with a stranger in his Jeep
.

No
, she told herself. She was making out with a sexy snow god during a blizzard. And yes, she was sure there was a difference.

Around them, the night was utterly silent. The wind had died. Willow cocooned against him, under their makeshift blanket, while the Jeep became covered with snow. The whole world fell away, except for the slide of his lips on hers, the strokes of his tongue against her own, and the sweep of his hands through her hair.

“Willow,” he breathed when they eventually came up for air. “I love your name.”

“Mmm,” she said, enjoying the tickle of his hair against her forehead. “I’m not sure what they were thinking when they gave it to me.”

He gave her a tiny kiss. “You never asked?”

“Never got the chance,” she breathed. “I haven’t seen my parents since I was four.” But that was a potential mood killer right there, so she raised her hands to his face, sweeping her thumbs gently across his cheekbones, and then down onto his lips, until he shivered.

“Possibly,” he said, kissing her again. “They were thinking, willows bend, but they don’t break.”

She smiled in the darkness. “You know, I’ve heard that one before.”

He kissed her, laughing. They could just not keep their mouths off of each other. “You aren’t afraid to call me on my bullshit. Most people don’t do that.”

“They don’t?” In spite of the cold night, Willow felt hot all over. “They should.”

He kissed her again, and she felt it everywhere. “Willow,” he breathed. “I would move this party to the back of my Jeep,” he said, “but that might be a bad idea.”

“Why?” she panted, hating the sound desperation in her question.

“I’m not boyfriend material,” he said. “I’m just passing through, and I wouldn’t want you to do anything you’d regret.”

He kissed her again, his mouth trailing from her lips to under her ear, to her throat, which made her head spin. She reached both hands under his cap, knitting her fingers into his curls.

His hands found the zipper of her jacket, drawing it partway down. But then he stopped. “I don’t mean to be blunt,” he whispered. “But it would be a one-night-only offer.”

Ouch
. “How pragmatic of you. Settling for me,” she said.

“What?” he pulled away, his voice cautious.

“Since you can’t ski the fresh powder, you might as well go with the sex.” She put her fingers on his lips so she could feel him smile.

“Christ,” he laughed. “I really shouldn’t have said that,” he said, kissing her fingers, then taking them into his mouth.

“Here’s a tip,” Willow said. “If you ever decide to be somebody’s boyfriend, don’t mention your preference.”

He leaned in, his lips finding her neck in the dark. “And in the meantime?” he half kissed, half spoke. His tongue on her collarbone sent a shiver of longing down into her core.

Willow was finding it hard to think. So far, her biggest mistakes in life had been made by giving her heart away for keeps. Her last relationship had been a disaster because she had expected way too much. Dane’s offer was, at least, very honest. And she wanted him. It was crazy, but she did.

“In the meantime,” she whispered, shocked at herself already, “we steam up your Jeep.”

He chuckled, pushing the coat off her shoulders. Then he kissed her again, his mouth smoldering hers with more heat and longing than she had felt in a good long time. By the time she found the zipper on his jacket, nobody was laughing.

Willow tried one more time to conjure some sort of remorse over her actions, but found she could not. A long tangle of life’s events had conspired to lead her here, to this very moment. She didn’t know why that was. She only knew she didn’t want to run away.

Breaking off their kiss, Dane gathered the sleeping bag off their laps and tossed it into the back. She heard a rustle while he kicked off his boots, and then pulled his seat as far forward as he could. “You go first,” he said.

With a shaky breath, Willow scooted between the seats and into the back.

She was straightening out a corner of the sleeping bag when he very awkwardly climbed back to join her. “Where’d you go?” he whispered. “Having second thoughts?”

“Not exactly,” she said. “I just can’t believe where the night ended up, that’s all.”

“No pressure,” he said.

She slid nearer to him and stole his knit cap. This she tossed into the front seat, and then she scooped her hands into his hair. He wrapped her into a kiss, lifting the hem of her sweater. The sweep of his hands across her bare back combined with his tongue in his mouth was an exhilarating combination. He worked his thumbs up her torso, skimming her bra. “I want these clothes gone,” he said, his voice husky. “I swear I won’t let you freeze.”

