Flirting with Sin (6 page)

If he wanted her to permit him inside, he would have to lower his own walls.

Why he craved to be allowed past her defenses…he’d analyze that enigma later. Maybe. “This time of year is…difficult.”

“Ari.” Neveah shook her head, gaze soft and too understanding. “You don’t have to explain.”

He shoved off the wall and slid his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “Getting fucked up has been my way of getting through. And this year,” he clenched his jaw before forcibly relaxing it, “has been especially rough.”

Because Everett Graves, the long-haul truck driver who’d fallen asleep at the wheel and plowed into Caro’s car, killing her instantly, was up for parole next week. Ari balled his fingers into fists, squeezing, squeezing until his bones protested. The dull ache helped center him.

“Thank you.” Lashes lowered, Neveah rubbed her gloved palms over the dark blue denim molded to her long, lovely legs. “You must really love her.”

He nodded, the gesture short, abrupt. Yeah, he had. With all the passion and fire of a boy’s first love. And, as a man, he’d tenaciously clung to that teenage love even when the gilded edges of it had started to tarnish and flake. Even when the cracks under the surface refused to remain hidden. Even when the path they’d started together forked, leaving them to travel different roads.

Even then.

Now, remnants of his devotion remained, but it’d become so tangled and snarled with guilt, shame and anger, he could no longer remember what he and Caro had shared without tormenting himself over how they’d lost it.

How he’d lost her.

“Where are you headed?” Desperation to change the subject clawed at his throat, roughening his voice.

After not talking about Caro for so long, even this small conversation almost proved to be too much. He jerked his chin at Neveah’s heavy coat and fur-trimmed, knee-high boots. Though the outerwear covered her from head to foot, he didn’t have to wonder about the sexy curves hidden underneath. Not as of this morning. She might be petite, but breasts capable of fitting his palms pushed against a black turtleneck. Hips perfect for gripping, along with an ass that should be worshipped as a religion, filled out a tight pair of jeans. He wouldn’t have to worry about leaving bruises or holding back or going easy on her. She had a body created for fucking. The kind of fucking he loved. No holds barred, dirty, rough.

Christ
. With the eyes, hair and face of an angel, how could he have guessed Neveah possessed the body of a porn star? The mouth. He dropped his gaze to the plump, sinful curves. Yeah, that mouth should’ve been his first clue. This angel was fallen. And damn if he didn’t want to contribute to her corruption.

“I’m going sledding.” She removed a knit, page boy-style cap from her coat pocket.

“Sledding?” He couldn’t contain his disbelief. “As in…
sledding
?”

“Yes.” A corner of her mouth quirked. “You know, snow, the outdoors. Whoosh.” She held her hand high and mimicked sliding down a hill.

“Oh ri-i-ight.” He nodded. “Whoosh.”

She snorted, tugging on her hat. “Unlike you, I have been taking advantage of what this place has to offer. And sledding is number three on my bucket list.”

“Yeah? What were numbers one and two?” And why did a flash of jealously flicker within him at the thought of her enjoying herself with other people—men—while he’d been passed out? Fucking ridiculous.

“Ice skating and Irish set dancing.”

Ari blinked. “Apparently, I’m still drunk because I could’ve sworn you just said Irish set dancing.”

She scowled. “Considering how you spent the past forty-eight hours, I’ll thank you not to judge.”

“Hey.” He held up his hands, palms out. For the first time in longer than he could remember, honest-to-God laughter bubbled up inside him. It was unfamiliar…and damn good. Cleansing. “You have every right to get your Lord of the Dance on.”

She defiantly hiked her chin. “It’s called a bucket list for a reason. Now, if you don’t mind, number three awaits.” She turned but, after a step toward the door, she halted and slowly pivoted back around. “Do you want to come?”

Surprise winged through him. Sledding? For real? Growing up in LA, opportunities to slide down a snow-covered hill hadn’t arisen very often. When the Sincero clan had indulged in the rare family vacation, they’d traveled to his homesick mother’s India instead of Aspen or Sun Valley. He’d never…but wasn’t trying new things the point?

And, in this moment, studying Neveah’s carefully composed features and shuttered eyes, there was nothing else he wanted more than to zoom down a Colorado hill at a death-defying speed. With her. “Yeah, I do.”

Her eyes widened, astonishment and pleasure lighting her deep-brown gaze. A small smile curved her mouth.

“Well, get dressed—oh, wait.” She arched an eyebrow, tapping a finger against her bottom lip. Huh. Jealous of a finger. A first. “You can’t go in those clothes.” She flicked a hand at his long-sleeved white thermal shirt and jeans. “You’ll freeze. Do you have a sweater and coat?”

“I packed for Mexico, not the Rockies.”

“Oh.” A wicked—and scary as hell—gleam entered her eyes. “In that case, I have the perfect solution.”

Shit.

* * * *

“Shit.”

“What?” Neveah grinned. Even under his sunglasses and a slouched, brimmed hat, she could detect Ari’s dark scowl. “You’re not cold.”

The corner of his mouth curled into a sexy snarl as he surveyed the black down ski jacket and gloves he’d bought at the resort’s small, in-house boutique. “I look like an asshole.”

She snickered. “A warm asshole, though.”

She couldn’t glimpse his eyes through the black lenses of his shades, but she could easily imagine his narrowed, gold-green glare.

“You are enjoying this entirely too much.” He fidgeted, tugging at the sleeve and bottom of the coat. “Thank fuck my brother can’t see me now.”

Scoffing, she turned toward the glistening, white landscape that served as the golf course in the spring and summer. The November wind, frigid and biting, whipped around them. In a defiant “eff you” the sun shone bright, reflecting off the snow in a blinding show of light. She adjusted her sunglasses and tightened her scarf to prevent the sneaky, icy fingers of the winter air from creeping beneath her coat.

