“I’m going to turn on the generator so we can get the lights back on. Stay here. And don’t put on clothes.”
With one last kiss, he grabbed a candle and went out to the hallway. He took the staircase down to the control room, then after a few minutes got the generator running. The lights flicked on and he came back upstairs, ready to go for round two and three with the woman who had exploded back into his life.
She was wrapped in the dining room runner.
The gold and silver covering made her look like a yummy Christmas gift ready to open. Seeing her in full light—the rich texture of her hair spilling over her shoulders, the soft, flawless skin, the plump, swollen lips—took his breath away.
“God, you’re gorgeous,” he murmured. A slight flush traveled over her cheeks and upper chest. “Why are you wearing a tablecloth?”
Those extraordinary eyes narrowed and sparked. She spoke with pure haughtiness. “Because I don’t do naked.”
He gave a wolfish grin. “Covering you up should be a crime. I’ll have to convince you.”
He came forward but she jumped back, her hands clasping the edge of the runner. “No! I mean it, Dylan, I refuse to be so uncivilized.”
Amusement cut through him. She was so much fun. “Is this also in the box? Civilization and covering up what I just touched and tasted?”
Her composure never faltered. “Correct. I should’ve never told you about my box.”
“Suit yourself, darlin’. Come on, I want to show you something.” He stalked over to French doors and pulled back the heavy curtain. He felt her glare at his bare back, but also knew she was staring at his ass and enjoying the view.
“What about you?” she practically squealed. “You need clothes.”
He arched a brow. “I’m comfortable being naked. Do you have a problem with that?”
He noted the high flush of her cheeks and the hungry stare. Oh yeah, he had her good. “Yes, I do,” she said primly. “I can’t concentrate.”
Dylan winked. “I don’t want you to concentrate. Now get your gorgeous behind over here.”
“Fine.” She huffed out an annoyed breath and stomped over in her bare feet. The elegant cloth trailed behind her like a queen’s robe. Dylan unlocked and pulled open the French doors. He tucked her into his chest, then she leaned forward and peered out over the balcony.
Then gasped.
It was sheer magic. A winter wonderland children dreamed of. His home sat on top of the mountain with the perfect view overlooking Rinker’s Park. Pine and evergreen trees flanked the entire skating rink and edged the park, encrusted with thick layers of ice. Fat flakes fell down slow upon the scene. The skating rink could be seen in the distance, safely covered by the roof, and the painted horses in the elaborate carousel looked frozen in time. White icicle lights wrapped around the park and twisted through the trees.
This was the reason he’d bought the park. Besides the privacy he desperately needed, and his love for living in a natural isolation, there was something about the place that brought back an elemental piece of innocence left behind. It made Dylan remember what was important, what he wanted from life, and the constant struggle for balance. For a little while, overlooking the scene with the snow and fire behind him, with Riley held in his arms, he reached perfection.
“It’s so beautiful,” she whispered, as if not wanting to break the spell. “And this is all yours?”
“Yes.” Pride rang through his voice. “It’s mine.”
She shivered in the wind, but he felt nothing but the burning heat of her skin against his. The surge of possession rose through him like a tsunami and crashed. He practically shook with need for her again. To claim, push, torment, pleasure. Half dazed with want, he turned toward her and lowered his mouth to hers.
Damn the man.
How could she enjoy the view or think about anything except how good he looked naked? His body was spectacular, from the dusting of golden hair, toasty skin, lithe muscles, and the hard, taut muscles of his ass flexing as he walked. He wore his nakedness like his clothes, confident, comfortable, and a screw-you attitude if you didn’t like it.
There wasn’t a woman in the world who wouldn’t like it.
Need overcame her. She shuddered with raw emotion, feeling as if she wanted to climb inside him and experience everything he had to give. When he kissed her, she surrendered. Sliding her arms up around his shoulders, he pulled her in for more, gently sipping from her lips and then pushing his tongue inside to deepen the kiss. Riley floated, anchored to Earth by only him, and wondered if this night would ruin her forever.
He broke away, breathing hard. His eyes flashed with hunger. “I need you again.”
Riley didn’t answer. Just held on tight when he scooped her up and strode up the stairs and into his bedroom. She caught the barest glimpse of a huge sleigh bed, dark wood, thick carpet, and another fireplace before he stripped the tablecloth off her and pulled her in tight. They were gloriously naked, breast to chest, hip to thigh, mouth to mouth.
They feasted on each other, hands exploring, tongues tangling, until his very breath and taste and scent was imprinted not only on her body but on her soul. When she sank to her knees in front of him, taking him fully in her mouth, he groaned with an animal wildness that spoke to that hidden place in her. Crazed with the need to make him lose all control, she cupped him, stroking his steely length, running her teeth gently down the front of his cock. Dylan chanted her name, hands fisted in her hair, and when he finally released, she took all of him, milking out his orgasm until he shuddered under her, completely surrendering.
Riley waited for a normal recovery time, but he pushed her to all fours on the bed, fit himself with a condom, and began gently rocking his partial erection against her wet core. Riley groaned, pushing back, but he was back under control. Teasing her with his cock, he played with her breasts, pinching her nipples until they were hard and swollen. Sinking in a few inches deeper, he moved his hands lower, stroking her belly, clit, labia, giving her a little bit more of him at a slow, steady pace.
The relentless pressure of her oncoming orgasm made her his slave. She begged, rocked her hips, desperate for him to claim her completely, and as if he realized what she needed, he grasped her hips hard and slammed into her.
Riley cried out at the exquisite fullness. Keeping a brutal, fast pace, he took her with a savagery that engulfed her, as if desperate to mark her again as his, and she reveled in the knowledge that their lovemaking wasn’t close to being pretty, or elegant, or surface, but a give and take of basic, primal needs and wants that ripped away all civility.
Her skin bruised under his grip; her fingers ached as they twisted into the mattress; her muscles screamed with use. None of it mattered in the drive for release, and when his fingers finally slipped over her clit to pinch hard and release, she went over the edge.
A sob caught in her throat as everything inside of her emptied out and shattered. He was there to hold her when she collapsed, murmuring tender, nonsensical words in her ear as she came down from the wicked heights of pleasure, and for that one instant she knew she was safe.
Time had no meaning. Was it seconds? Hours? Finally, he rolled over, kissing her temple, pushing back her hair, and whispered in her ear.
“Are you ready?”
She groaned. No way. Riley couldn’t have another orgasm—she’d die. She shook her head. “No.”
“I’m taking you anyway.”