Nobody Does It Better(17)

I push in, sinking deeper, making contact with all that glorious heat, until I’m all the way in. And it’s electric. It’s intense. It’s fucking breathtaking.

I move in her, slowly at first, searching for her rhythm.

She slides her hands along my back, and I shudder. “Love that. Do that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

She digs her nails in, and I pump harder, deeper. So deep she cries out, my name a long, carnal song on her tongue.

“Fuck, I love it when you say my name like that,” I whisper as I swivel my hips and drive into her.

“Shaw,” she murmurs. “I . . .”

I’m at a loss for words too.

Everything is sensation as I thrust.

Her wetness enveloping me.

Her soft flesh arching beneath me.

Her nails scoring my back.

Her hands gripping my ass.

Her breath coming faster.

It’s almost too much. My bones crackle, pleasure barreling through me on a mad dash for my groin. But that won’t do. I have one job—make her toes curl.

Gritting my teeth and fighting off the threat of my own orgasm, I hike up her hip, wrapping her leg around me, going deeper.

“So good, bunny. So fucking good.”

“Better than good.” Running her hands up to my hair, she wraps her fingers around my head, looking in my eyes. And we shift yet again. From friends to lovers to something more profound.

Yes, I’m fucking her.

Yes, it’s fantastic.

And yes, sex has been known to fry a man’s brain.

But this feels like a helluva lot more than a way to pass the time.

The sounds she makes unravel me. They make me burn everywhere with rabid lust. They turn my thoughts hazy.

She cries out, and then she does what she promised. She’s talking in Spanish, and I don’t know this language. But even I understand what she’s saying.

Oh God.

So good.

Yes.

Yes.

Yes!

I’m willing to bet the next one is something like this . . .

Coming!

Hottest sound ever. Her accent when she loses control, when she gives herself to pleasure, turns me on so much I can feel myself unraveling. She arches, shuddering, and I chase her there, groaning and growling until I reach my release, the snow a mad blur outside the windows, the world beyond the cabin spiraling away.

After, I need to know if we’re simply passing the time or if we’re starting something new. I want the latter. I want to start something with her and keep it going and going.

But when she lifts a brow and offers a suggestion for what’s next on the schedule, I don’t know that I’m getting the answer tonight.

Or that I mind.





10





Book Club Ladies Group Chat





CarolAnn: Dying here! Give us the details. Is everything firmed up for the wedding?



Miriam: Can you hear me squealing across town? It absolutely is. I can just picture them together having a dance, maybe a bite of Sara’s coconut cake, toasting to the happy new couple. It’s all so picture-perfect.



Sara: My heart is fluttering! (Though I’m not baking a cake for a wedding! Puh-leeze. That’s only for my man.) But this outcome almost makes me want to try to set up CarolAnn’s handsome paramedic nephew with my niece. You know, the one who works at Arden’s bookstore. What do you say?



CarolAnn: Yes! Madeline would be perfect for Hunter. He’s a teddy bear, and she’s a smarty-pants.



Miriam: Being a retired teacher, that’s my favorite kind of gal to set up. The paramedic and the bookstore gal are next on our list! Once this first project is complete, of course, in a few more days.



Sara: These youngsters just need a little nudge sometimes. And when they are so right for each other, they don’t always see what’s in front of their noses.



Miriam: Truer words. And you two may have given me a hard time about how long it took, but it never would have happened if we hadn’t intervened. Am I right?



Sara: Right, yes. Smooth, no.



Miriam: Smoothness is overrated. All that matters is these two young lovers are coming together! We simply had to be involved.



CarolAnn: They do need go-getters like us to move them along. And we know how to wring the most out of our lives.



Sara: Nobody does life better than us.





11





Vanessa





I dip a toe into the bubbling water. “It’s toasty,” I declare as stars twinkle in the inky sky. I shiver as the chilly night air wraps around me.

But I’ll be hot in seconds.

Shaw peers at the hot tub. “It damn well better be boiling since it’s colder than a polar bear’s pinkie outside.” He glances toward the back door—I wedged a brick in it. I’m no dummy. I’ve heard stories of people who freeze to death in outdoor hot tubs on back decks when the door locks behind them. The keys, bathrobes, and towels are all on a chair right outside the glass door.

Which is unlocked.

We’re triple-covered, though, because Shaw raps his knuckles on the window he’s also cracked open. “That way I won’t have to break out the ax and bust down the door if we did get locked outside.”