Snow Bound (6 page)

S
he wasn’t the type to indulge in casual sex. He’d hea
rd nothing more than upstanding-
citizen shit about her from the moment he’d picked the adjoining house. She wasn’t gossiped about because there wasn’t any dish. And if he used her and discarded her, right in his own backyard, he was a bastard for sure.

Distracting himself with the task at hand, he stepped off the porch without turning on the flashlight. Falling into the silent steps he’d adopted during covert operations, he tracked the perimeter of the yard, going as far as the edge of the trees without catching sight
n
or sound of the intruder.

Until he reached the far side of the house. Disturb
ed snow had him pausing. H
e hadn’t heard anything since he’d been outside,
so
he flicked on the flashlight without worry of anyone seeing. The snow at his feet held indentations the size of
male
shoes,
slowly filling as the white stuff continued to fall.

The trail led straight to the house, on the opposite side from
Damon’s
, and contained
enough prints that
it had
probably
been traveled several times. His heart rate picked up, speeding the blood
through his numbing body. Hard-
packed snow ended the track, right underneath the living room window.

Shit.

No way could he leave a woman alone with a stalker peeking in her windows. That meant staying the night. Hell, maybe several nights with his libido roaring full force. And he wasn’t a saint by any stretch of the imagination.

Him and Miss Priss were about to become a whole lot more than neighbors.

* * *

When Damon reentered the kitchen, he took the time to strip off his coat, gloves, hat, and boots. No sens
e tracking snow inside
. Not known for his subtlety, he stalked across the kitchen floor, pausing only long enough to blow out the candle on the butche
r-
block island.

He breached the doorway to find Tori kneeling
before the fireplace, now
wrapped in a soft terrycloth robe. A glance at the window to the left assured him she couldn’t be seen
from that window, although he’
d known that from his own
peeka
boo a few minutes before.

“Let’s go to bed.”

He’d meant the words to be stro
ng and straightforward. Instead
the ache in his gut echoed in his tone. She rose with fluid grace, despite the hands
twisting together in the cream-
colored material. He bet she had no idea that the firelight framed her golden hair or
that
the robe was thin enough to give him a shadowy glimpse of her figure beneath. His body kicked in its approval of his plan for tonight.

“Wouldn’t it be warmer down here?” she asked. Her drawn brows clued him in to her confusion, which made total sense. He’d burst out of here like she had the plague, and now he was proposing they go to bed together… and not just for the warmth. He wasn’t a saint, so he had no intention of laying next to her like a brother all night long. He had much more interesting plans for those hours.

He’d take care of her, in more ways than one.

“I’ll funnel the air from the fireplace upstairs,” he said. “But we’ve done all we can for now.” He kept his gaze carefully away from the window as he continued. “I did find some evidence of a visitor outside—“

“What?”

“Footprints. If I hadn’t gone out when I did
,
I might have missed them. The s
now is coming down heavier now, covering them up. So while we need to be alert, I’d rather not be in a place where we can be viewed.” He cast a pointed glance at the thin fabric of the curtains.

She nodded, though it was slow enough to indicate reluctance. No doubt. She’d had enough time for second thoughts, but they wouldn’t last for long. Of that he was sure
. Her response spoke volumes
.

God, he was a cold-blooded SOB
to stand there plotting this. Though he preferred to think of it as practical, something he knew would fly right out the window the minute he touched her. Better to make plans while he had a brain cell left.

“Why don’t you head on up and I’ll get things ready down here?”

“No, I’ll help.” Making the decision seemed to settle her. She retied the belt at her waist, a little tighter this time, then walked over to recheck the locks on the front door.

Damon banked the fi
re in the fireplace before turning
back to Tori. “Do you have a blanket we can use to cover this doorway?” he asked, gesturing to the double
-
wide archway into the kitchen.

She nodded, reaching into a
small door under the stairs to pull out a handmade quilt.

“Are you sure you want to use that? It might get messed up.”

“No problem,”
she said. With quiet efficiency
she handed him the bla
nket, then retrieved some heavy-
duty tacks from a kitc
hen drawer. They had the quilt
hung in no time
,
and Tori led the way up the stairs. Working beside her felt natural. More so than it should have.

At the landing
he closed off all the other rooms, creating a natural pathway for the heat to rise up the stair
s, along with
additional chances for an intruder to make noise. Tori walked ahead into the bedroom
,
and he could hear her pulling the drapes tight over the windows. Already the temperature was rising,
from more than just the closed-
off areas. He knew the minute he walked through that door, Tori would know his intentions.

He si
mply hoped she took pity on him
instead of leaving him to cope with an aching groin all night.

* * *

Tori froze in the middle of her bedroom, struck by the fact t
hat she was about to share her mahogany
sleigh bed
with a virtual stranger. And she had no delusion
s about them sleeping. Damon might
have bolted after that first kiss, but the heat in his eyes held no reservations upon his return.

