Rocky Mountain Hideaway (To Love Again Book 2) (3 page)

“I’m so busy with her breasts that I can’t move below, but she is pushing her hips into me and I know she’s excited.” Isabel’s legs have fallen open. “I move her hand between her legs, so she can pleasure herself.” Tray pushes Isabel’s hand between her thighs, and moves his fingers back to her nipples.

“She touches herself between her legs, her hand over her skirt. She starts to rub herself. It’s very sexy.” Tray glances over at Isabel arching into her hand, pushing and releasing. She moans softly with the pressure he keeps up on her breasts, nipples red and swollen. He notices a tractor trailer passing them on the outside and calculates that the driver won’t be able to see them, but he doesn’t want Isabel to be distracted. He rushes on.

“She’s getting very excited and starts to rub herself more quickly. She’s moaning softly and I kiss her neck, telling her to come.” Isabel writhes over the seat, her hand moving faster between her legs. His hand barely able to keep hold of her breasts.

Tray feels powerful, yet totally helpless. He’s hurtling down the highway and there is nothing more he can do. She’s close, so all he can do is to continue the story. Try to keep her in the fantasy.

“She starts to moan louder and rub even faster, and push against me and I know she will come soon, so I squeeze her nipple hard…” Isabel moaned sharply and rocked her pelvis off the seat when Tray squeezed. She slumped back into the seat, eyes tightly closed and mouth open. Tremors passed through her body, her breathing jagged.

Tray watched as she orgasmed, the wave of pleasure washing over her face. He had never seen anything like it. It was amazing. He thought he couldn’t make a woman reach a climax, and yet, he just had with only one hand and a selection of words. Isabel looked sated, relaxed, and Tray felt very proud of himself.

He reached over to stroke her cheek, “You’re beautiful, Isabel.”

She turned away from him toward the window, and Tray realized she was embarrassed.

“I’ve never done anything like that.”

“Neither have I.” Tray marveled at the contradictions in this woman. One moment a sexy nymph bringing him to orgasm, now suddenly a shy side. “Hey, remember our deal? We’re scientists. This is an experiment.”

Isabel pulled her sweater over herself and looked him in the eye. “You’re right. It’s okay.” She smiled slightly and brushed the hair back off her forehead.

“Just okay?” Tray asked.

“More than okay, Tray. In fact, it was great.”

CHAPTER FOUR

Isabel did a double take as Tray pulled up in front of an enormous A-frame that dominated the small cul-de-sac. “This is your friend’s cabin?”

Tray grinned sheepishly. “My favorite hideaway - not exactly a cabin, I guess.”

“That’s an understatement.” Isabel surveyed the house. There was a large balcony jutting out of the double patio doors on the second floor. Large picture windows on the main floor framed the front entrance. A cedar hedge marked the pathway.

“Back in a bit.” Tray jumped out of the Jeep and headed along the side of the house. Isabel watched his tall, lean frame disappear around the corner, then she climbed out of the Jeep and started carrying groceries to the front steps.

Tray had rocked her world, yet again. She was still feeling a little embarrassed by her loss of control in the Jeep. She had never, never pleasured herself in front of a man. And to think she’d been so stimulated, she hadn’t even had to remove her clothing to do it.

The rest of the drive had continued in what seemed to be a comfortable silence. Tray had concentrated on the road, and Isabel had rested her head against the backrest, keeping her eyes closed. She needed to buy some time. She’d been a little horrified at her total lack of control and her wantonness. She’d protested, but in the end she’d gone along for the ride. And what a ride it was. Isabel felt weak with the thought of Tray’s voice bringing her closer and closer to her peak.

The loss of control was something that she really was concerned about. It had been a long time since she’d let herself be swept away by her physical needs. This weekend was supposed to be fun, yes, but she also needed to pay attention to the details. So she could get them right later.

