Falling for Mister Wrong (26 page)

She got a fistful of the back of his shirt.
“You’re wearing too many clothes.”

Will grunted something she could only assume
was affirmative against her skin and then he was moving at warp
speed. On his feet—

Oh no. Your mouth was doing such good
work
…

Whipping his shirt off over his head and—

Okay, this was good too. The man had muscles
on his muscles—all sculpted and with just enough hair to remind her
that he was a Man, with a capital M. He popped the buttons on his
own jeans, but before he could shove them down, he looked up, his
eyes landed on her half-naked self and that wildness—she was really
starting to love that wildness—entered them and he lunged for
her.

He lifted her, guiding her legs around his
waist as her arms naturally found their way around his neck. His
mouth sealed on hers and he spun them, about to set her down—

“Not on the piano!”

The sound he made was half-laugh, half-groan.
He hitched her against him with a palm on her ass, shot a single,
hopeless look at the steep steps up to the loft and then closed the
distance to the couch so fast the fluffy cushions were a soft
pressure against her back before she even realized what was
happening.

His weight pressed her down deeper into them
and she decided she didn’t care about anything that was happening
other than him.

She spread her legs, his weight settling into
the cradle between them. She could feel the hard length of him and
she undulated against it—for once not caring if it was the correct
foreplay technique, because
damn, who cared? That felt
amazing
.

Kissing his way along her throat, he lifted
his weight off her just enough to slip a hand between them,
pressing it flat against her stomach and sneaking beneath the
unbuttoned waistband of her jeans. She almost whimpered when he
found her nub, rolling it beneath one finger. His fingers slipped
deeper and he moaned, “Jesus, you’re so wet.”

She had no idea what to say to that.
Hell
yes I am, get down there and finish the job
seemed a little too
forward somehow. So she just grabbed his wrist, held on tight, and
pushed her hips up against his hand. He swore again, fumbling
one-handed to shove down his own jeans, as his fingers worked her
higher, his mouth against the underside of her jaw—

He froze, instantly utterly still above her.
“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.”

“Will?”

“Do you have something?”

Something? As in I’ve got something for
you right here, big boy? Because hell yes, she…
“Oh….”
Crap
. Condoms. “I don’t usually do this sort of…”

He took over the swearing. “I’m going to
die.” He jerked his partially lowered jeans back up his hips.

“Do you have anything downstairs?”

He shook his head. “Lately I haven’t…” His
expression firmed with resolve. “It’s okay. Don’t worry. I’ll take
care of you.” His hand, still wedged inside her jeans, began to
move.

Caitlyn squirmed. “I want to… Will… take care
of you…
oh God
… too.”

She reached for his waistband and he groaned,
dodging. “Don’t worry about me, darlin’. I’ve got you.”

And did he ever have her. She was about to
have the most shattering orgasm of her life. With Will. Only he
looked like he was in more pain that ecstasy and she wanted him
with her.

“Will, stop.”

He went statue still. “Are you okay? Did
I—”

She stroked her hands through the slightly
sweat-damp strands of his not-quite-black hair. “I don’t want to do
this without you. How long would it take you to get a condom?”

“Lodge convenience store. Eight minutes
roundtrip if I take the Jeep. Seven and a half if there’s no
line.”

She almost laughed. Her brain was barely
functioning, but she should have known a man would know how to
calculate the distance between him and sex down to the second.
“Well, get going, champ.”

His fingers moved one more time, driving a
hard gasp from her lips that he caught with his, dragging her into
a long drugging kiss. “Just marking my place,” he murmured as he
disentangled himself from her and the sucking depth of the couch
cushions.

He didn’t bother trying to find his shirt,
just grabbed his ski jacket from the drying rack and threw it on
over his bare chest. Caitlyn didn’t bother covering herself. She’d
never felt sexier in her life. She raised both arms above her head,
arching her back and watching her man stomp his feet into his
boots.

He looked at her once, groaned and adjusted
his jeans before walking—stiffly—to the door. “Six minutes.
Tops.”

Six minutes.

