Happy Hour: From the Black & White Collection (15 page)

nearly so confining, but then, his body temperature was higher than hers. The wind had stopped howling, and there was a lull in the snow. A good foot or two of the stuff had built up on the ground from the night before. It was soft, perfect for—

A snowball hit him square in the face. He recoiled in instinct and then shook his head. Ana’s brown

eyes behind her mask were alight with mischief and delight. “Whoops.”

“I can’t believe you just did that.”

“Hmmm.” She leaned over, picked up a handful of snow and packed it deliberately between her

palms. He watched her, hands loose at his sides. She let it fly, and this time the powder hit him square in the chest and dissipated. “Do you believe it now?”

“You little…”

When he bent over to grab some snow, she squealed and began running away, but soon discovered

snowshoes didn’t allow for much speed. She wasted precious seconds trying to get her feet out from them.

He, who had far more practice with the shoes, took them off in record time. Still, he waited patiently in his boots.

She yelped again when she glanced over her shoulder and took in his ready stance, a snowball in each

hand, and started to run back to the house.

“I’ll give you a ten-second lead,” he announced. He was feeling generous, after all, and she was slow

and tiny compared to him. Still, he let the snowballs fly, watching as she ducked and they smacked into the ground near her.

“Sucker…” came her faint reply as she disappeared around a tree.

Taylor didn’t even bother to run, his strides eating up the ground, one step to every three of hers. The snow was so soft it was an easy matter to simply follow her footprints.

About ten feet into the woods, though, her footsteps stopped in front of a tree.

His eyes narrowed. He looked left, and then right. He even glanced up, but there was no Ana sitting

up a tree. Not like she would have that much maneuverability with the bulky outfit on her. “Ana,” he

shouted.

Nothing.

He listened, but unlike Eli and the rest of his family, his hearing wasn’t quite so superior.

His smell, though…

Taylor smiled grimly and inhaled, sorting through the scent of pine and smoke to find Ana’s uniquely

feminine scent, overlaid by vanilla lotion.

Aaaaand, there she was. Hello, Ana.

He stepped around the tree, only then noticing the almost too-careful brushing of the snow. A smile

spread across his face, both proud and amazed. Smart girl, dragging something behind her to keep her path hidden.

For someone who’d grown up in a crowded city, she’d just mightily impressed him.

He didn’t bother walking anymore, but started running, his legs eating up the ground, following both

her scent and the brushed path in the snow. He’d catch her soon.

She’d zigged and zagged well though, moving fast for a tiny human who was weighed down by

winter clothes, boots and what appeared to be a tree branch. His admiration shot up another notch.

So did his lust.

When I find her…

He couldn’t even formulate the words as he ran faster, as her scent became stronger. Images passed

through his mind of her wearing a fragile peasant blouse and flimsy skirt. When he found her, he would rip her top off…

His strides lengthened. She’d gasp, but her body would conform to his, her mouth eating his as surely

as he ate at hers. Sinking sweetly to her knees, she would open his rough trousers, take his cock out and suck it into her mouth. He’d control her motions with his hand on her head, making sure that she fucked him exactly as he wanted and needed it, and then he’d hoist her up against the side of a tree, rip her panties off and fuck her as she screamed and squirmed under his body. The rough bark would bite into his hands

where he braced them, but he wouldn’t care, would be unable to stop…

The sound of panting filled his ears, and it took him a second to realize it was him, his breathing

coming mostly from arousal and not exertion.

Find your woman.

Fuck your woman.

The sentences became a never-ending loop in his head, reverberating through every cell in his body,

commanding him, working him into a frenzy. He didn’t even need to look at the disturbed snow—he could

smell her, so close, so close, soclosesoclosesoclose…

He broke free from the stand of trees. Her ski suit made her into a target of puffy pink, small and

defenseless in the huge backyard of the cottage. Like any good predator, he made sure she heard him too late. By the time she started to turn, he was in mid-leap. She could only get out a tiny squeak before he tackled her to the ground.