She smiled and thought she would likely be able to remember these details. For the rest of her life. More than once she’d suggested to clients that they not engage in sexual relations beyond pleasuring each other, and having their partner watch them pleasure themselves. So maybe it seemed fitting, given the circumstances, that she and Tray also start at the beginning.

“You already have everything out of the truck?” Tray’s husky voice came from close behind her, as she set the last of the grocery bags on the stairs. His nearness sent a heat wave through her and she shivered with the intensity of her reaction.

“Slowpoke,” she teased. “Where’ve you been?”

Tray held up the key for her inspection, slid it into the lock, and swung open the door. “Your castle awaits you, my queen,” he teased.

Isabel stepped past, looking up into his open face and wide smile. She grinned back and turned into the large great room of the house. “This is incredible, Tray,” she said, kicking off her shoes and heading toward the large river-stone fireplace in the corner. Comfortable looking easy chairs surrounded the area near the fireplace. Further into the room was a dining area, separated from the main kitchen by an island and cooking bar. Isabel could imagine nights with a fire roaring in the corner and steaks sizzling on the Jenn-Air grill.

That was too domestic a thought, she chided herself. As much fun as Tray was, he was not for her. She was here for one purpose only, and shouldn’t allow herself to get carried away. Not to mention that the man doing the carrying was much too young for her. And - like herself - also not interested in a relationship. They’d struck a deal and she intended to stick by it. However, it was a beautiful house and she could easily imagine romantic evenings here with somebody.

Behind Isabel’s scientific fervor, behind her quest for the perfect career, behind her façade of always being driven to achieve more, lurked a true romantic. She knew it, and life seemed to be conspiring to have her acknowledge it. Denial was a powerful tool, but here it was. Here. Now. Rearing it’s ugly head.

She’d been fighting it for a long time. Her life had unrolled too quickly. She hadn’t had an opportunity to be a wild teenager, or to be a romantic, sexy wife because almost as soon as she and Chet were married, she was a mother. She longed for the sun-washed beach scenes she saw in movies, the candlelit dinners she saw in magazines. This was an opportunity to have some of that, even if it was fantasy. After all, she was supposed to teach Tray the art of love making and that required some romantic setting. Isabel took another look around the large room and decided she could set a scene here.

Tray was dropping bags of groceries on the kitchen counter. “Will it work?” he asked.

“It’s great Tray. How did you manage this?”

“Sadly, my friends never use the place. Now that their children are grown, I come here more often than anybody. It’s great, isn’t it?” Tray moved toward the stairwell and headed into the basement, Isabel watching his easy movements. “Back in a flash – I need to turn the hot water on.”

In the kitchen Isabel started putting groceries into the fridge. Should they eat first and then she would lay out the evening? Or should they have a bath and then eat, having as much time to linger in front of the fire as they might want. She could imagine lying side by side with Tray in front of the roaring fire, having another chance to see his washboard chest, his well-developed pecs.

Nuzzling her neck from behind, his hands circled her waist and he spoke softly into her ear. “Isabel, thank you for the drive out. It was incredible.” Isabel leaned her head back into his shoulder, relaxing into the warmth of him. It had been incredible, and she had nothing to be embarrassed about.

CHAPTER FIVE

Tray pushed a cutting board across the counter toward Isabel. “You’re on sous-chef duty, babe.”

Isabel shook out her hair, still damp from the shower and wrapped the terry robe tighter around her. Underneath she was wearing a scarlet silk teddy, part of her after dinner lesson plan. But for now, she was keeping the details to herself.

Tray was de-veining shrimp and dropping them into a large pan of rolling water on the stove. As quickly as they went in, he was fishing them out. “The trick with shrimp – any seafood really – is to not overcook it.”

“But is that it? They’re ready to eat like that?”

“No,no. But they’ll cook more with the rice.”

Isabel happily chopped and watched Tray make his confident way around the kitchen. It was clear that he was at home with cooking and had spent lots of time in this particular kitchen. He moved with quiet ease and efficiency, rinsing this, chopping that, testing the heat in the pan with his palm held inches from the surface.

