“An events coordinator?” She eyes me suspiciously. “Did you just make that up?”
“A lot of inns and lodges put itineraries together for their guests. I’ve never done it but I’ve had plenty of guests ask. One less thing they have to worry about so they don’t wind up spending their whole stay in their rooms. Think about it. You could still make good use of your degree and experience as a project manager but in a place you’d rather be. And if it turns out you don’t care for the job, we can find you something else.”
Her eyes soften as they fill with tears. “Maybe you could start doing little seasonal festivals or something. Oh, yes. I have so many ideas. Events coordinator sounds perfect. Thank you.” Aimee throws herself across the center console to throw her arms around my shoulders.
Without a second thought about where we are or who might see us, I pull her sideways into my lap. Squeezed between the steering wheel and me, I get a good feel for all of her luscious curves. Her upper body turned toward me, her breasts press against my chest and her thick hip rubs deliciously on my hardening cock.
She looks at me through her lashes biting her bottom lip leaving no question she feels it. She likes it.
“Take me home, Killian,” Aimee says moving her ass on my lap, letting my length grind into her.
I cup her face in both of my hands, threading my fingers into her hair as it falls as thick curtains around us when our mouths meet, hot and desperate.
“I wasn’t just trying to get out of coming to my parents earlier. At the ice rink. I wanted you then, as much as I want you now.” Her words stoke the fire that was already blazing inside of me.
“Fuck. I’ve never stopped wanting you. The second you walked into my lodge, you were mine because you always have been.”
“I’ve missed you, Killian.” She holds me tightly peppering kisses on my cheek and neck.
My hand finds the hem of her ugly Christmas sweater, the one with actual twinkling lights tangled in Rudolph’s antlers, and slips underneath. My palm and fingers relish the softness of her skin and the grip I get on her supple waist.
Aimee moans and buries her face in the crook of my neck when I slide my hand up her ribs and under her bra to take as much of her breast into my hand as I can and flick my thumb over the pebble-hard peak.
“You do that much longer, I’m not sure I can wait until we get back to your place,” she says, low and husky in my ear.
If this wasn’t our first time in so long, I’d test her on that. Drive her mad teasing her nipples and wherever else I can get my hands on her, then take her right here.
“Next time,” I tell her sliding her off my lap and kicking the Jeep into gear.
It’s a long drive up the mountain. Aimee doesn’t let the mood die, flipping open the fly of my jeans, and thrusting her hand into my boxer briefs to stroke me. When I get too close to coming, I hold her wrist to stop her but she fights against my grip. I settle for slowing the pace until I pull the Jeep to a stop outside my cottage.
I open my door. When Aimee turns to get out the passenger side, I wrap an arm around her waist and pull her out my side, scooping her up to cradle her in my arms.
She locks her hands behind my neck.
“I’m too heavy. You’re going to slip and fall.” She winces holding herself tightly against me as I wade through the snow to the house without issue.
“How many times do I have to tell you? I’ve got you.”
CHAPTER6
Aimee
Killian Tucker has all of me. My mind, my body, and my heart.
Just inside the door, we rip off our coats and kick off our shoes. Killian takes my hand and I follow him around the kitchen island to the short hallway to his bedroom.
Next to his bed, he keeps his eyes locked on mine until my head disappears as he pulls my sweater over my head. That’s when I realize I wore the least sexy thing I own. I guess if the man still finds me desirable in this stupid sweater, he has to be the one.
After tossing the sweater aside, Killian flattens his hand on my chest, over my heart then drags it down pressing his fingers into my cleavage.
“Quite a bit more of those than there used to be, huh?” I say, giggling.
“They’re fucking gorgeous.” Killian’s mouth replaces his hand, his tongue dipping between my breasts as his hand flicks open the latch on my bra. The rough scrubbing of his beard on my skin only heightens the sensation when the lacy fabric falls away and he moves to lap and suck a mouthful of my left breast while his hand massages the right.
My breath shudders in my chest. “Hot damn, you’re good at that.”
“If you like that…” he says pushing my leggings and panties down to my ankles. I steady myself on his broad, muscular shoulders to step out of my last shreds of clothing. I imagine he earned those muscles from chopping a lot of wood for the cast iron stove in the corner of his living room.