Somehow, though he was in his frenzied state, he managed to keep her landing soft, cradling a hand

under her head so she wouldn’t smack it against the snow, shifting his weight so he didn’t land on her.

He kissed her, his desperation and need a living thing, uncaring that she still wore a ski mask,

uncaring that she was bundled in layers of slick outerwear.

She kissed him back eagerly, but it was the cold lips under his that made him draw back, reason

entering his mind for the first time since he’d caught her scent.

“Inside,” he said roughly.

With the ski mask on, all he could see was her wild eyes and her lax, wet mouth. She grabbed him by

the sides of his face and brought him down to kiss her again.

He complied, surprised and hard. Was she as excited by this chase as he was? It was the slight touch

of wetness on his wrist where his glove had separated from his jacket sleeve that brought him back to the world.

“Too cold,” he rumbled, and moved off her despite her grasping arms.

He hoisted her to her feet and glanced at the house. Eli was inside there.

Good. Make him watch you take her. Maybe he doesn’t know yet that she’s yours. Force him to admit

it.

Taylor shook his head, trying to shove the vicious thoughts out. Images bombarded him again, even

more dark and dirty, of Eli holding Ana still for his penetration. Fucking his wife’s mouth while the other man ate out her cunt, both of them driving her wild with pleasure.

No! No. He’d never treat her like that.

“Taylor, please, fuck me here. I need you so bad.”

The dirty word coming from his wife’s sweet lips drove him even further into his dangerously

borderline feral state. If she had had his higher body temperature, she probably could have easily been fucked into a snowbank, but she didn’t. And he feared what would happen if he did take her to the house to find Eli there.

So he hoisted her into a fireman’s carry, ignoring her yelp of surprise, and made way for the huge

storage shed. Despite its humble name, the space was large and neat, and most importantly, it kept the cold out.

After he entered, he set her on her feet on the concrete floor and gave her a terse order. “Strip.”

Never venture out of bounds without a buddy—preferably two.

Falling, Freestyle

© 2010 Vivian Arend

Dara's past four incredible years have been lived to the fullest. Along with her best friends, Kane and Jack, she’s left no local wilderness unexplored, no ski slope unchallenged. Yet lately she wonders why

they’ve never seen her as more than a buddy with breasts. When—or if—either man will cross that

unspoken line.

It’s a line Kane eyes harder every day. Since high school, he and Jack have shared everything. A

condo, vacations—and their best girl. Kane’s ready to get serious about his wilderness school and outfitter business, and that includes putting down roots. Preferably with Dara.

Wary of the men who’ve recently been sniffing around Dara, Jack has a growing sense that he or

Kane better make a move soon, or they’re going to lose out on their perfect match. Question is, who does she prefer…and who’s going to bring their easygoing trio to an end?

Overhearing the boys arguing over her, Dara’s floored—and torn. Choose between them? No way.

Drastic measures are called for, a plan for their annual holiday getaway that will clarify her feelings once and for all—or lose everything in a sexual storm of whiteout proportions.

Warning: Old friends turned lovers can get into the most trouble—exhibitionism, bondage, spanking.

Anal sex, oral sex, unauthorized use of ski safety harnesses, icicles in the hot tub… The author apologizes
in advance for any melted monitors.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Falling, Freestyle:

Alpine Responsibility Code

Rule #5—Safety restraints must be used at all times.

Dara stood erect, her breasts like some kind of missile system. Cocked and fully loaded, they aimed

forward, barely contained by the wisp of fabric on her skin. It was the sexiest thing she owned and she felt more naked in it than if Kane had insisted she come to dinner in the nude.

She’d packed the scanty lingerie with uncertainty. Heck, she’d bought it during her mad planning

session for this getaway, trying to think of what the guys might find attractive. It wasn’t her usual attire—

having a string up her butt was not what she’d choose to wear most days. Besides, it was scary how much the shop had charged for mere inches of material.