He brushed past her, his hand resting easily on her back as he passed. It was hard to believe that only last night at this time she had been getting dressed to go out. She hadn’t even known Tray. She’d imagined a man like him and now here he was, in the flesh. Jenny had been right; one night had not been enough. A glass of water after a walk through a desert had not quenched her thirst.

Being with Tray felt so easy and right somehow. He didn’t put any pressure on her, she didn’t feel she had to be a sexy package. With Chet, especially near the end, she never felt that she was enough. With Tray, she could just be herself, he seemed to think she was great.

In her professional world, she was used to that kind of confidence and security, but it was something she’d never had in her personal life.

“Just about done, Isabel. You hungry?”

“Starving. I’ll set the table.”

“Way ahead of you,” said Tray, with a gesture toward the livingroom. A small table perched in front of a roaring fire, surrounded by piles of pillows for seating. Soft firelight bounced off the wine goblets and china. An off-white linen tablecloth draped softly into folds on the floor. A single wild rose had been placed in a small vase in the center of the table.

“It’s beautiful,Tray. Who taught you to set a scene like this?”

“I have the odd trick up my sleeve,” he winked, scooping food into a serving dish. “Actually, when my dad was fist sick, we all pitched in to give my parents a few moments of romance. This was one of the things we did.”

Isabel picked up the basket of sliced baguette and followed Tray to the fireplace. “Is your father all right now?”

Setting the food on the table, Tray turned away to poke at the fire. He added another log, and finally settled himself into the cushions beside Isabel. “My father died last summer.”

“Tray, I’m so sorry.” Isabel recognized the deep grief in his simple statement and was immediately sorry she’d asked. But Tray brought it up, didn’t he? The worst thing she could do would be to ignore it, brush it aside. The only thing bigger in life than the death of a parent, was the death of a spouse. Or worse, the death of a child.

“How did he die?” She placed her hand on his wrist.

“He was sick for a long time. Cancer.”

Isabel’s heart wrenched. She wanted to fold him in her arms and comfort him, but he seemed somehow at peace with the words. “It’s hard to watch someone you love die,” she offered instead.

“That’s an understatement.” Tray dished shrimp Creole onto Isabel’s plate and shook his head. “Let’s move onto happier things, shall we?”

“We could,” she agreed, popping a shrimp into her mouth. “Is that why you started college late?” She’d been thinking about Tray and his winning ways and easy manner. He looked young, but he navigated life with more life experience than his years would have graced him with.

Tray seemed surprised by her question. “Yes, actually. I’d started college at one point, but then I went home to help on the farm … when Dad was sick.”

“Are you happy to be back at school, then?”

“Psychology has always been my first love,” grinned Tray.

Isabel knew what he meant, and was surprised again at how much they had in common. The firelight danced off his open face, his mood completely changed with the shift in conversation. Isabel wanted to reach out and stroke his cheek, but reloaded her fork instead.

“This is delicious.”

“I’m glad you like it,” he smiled easily back at her. “Enough about me. How did you decide on psychology?”

“Oh, that. Well, it was the school psychologist,” she began while Tray studied her. She didn’t want to tell this story to a man who clearly thought she was so sexy. She didn’t want to tell him how she was a lame teenager, the brainy girl with no social life. “I ended up in his office, and we used to play word games. Who is stronger, the ox or the fox?”

“That’s a good one. Who is stronger?”

“That’s the thing. There was never a right, or a wrong answer. If I said the ox was stronger, then he would ask ‘what if the fox’s intellect helped him outsmart the ox, would that make the fox stronger?’ It could go in circles indefinitely. I loved it.”

“Good one,” laughed Tray, his green eyes twinkling. “For me, it was the contrast with life on the farm, where everything was just what it was. You didn’t look beyond or question what was, you just dealt with it. Psychology has opened up a whole new world for me. I finally feel like I have something to do.”