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Gripping his shoulders, I toss my hair back and let my eyes drift shut.
“No. Look at me,” he demands. He eases his finger back, which is pure torture.
My eyes fly back open, outraged that he’s stopped. “Bran,” I breathe. “Please.”
“Say it, Kay. Tell me what you want. Tell me you want me to fuck you.”
My body starts to go from tingling to a desperate tightness that needs immediate release. “Bossy, bossy,” I say even as I rock my hips against his finger and give him exactly the words he’s asking for. “I want you, Bran. I want you to fuck me.”
His eyes darken with desire and he looks like a man on a mission to make me come in the next three seconds. He begins to stroke inside me with a finesse that shows he knows exactly how to please a woman.
He’s definitely pleasing me.
“You have no idea how bossy I want to be,” he says. “All day long I’ve been envisioning you on all fours while I tug your hair and smack that perfect little ski bunny tail of yours.”
“Bran,” I say and I don’t even know why. Just that I need to say something so I don’t let out a loud cry as an orgasm sweeps over me. “Oh!” Gripping his biceps like I might float away—which I just might, given how aggressive the jets are—I rock into his touch and appreciate him with every ounce of my undersexed being.
Though this isn’t the result of me being celibate prior to last night. This speedy explosion is all Bran and his triple attack of dirty words, G spot knowledge, and hair tugging. He’s the perfect combination of a nice guy at dinner then in full command of dessert.
Even now, as I’m trying to put myself back together after splintering apart, gasping in a large lungful of mountain air, Bran is squeezing my ass and setting me aside. “In the room,” he growls, scrambling up and out of the hot tub. “I need you naked, Kay.Now.”
He holds a hand out for me, and when I take it, just about hauls me into the hotel suite. The robes are left behind, and I barely have time to register the freezing late January air before we’re stumbling inside, Bran slamming the door shut behind us.
Then he unties my bikini top, stripping it off me and tossing it on the tile floor of the kitchenette. Going down on his knees, he peels my bottoms down next, informing me, “I don’t want you to get cold,” as he presses a kiss onto my clit.
Goosebumps are rising on my skin, but I’m not sure if it’s from my damp flesh or from Bran’s touch. Then he scoops me up like I weigh exactly nothing and carries me toward the stairs that lead to the loft area with the giant king bed.
Now, when I shiver, it’s one hundred percent the result of his hot and romantic gesture.
I might even swoon if I actually knew what swooning was. Bran is just that sexy.
Once he has me down on the bed, he shucks his boxer briefs and manages to find the remote and start the gas fireplace, all while staring at me with those brilliant, hungry blue eyes.
“I think I’m catching a glimpse of the big bad wolf,” I murmur, rising up on my elbows so I don’t miss a single inch of him as he climbs onto the bed.
Bran is as impressive as the mountain. “You haven’t seen anything yet.” He grips my knees and firmly shifts my legs apart. “What’s my line?” He gives me a devious grin. “Oh, yeah. All the better to eat you with…”
When his tongue flicks over me, I collapse onto the mattress and give a soft moan.
Seduction success.
I love it when a plan comes to fruition.
ChapterNine
BRAN
“No way.” The next morning, I stop dead outside the back entrance to the resort, stunned by the sight before me. I turn back to Kayley, a smile splitting my face. “This is the surprise?”
She beams, clearly pleased by my response. “I told you I had something fun planned for after waffles.”
“I was thinking sledding or cross-country skiing,” I say, nodding over my shoulder. “Not a sled dog ride. Did I tell you how much I love sled dogs? Or how many times I pretended I was racing in the Iditarod as a kid?”
Her grin widens. “Is that why you grew your beard out? So you could look like a mountain man racing through the Alaskan wilderness with nothing but his dogs and his wits to protect him from the harsh terrain?”
“Yes,” I say, laughing when she giggles, before confessing, “Actually, no, I just like a buffer against the wind when I ski, but your reason sounds better.”
“I’m pretty brilliant,” she says, wrapping her arm around my waist and motioning toward the heavily-bundled man currently holding the dogs’ lead at the front of the long sled. “This is Seth. He’ll be driving for the first half of the tour. Then, if you like, he’ll teach you how to call to the dogs and give you a chance to be in control.”