Six minutes when normally her brain would
intrude and her doubts would surface and she’d be a gibbering mess
of insecurity by the time he got back. But tonight was different.
She was different with him. He made her feel like there was no
right or wrong. No adequate or inadequate. No worry about being
good enough. Just want and need and
yes
.

She lay sprawled in semi-sexual abandon,
gazing up at the mountain, feeling drunk on Will and so absolutely
perfect
she couldn’t imagine how the moment could be any
better. Or rather she could. It would be better in four and a half
minutes when he got back.

This was right. Everything had finally fallen
into place.

She shimmied out of her jeans, debating for a
while about whether or not to take off her panties, then remembered
the
teeth
thing with her bra and decided to leave them on.
She adjusted her position on the couch, trying to find the sexiest
possible recline.

It wasn’t a very long couch, she realized.
Long enough for her to lay on comfortably, but Will was a fair bit
taller than she was. Either his feet or his head were going to be
hitting the end. That wouldn’t do. She could go up to the loft and
wait for them on her bed up there, but she didn’t want him to break
something in his rush up the steps when he got back… and really it
felt wrong to change the venue. This was where they had started.
This was where she wanted to finish this.

In front of the fire…

Caitlyn hopped off the couch, grabbed the
cushions and pillows and began arranging them into a nest on the
floor. She grabbed her favorite velvet-soft throw and threw it over
the entire cushy pile.
Not exactly a bear-skin rug, but not far
from it.
Perfect.

She smoothed her hair, debated running to the
bathroom for a quick teeth brushing, but decided there were more
important things than chocolate breath.

Lights dimmed. Candles lit. The Pathetique
and a carefully selected classical playlist drifting softly from
the stereo.

Caitlyn heard footsteps on the stairs and
rushed to arrange herself in her Rose in
Titanic
sprawl on
the pillows as the door opened.

Will stepped in, already shedding his jacket,
and his eyes sparked with something wicked and promising as he
drank her in. “You’ve been busy.”

He tossed the condom box on the floor beside
her nest, kicking off his boots. She eyed the Costco-sized box.
“You’re planning to be.”

He grinned, shucking his jeans and boxers in
a single move that left her mouth watering. “I figured better safe
than sorry. I have a feeling this might be a long night.”

Caitlyn wet her lips, eyeing all that lithe,
muscular masculinity with unmasked anticipation as he came down to
kneel over her. “Sounds perfect,” she whispered, right before he
caught her lips.

And it was.

Chapter
Thirty-One

Caitlyn woke the next morning in her own bed,
with only a note for company. Will’s absence wasn’t a surprise—he’d
warned her before they fell asleep that his classes started earlier
than hers and he’d try not to wake her when he left.

During their talks last night between more
athletic activities, she’d learned that his classes began even
before the mountain opened some days, especially on Fridays and
weekends when they had more tourists, whereas Caitlyn’s students
were almost all in school and her schedule tended to be heaviest
during lunch hour and after school let out.

She had a handful of homeschooled students
who filled in the gaps—many of them with parents who drove them in
from hours away for the privilege of taking lessons from the great
Caitlyn Gregg—but her early mornings were typically her own. She’d
experimented, her first year, with having before school lessons and
discovered that both she and her students hated the early
mornings.

Her first lesson on Fridays wasn’t until
eleven and it was only quarter to nine, so she didn’t leap out of
bed right away, taking a moment to enjoy the pleasant, sensual
soreness in her body. She had a dopey grin on her face even before
she reached for the note he’d left.

You were amazing. Encore tonight? XO
Will.

It was simple, no overflowing outpouring of
romance, but it still made her heart race. And yes, he’d just
signed it with a “kiss” but she was already feeling the dizzy
potential for the L word.

Not that she was going to rush into saying
it. She’d learned her lesson about rushing into things with Daniel.
She had all the time in the world with Will. They weren’t on a
nationally televised commitment schedule. They could take their
time, enjoy one another, learn one another, and if she was falling
head over heels for him… well, she could take her sweet time about
telling anyone that.