It was all worth it when she saw the expression in Jack’s eyes as Kane led her around the corner. His

hands skittered over the utensils he was placing on the table.

“Oh sweet thing. Where have you been all my life?” He gave her one of his exaggerated winks.

Suddenly she was comfortable again. These were her buds, her “cuddle in the dark because there’s a

lightning storm outside the tent” friends.

Her lovers as of an hour ago.

There was nothing to fear from them, not even clad in the most come-hither outfit in the world.

Kane seated her carefully, taking the chair on her right. Jack sat on her left and they all filled their plates with the pasta and aromatic sauce.

Jack placed a piece of bread on her plate and she wrinkled her nose. “Garlic bread?”

Kane pointed with his knife. “He made Caesar salad too. We’re all goners, so you’d better eat some in

self-defense.”

“Garlic breath. Ugh. I guess we’re not planning on doing anything else tonight.”

The expression in Jack’s eyes shot down that idea immediately. Dara took a deep breath and turned

her attention to the table. She couldn’t maintain his gaze, not yet. Not when he seemed to look straight through her and see what she really wanted.

Which wouldn’t be so bad if she knew herself.

Their lovemaking before supper had made it clear she was physically compatible with both the guys.

Now she needed to concentrate on her real agenda. Who did she want the most, not just in the bedroom?

Who did she have the best chance at forever with?

She reached for her fork and stopped in surprise. “Umm, Jack? The food looks great, but you forgot to

give me any utensils.”

“Didn’t forget.”

Okay, now he was getting annoying. She pointed beside her plate. “Hello, nothing to eat with.”

His fingers encircled her wrist and tugged her arm toward him. Jack laid a thin black strap over her

skin and smoothed the Velcro fasteners together. The band formed a loop around her wrist, like a sports-watch strap. A longer section, with a locking clip, extended five inches toward the floor. She stared at him in confusion, attempting to pull her hand back. He closed his fingers over the strap and trapped her in place.

Oh my God.

Kane cursed. “You just happened to have handcuffs in your luggage?”

Jack shook his head. “Safety harnesses from my skis.”

Dara’s head spun a little as her heart rate increased in a rush. Pure adrenaline shot into her veins and morphed into desire. The tiny scrap of lace between her legs grew instantly soaked. Jack’s pupils dilated as he steadily returned her gaze. He waited, his hand supporting hers and she knew he’d felt her tremble. She waited, willing the blood pounding through her limbs to slow enough she could stay vertical.

“Dara?”

Jack held out his other hand, a second restraint dangling from his fingers. His unspoken question hung

in the air. Did she want this?

Hell, yes.

Slow, unsteady, she lifted her arm and offered her wrist. Kane swore quietly. Jack pressed a kiss to

her palm, his gaze locked on hers. “Good girl.”

He fastened the second strap, then rose to his feet. She kept her gaze fixed on the table, sensing him

walk behind her. Waiting for his touch. A hand landed gently on her shoulder and she shivered. He kissed her nape, brushing back her hair to whisper in her ear.

“There’s a flush over your whole body right now. Like a glow, lighting your skin. It’s going to make

you more sensitive. Make every touch so much richer.”

He drew the back of a finger down her throat and over the upper swell of her breast. The way Kane

had arranged her breasts in the supporting cups had forced the edge of her areolas to be visible at the top of the wispy fabric. Jack caressed, butterfly soft, along the dividing line between skin and material, and she swore her heart would explode.

His palms came to rest on her arms, slipping downward until he reached her wrists. Carefully he

brought her hands together behind her back, looping the extra material around her lightly. The click of the clips locking together echoed in her ears louder than the blood roaring past.

A moan escaped. She was on fire.

Jack slid a finger inside the strap loops, testing the fit. “They aren’t tight, but you let me know the instant you want them off, understand?”

She nodded, unable to speak. If she truly wanted to escape she could slip free. It was the thought of

being restrained that carried her into the fantasy.