Page 35

Author: Tracy Wolff

She starts to pull away, but I cup the back of her head and press her mouth back down to my throat for more kisses. “I think you might have me confused with somebody else.”

“No, I’m pretty sure you’re the only egomaniac around here.”

“Wow, don’t hold back,” I tell her on a surprised laugh. Then I tug at her hair until she lifts her head so I can drop kisses along her jawline. “Tell me how you really feel.”

“How I really feel? I started falling for you about sixty seconds after I dumped that cup of coffee on your pants.”

I grin, because that might actually be my favorite memory of all time. “It was the abs, wasn’t it?”

She rolls her eyes. “God, you’re so arrogant. No, it wasn’t the abs. It was the way you laughed. I’d just dumped a drink on you in front of everyone, and you weren’t even mad. You just laughed and kept flirting with me. It was … nice.”

“Nice, huh?” I roll her beneath me. “You know what else is nice?”

“What?” she asks, and she’s a little breathless now—exactly the way I like her.

I push her sweater back, pull her tank top out of the waistband of her yoga pants, and shove it up, up, up until her br**sts are right there in my face. All full and gorgeous and rosy-tipped. “This.”

I bend my head, lick my tongue over and around one sweet nipple. Then I blow on it, letting the combination of warm tongue and cool air send heat spiraling through her. It must work, because she thrusts her hands into my hair and arches beneath me, pressing her breast against my mouth. Exactly where I like it.

“More,” she murmurs, and the sound—so husky and aroused—shoots straight to my dick.

I give her more, sucking her nipple into my mouth and running my tongue over it hard, the way I’ve learned she likes. Ophelia moans and pulls me closer and I’m again faced with the knowledge that being with her turns me into a green kid with no chance of controlling his own body. If she moves her hips, if she so much as rubs her pu**y against my dick, I’m done for.

With that thought in mind, I ease her off my lap, settle her on the bed. She moans a little, clutches at me, so I trail soft kisses over her br**sts and down her stomach in an effort to soothe her. And to calm myself down.

It doesn’t work. She’s so gorgeous lying there, her soft, fragrant skin silky to my touch, that it only ratchets up my need until it’s a pounding in my blood. In my head. In my heart.

I love her.

I love this girl.

The words and the knowledge of what they mean—what they really mean—work their way through me. They make the desperate need I have to be inside her, to feel her pu**y clench around me, only more feral. And, strangely enough, more tender, too.

Yes, I want to f**k her. To plunge inside her and take everything she has to give me. But at the same time I want nothing more than to protect her, to care for her, in whatever ways she’ll let me.

“Z, please,” she murmurs, her hands tugging at my hair, my shoulders. “I need—” Her voice breaks.

“I’ve got you, baby,” I whisper against her stomach as I slide onto the floor at the end of the bed. “I’ve got you.”

The import of those words hits me for the first time, makes my hands shake as I reach for her pajama bottoms and slip them gently down her legs. She’s mine. Ophelia’s mine.

For a second—just a second—tears burn behind my eyes. I blink them away before she can see what a total f**king pu**y I’m turning into, but the overwhelming feelings that caused the tears remain. I can barely breathe, barely think, through the need, the joy, the absolute terror that comes with loving her like this.

She must sense the crazy maelstrom inside me, or maybe I’m just doing a bad f**king job of hiding how f**king overwhelmed I am right now. Either way, Ophelia knows—she always knows—and she slips through my arms and onto the ground in front of me.

We’re kneeling now, our faces inches apart, her eyes looking into mine, her chest to my chest, and it’s the most intense moment of my crazy, fucked-up life. For a second I think about looking away, but she won’t let me. Those gorgeous green eyes of hers are holding mine, and I can’t look away.

“I’ve got you, too, Z,” she says, cupping my face in her hands. “I promise. I’ve got you, too.”

And then she’s kissing me, her lips moving over mine with an intensity that erases from between us everything and everyone that came before.

The kiss goes on forever, and by the time it ends, we’re both frantic. Both frenzied. She’s shoving at the robe, knocking it off my shoulders while I tear at her pajama top, ripping the buttons clean off in my desperate rush to be skin to skin.

Then she’s shoving me down onto the floor and climbing over me. “I need you,” she pants as she settles herself directly over my cock. “I need—”

We both moan as she slides over me, takes me inside her. I’ve never been with a girl like this before, never been inside anyone without a condom, and it feels amazing. For one long second I close my eyes and shudder as she lifts and lowers herself on top of me. I want to stay here, right here, like this forever. Want to drown in Ophelia and the wet heat of her that feels better than anything ever has or ever will.

But she’s my girl and I have to protect her. Have to take care of her. Though it nearly f**king kills me, I grab her hips in my hands, still her frantic motions.

“No!” she wails as she moves desperately against me. “Please—”

“Condom,” I gasp, cursing my goddamned jacket for being all the way across the f**king room. And still as I separate us, as I prepare to lunge for it, I can’t stop myself from cupping her br**sts and running my thumbs over her gorgeously hard nipples.