She
couldn’t
tell anyone about him
until the show ended anyway. Just a few more weeks now and she’d be
free. Free to be with Will and shout it from the rooftops. No more
paparazzi. No more talk of LA or comebacks. Just skiing and playing
the piano and Tuller Springs.

Heaven.

Caitlyn bounced out of bed, tied on her short
green Chinese silk robe, and scrambled down the steps. Will—prince
among men—had tidied up their nest already and left another note on
the café table, along with a cooling to-go cup from Java Hut and a
paper bag she found held one of their giant chocolate croissants.
She flipped open the second note.

No expense spared on chocolate in this
house. If you haven’t had Java Hut’s choco-croissants, you haven’t
lived. And after last night’s acrobatics I figured you could use
the fuel. XO Will.

She sat at the table, eating her croissant,
drinking her lukewarm coffee and gazing out at the mountain,
wondering which of the little figures zipping down the slopes was
Will.

This was it. The life she’d always wanted.
Right here in front of her. Now she just had to hold onto it.

#

“Will.”

He looked up, expecting to find his four
o’clock private lesson and instead found Tria standing next to the
giant ski school sign, both arms wrapped tight around herself,
either out of her nerves or an attempt to keep herself warm. Her
blonde hair was still pixie short, just the edges of it sticking
out from beneath her bright red hat. She hadn’t changed.

He’d expected the sight of her to hit him
hard. He’d managed not to lay eyes on her in the last seven
months—no small feat in a town the size of Tuller Springs. He’d
thought his heart would leap or ache or
something
when he
saw her again, but there was no melodramatic reaction from the
organ in his chest.

“I’m working, Tria.”

“I know and I wouldn’t be here, but you won’t
take my calls.”

“Because we’re supposed to be communicating
through our lawyers. Anything you have to say to me you can say
through them.”

“This isn’t about the money,” she snapped,
and it was the uncharacteristic sharpness that caught his
attention. “I convinced Andy to sell the house.”

It may have been the first time since The
Wedding That Wasn’t that it hadn’t been “we” between her and
Andy.

“Our real estate agent says the market has
dipped and we’re going to take a loss and when she starts talking
about equity I have no idea what she’s talking about. I’m not sure
where we’re going to find the money, but we’ll pay you back. We’ll
do all that. But I need you to forgive Andy.”

The bark of harsh laughter burst out of his
mouth.

Tria’s expression turned pleading. “He misses
you, Will. You guys have been best friends since you were eight. He
loves you. We both do.”

“Then maybe you should have thought of
that.”

“Do you think this was easy for us? Do you
think I just woke up one day and thought,
Hey, I think I’ll
break Will’s heart
?”

“You aren’t actually trying to make me feel
sorry for you because cheating on me with my best friend was
so
hard
on the two of you, are you?”

Her anger deflated. “No. I just want you to
stop hating him. Hate me if you want. I deserve it. But Andy’s
having a really hard time. I tried giving you time to cool off. I
thought eventually you’d come around on your own, but now…”

He didn’t want to know. He really didn’t.
But… “What happened?”

Tria grimaced. “He messed up his knee again
at a competition last week. He’s out for the season. Thank God he
had insurance this time.”

Will scrubbed a hand across his face. “He’s
an idiot.”

But that wasn’t new. He and Andy had been
inseparable since they were eight years old. Both addicted to the
rush of fresh powder and both resisting the siren call of
snowboards when all of their friends had begun switching over. Will
had preferred Alpine events, the few times he’d competed, but Andy
had gone nuts for moguls.

Andy had skipped college, choosing instead to
try his skis on the competitive circuit. He’d been good—and he’d
always considered himself too good to lower himself to teaching—but
he hadn’t been good enough to win the cash purses and sponsorship
money to really be able to support himself as a pro athlete. He’d
been nineteen when he blew out his knee for the first time and he’d
never come back all the way after that, though to hear him talk the
next season was always the one where he was going to dominate. Andy
was a big talker. And a big dreamer. It had always been part of his
charm, even when Will wanted to shake some sense into him.