“You first,” she whispered. Willow gripped his T-shirt in her hands and raised it over his head. Once he shrugged it off, her hands explored his chest. God, he was hard as nails under her hands. Athletes,
wow
. She skimmed his pecs, ducking her head to lick his nipples, which were hardened by the chill. Her hands ventured down his stomach, coming to rest on his belt buckle.

He interrupted her to tug her sweater upward.

“I said ‘
You first,
’” she whispered, grasping his fly.

“
Okay
,” he said. He was probably used to being in charge. But the situation was too raw, too far outside her comfort zone to abandon all control. He cooperated, stilling himself while she worked to unzip his jeans.

When she’d managed the task, he pressed his hands down on the floor and lifted his hips, giving her free reign to tug his pants off him. She took his jeans and his briefs together, pulling them down around his thighs.

“Hell, it really
is
cold,” he chuckled.

She worked his jeans off of him entirely. “I’ll let you keep your socks, under the circumstances,” she said. As she said this, she let her hands begin to trace a path back up his legs, sweeping his shins, his knees.

She took her time exploring his massive quads. He was solid muscle, as if carved from wood. She pressed his thighs apart with her hands and was rewarded with a hum of expectation. Gingerly, she moved one hand further back and onto his balls, which she stroked lightly, earning a moan. Then, still not rewarding him with the touch he really wanted, she climbed onto his legs, wrapping hers around behind him. Only then did she reach down between their bodies and slip her hand around his cock. He gasped, and she nearly did, too. Because Dane was a very big boy.

“Cold now?” she whispered.

He didn’t answer. Instead he wrapped her in powerful arms and kissed her like a starving man, crushing her lips to his. As his tongue plundered her mouth, she stroked his shaft. When he groaned, she straddled him even more tightly, hugging him with her legs. The feel of his cock through the fabric of her jeans was tantalizing.

A one-night-only offer
. His words echoed through her head. But what a night it was turning out to be. Dane’s touch was worshipful. Each time she shivered with pleasure, he kissed her. And when she touched him—her hands skimming his back, he sighed from deep in his chest. He was a puzzle—confident with his hands and his kisses, yet seemingly starving for affection.

This time, when he lifted her sweater over her head, she did not protest.

Dane took a deep breath as he tossed her sweater aside.
Don’t rush
, he ordered himself. Usually he fucked like he skied—leaning in hard, diving for the finish line. But this girl was something different—soft curves and warm hands. Her touch lingered, and it made him want her hands on his body for as long as possible.

He wished he could see her better, but the silent darkness held its own pleasures. As the snow continued to bury the Jeep, there were no sounds except for the sighs she made as his tongue stroked hers. Willow was turning out to be surprisingly adventurous. Yet at the same time, she was no pushover. He couldn’t imagine a sexier combination.

He let his palms slide down her small shoulders and slim arms. His two hands could nearly reach around her waist. When he skimmed back up, fingering the silk of her bra, her breath hitched. And the sound of her, and that her two hands were gently stroking his dick, took him back to his days as a horny teenager. He was practically ready to burst.

Gently, he pushed her hands off of his cock. “Lie down for me.” Cupping her head in one hand, he tipped her onto her back. She adjusted herself so that her head lay in one corner of their little makeshift room, allowing her to stretch out. Diagonally, and with her knees bent, she just fit.

Kneeling over her, he skimmed a hand over her jeans and up past her bare stomach. His fingers paused on her sternum, where he could feel her heart beating madly beneath his hand. Dane leaned down, putting his lips onto her chest. He opened his mouth, his tongue caressing her skin. His fingers went to the cups of her silk bra, the nipples straining under his touch.

She surprised him then, gripping his head in her hands, turning his chin slightly and resting his ear on her chest. With both arms, she held him there, smoothing his hair away from his forehead, cradling him. He closed his eyes and listened to the sound of her body circulating her blood, the muscle beating away beneath the surface. He was pinned to it—her heart—the one part of a girl he had always vowed never to touch.