“I’m on the pill,” she says desperately, her body moving against mine. “I have been for three years.”

The pill. Oh thank God.

I’ve never trusted a girl before when she’s said that. But none of those girls were Ophelia. None of them were mine. I lift her by the hips, position her over me once more. But I have to ask, just to be certain she’s really okay with this. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Fuck, yes. Z!” She’s practically sobbing now, her hands grabbing my biceps so hard that her fingernails dig into my muscles.

The little pinch of pain is the last straw. It sends me right over the edge of sanity and, clenches around me.

Ophelia gasps and I freeze, terrified for a moment that I’ve hurt her. That I’ve been too rough. Goddamnit. I know better—

But then she’s moving, her hips lifting and lowering on me in a rhythm that has my eyes crossing and my breath coming in harsh, jagged pants. She’s close already. I can hear it in the way her breath catches in her throat, feel it in the way she’s trembling all around me. Thank God, because I don’t think I can last long. Not now, when she feels like this around me.

I lift a hand to her breast, squeeze her nipple between my thumb and index finger. She moans, a strangled little sound deep in her throat that sets on end every nerve ending I’ve got. The need to come is a wild blizzard inside me, the only thing holding me back the need I have to make sure she gets off, too.

I bring my other hand to her sweet pussy, rub circles around her clit with my thumb as she shudders and shakes. She leans forward, angling her body so that I hit a different spot inside her. The shift in position has her whimpering and me cursing as all the heat and need and pleasure—fuck, the overwhelming pleasure—whip through us.

And then she’s coming, her slick heat clenching around me in a rhythm that strips away the last tiny bit of control I’ve got. I grab her hips, thrust into her once, twice. Then I’m coming, too, orgasm rolling over me like an avalanche, burying me in pleasure so intense it’s pain. Burying me in satisfaction. Burying me in love, until Ophelia is all I can see or feel or taste. Until she’s inside me as surely as I’m still inside her.

She collapses on top of me, and for long seconds, minutes, we do nothing but lie tangled together as we try desperately to catch our breaths.

“I lied,” she murmurs when our heartbeats are finally back to normal. She’s curled against me on her narrow bed, the comforter tucked tightly around us.

My stomach jolts like I’ve just missed the best trick of my run. “About what?” I try not to sound as desperate as I feel.

Her face is pressed against my chest, and I can feel her lips curve up into a smile. “It was a little bit about the abs.”

The tension leaves me on a laugh, and I pull her closer, until her heart is pressed to mine. “I knew it.”

“Well, in my defense,” she says as her hands slide over the area in question, “they’re really good abs.”

Chapter 22


My phone vibrates as I’m serving two lattes, and I shoot a quick glance over my shoulder at Melanie, the girl I’m working with. I signal that I’m taking my break, and she nods at me. I’ve been waiting for this call from Z for what feels like forever.

“Hi,” I answer as I step outside, trying to ignore the fact that it’s even colder now than when I came to work this morning.

“Hey, baby. You sound like you’re freezing.”

“I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because I now live in the arctic.”

“I think you’re confused. The arctic’s a few hundred miles north of Park City.”

“Yeah, well, you couldn’t prove it by me.”

He makes a sympathetic noise. “It’ll be better next year, once your blood thickens up a little bit.”

“God, I hope so. Because it couldn’t get worse.”

“Really? It couldn’t get worse?”

He’s teasing, but I can hear a little bit of worry behind the joking, so I clarify, “The weather, not Park City.”

He laughs, so I change the subject. “How’s Aspen?”

“Colder than Park City,” he tells me. “Did you pack enough layers?”

“I think so. My aunt helped me pack, so I should be good to go.”

“I can’t wait to see you. I miss you like crazy.”

I can’t help rolling my eyes even though he’s not there to see it. “You’ve only been gone two days, Z. I think you can handle it.”

“I thought I could, too, but it turns out I’ve gotten used to you in my bed.”

It’s funny, because I’ve gotten used to him, too. We’ve only been together—really together—for ten days, but it feels longer. Like it’s finally right. Which seems crazy considering this is Z I’m talking about, but it’s true. He’s been amazing. Like the perfect boyfriend, all concerned and interested and supportive. He even drove into Salt Lake City and came back with some pamphlets from the colleges there. He’s lobbying hard for me to stay in Park City at the end of the season, and while two weeks ago that never even would have been an option, now I can’t imagine being somewhere else. Somewhere that he isn’t.

“Those are big words coming from a guy who used to sneak out the second his date fell asleep.”

“Hey! I thought we agreed you weren’t going to listen to any more rumors about me.”

“I’m not listening to rumors, baby. What I hear around here is pure truth.” I can’t keep the grin from my voice. He gets so flustered when I bring up his past, which I think is hilarious. It’s not like I didn’t know what I was getting into when I started dating him, after all. I even know about Stacy, the redheaded octopus, staying the night in his bed. And while that one stings a little bit, it’s not like I can blame him for it. We weren’t dating at the time, and I had pretty much emasculated him as I sent him out the door. And he didn’t even sleep with her, which is both shocking and a little charming, knowing what I do about him.