She’d never
share
d this bed with a man
. The few relationships she’d had always seemed to end up with her going to their place. Maybe because she’d still been viewing this as her parents’ house until she redecorated a few yea
rs ago. This was her bedroom
’s inaugural event.

Pressing a hand to her stomach to quiet the nerves
, she listened to Damon’s movements on the landing, then as he made his way into the room. The door remained open behind him, allowing a warm draught of air to rise from the fireplace below.

She glanced over the rumpled sheets and remembered when she’d left them after h
earing a noise earlier.
Oh
no
—

Solid heat met her back, Damon’s arms circling around her middle. He bent close, speaking
right next to her ear. “Ready, d
arlin’?”

As his hands pulled smoothly on the tie at her waist, all thoughts fled the
premises. For once in her life
she stopped thinking and gave herself over to feeling. Damon’s actions could have been construed as helping her get ready for bed. After all, he was simply remo
ving her robe. But the urgent feel of
his hands could in no way be misinterpreted.

The
ir
goal was to get her naked.

He stroked her
skin through the robe, lingering along her shoulders and arms instead of efficiently pulling the covering off. His heat radiated
inches from her back, not bothering to
main
tain
a discreet distance for
propriety. His breath warmed the side of her neck, close enough to be fe
lt through her hair, instead of
…
Yes, he was stripping her of her armor.

And she let him.

The
material was tossed aside, unnecessary where they were heading. He pressed closer, the thinness of her nightgown no barrier to his touch. Her skin came alive as he made contact. She gasped. Though she knew he was virtually a stranger, her body seemed to r
e
cognize him, every inch acknowledg
ing
his effect on her
with a jolt of electricity
.

Without conscious thought
her hips rotated against him, pressing the curve of her cheeks into the cradle of his th
ighs. His moan echoed in her ears
. She couldn’t believe how hard he felt, even through the clothes he still wore. As if he needed her, desperately, like no other man ever had.

The tingle that worked its way down her spine settled in her core, wetness coating her
,
thick and warm. She repeated the motion, fascinated with his response to her, intent on driving him to act.

His la
rge, sure hands traced the slope
of her hips, down to the edge of the sleep shirt, then back up along bare skin. When he reached her hips
,
he paused, squeezing the flesh curving over bone. Her breath shuttered through her lungs, her body shaky and overwhelmed. His touch wa
s so good. But she needed more.

Glancing back over
her shoulder, she found his
eyes downcast. He watched the movement of
her body, the press of her flesh
against his groin. Her heart sped up, though why this excited her
,
she wasn’t sure. But it did.

Suddenly his exploring touch gathered force, became demanding and directing, rotating her harder against him. His own hips pressed forward, adding to the force with which they met. The denim of his jeans rasped against the cotton of her shirt, but she was ever cons
cious of her nakedness beneath.

“God,” he groaned. “I have to feel it, feel you.”

The drag of his fingers felt like he had to pry himself away, but within moments he fumbled with the button on his fly. Tori twisted, wanting to help, but he stopped her with a firm grip. “No. Stay like th
is.”

Waiting was excruciating
, yet exciting too. Hearing the fumble
of his fingers
had her pressing her thighs together, reveling in another gush of moisture. The pulse in her clit was strong
er
than she’d ever felt and they hadn’t even gotten naked yet.

Having
sex with Damon might be more dangerous than the man lurking outside
.

Damon cursed under his breath as the layers of clothing he’d dragged on to stay warm now thwarted his struggles for remova
l. If he didn’t get out
of the restraining mat
erial, he might just strangle a very important part of his anatomy
permanently.

Breaking his cock would not make a good first impression.

Finally the zipper yielded to his pull and he yanked it the rest of the way down. Spreading the placard of his jeans, he then pushed them from his hips, along with the sweats and boxers underneath. He didn’t have the patience to strip completely, so he left the clothes in a tangle around his thighs. His hands returned to the soft upper curve of Tori’s hips, dragging her sleep shirt with them.

For a moment
his intentions deserted him. All he could process was the picture of Tori
’s full ass with the tiny pink G-string tucked between the cheeks
. His grip tightened. “Oh, sweetheart. You are trying to kill me, aren’t ya?”

The subtle movement of her hips accompanied soft laughter. She wouldn’t be amused if she could see into his brain. All he could think about at the moment was bending her over and giving it to her hard, but he doubted that’s what she had in mind for
the night. He needed to rei
n himself in, r
emember who he was with. She might
have surprised him with a shotgun and
a
drawer full of tho
ngs, but he doubted she liked his usual
down a
nd dirty
. Unfortunately, the urge to go straight for hard and fast seemed to have multiplied with her, quickly outdistancing his control.

With a drawn-
out groan, he pressed forward. His aim snugged his cock right along the deep crease that halved her ass, the purple of his head a complement to the pink triangle resting at the top. Adjusting his grip, he slid a little deeper, beginning to pant as her warm
th engulfed the stem
. He squeezed, pressing her tight around his flesh.