Besides, the cold couldn’t compete with the warmth heating her chest like a glass hurricane lamp sheltering a flame. The reason rested solely on the down-padded shoulders of the rock star standing next to her.

The invitation she’d extended to Ari had been impulsive. If she’d thought it through, she wouldn’t have asked him to come with her. Why would he, a man whose idea of fun probably included clubs, high-priced alcohol, five-star treatment and half-naked women, want to do something as juvenile as sledding? Just because she was excited over finally being able to go for the first time in years, didn’t mean he would share her enthusiasm. The fear of rejection had writhed inside her like snakes as she’d turned around to face him in the suite, bracing for his kind—and awful—refusal.

Only he hadn’t bowed out. He’d accepted.

The leaping spurt of joy inside her should’ve been a blaring, red caution flag about becoming too attached, too invested in a man so far out of her league she resembled a T-ball munchkin trying out for the Seattle Mariners.

Yet, here she was, crouched on a sled at the top of a steep hill, hoarding every moment in Ari’s company. Because this time next week, she would wake up from this teenage girl fantasy and find herself back in her office, slowly stagnating at her father’s mortgage company.

Sighing, she squeezed her eyes shut, fighting off the swell of frustration and helplessness.

“What’s the matter?” Ari’s taunting interrupted her morose thoughts. “Change your mind?”

“Keep your pretty, new jacket on, rock star.” She snickered before stretching out on the board on her stomach and gripping the guides. Her belly rolled and flipped. Damn, this hill was steep. She inhaled a deep breath. “Okay, on three. One…”

“Three.” He shoved the back of the sled and she flew down the incline.

The wind whistled around her, ripping the “son-of-a-bitch” she screamed at him from her throat. Fear and exhilaration raced through her veins like a freight train as the world zipped past in a blur of white, brown trees and blue sky.

As the terrifying and exciting ride slowed, she released a laugh and it rumbled from the deepest part of her.
Holy shit! What a rush!
She hooted, scrambling to her feet. Again. She so had to do it again.

A roar was her only warning to get out of the way.

Ari zoomed past her with a wild whoop and the delight inside her bubbled like the finest, most expensive champagne. With another war cry, he leaped to his feet. “Fuck, yes! Again!”

Grinning, she grabbed her sled and bolted toward the top of the hill. “Race you!”

An evil cackle reached her seconds before a delicious, but stinging, blow landed on her ass, and Ari tore past her, his long, denim-clad legs eating up the incline. Heat the brisk air couldn’t extinguish radiated from her right cheek, extending its warmth to her sex and clit. Good God, she was getting wet on a freaking snow-covered golf course.

For the next hour, they sped up and down the hill like school kids frolicking on a snow day. She laughed more than she had in years. And, for a moment, as she stood at the top of the course, watching Ari hurtle toward the bottom of the incline, the realization saddened her. When had her life become void of simple joys like today? Or, a better question, why had she been okay with it?

Tucking the unsettling—and daunting—thought away for later, she glanced down at her watch. Twelve-thirty. She had a ballroom dancing class.

She waited as Ari crested the hill, dragging his sled behind him. “Hey, I have a ballroom dancing class at two and need to go change.

“Ballroom dancing?” He snorted. “Something else on the bucket list?”

“Sue me.
Dirty Dancing
is my favorite movie.”

“Ri-i-ight.” He nodded. A corner of his mouth quirked. “And nobody puts Baby in the corner.”

A crack of laughter escaped her. First, he’d recognized her
Lord of the Rings
reference days earlier, and now he quoted Patrick Swayze. Hell, it would be so easy to fall for him…

And the mental slip of the tongue drew her up hard.
Don’t. Go. There
.

“C’mon.” He grabbed her hand, dropped his sled and sat her down on it. In seconds, his chest pressed her back, his long legs bracketing hers. “Prop your feet up.” He slid his arms around her waist. “Hold the sides.”

Her limbs followed his instructions like an automaton, but her brain screamed,
Holy shit!
He’s wrapped around me
. Yes, they were perched on a sled but, God, he surrounded her. His body, his scent, his voice. Her heart thudded against her chest like Thor’s Hammer striking a night sky. The pounding reverberated deep inside her, had her sex clenching with an emptiness begging to be filled, to be stretched until she wanted to cry
uncle
.

She shivered. God, it’d been so long. Though she and Troy had only broken up three months ago, their bed had been cold and lonely for at least two months prior to the end of their relationship. But it was hard to make love to someone who criticized every move she made, denigrated every idea, derided her appearance and femininity.

In spite of her ex’s constant condemnation, she loved sex. The closeness, the intimacy. No, she’d never experienced the earth-shattering ecstasy romance novels and movies expounded on, but being held, sharing the warmth of skin to skin… She’d missed it.

And Ari’s embrace slammed home just how much she had.

“Ready?” he murmured in her ear.

She nodded, unable to speak. With a push of his foot, they took off. Exhilarating. Made all the more so because of Ari’s big, strong frame behind and around her.

As they neared the bottom of the slope, his arms tightened and, an instant later, he launched backward, carrying her with him. She shrieked as they sailed through the air and oxygen punched from her lungs as they landed against the thick snow. He accepted the brunt of the impact, rolling a second later so she lay under him.

Shock and pure delight surged inside her and poured out in a helpless flood of laughter and gasps for breath.

“You’re crazy.” She slapped his shoulder. “I can’t believe you did that.”

He grinned down at her, appearing so carefree, she blinked. She’d witnessed his smirk, the sardonic twist of his lips, even a soft smile. But this—this unburdened, lighthearted expression. It was new. And she loved it on him.

Without conscious permission, her gloved hand rose, and she brushed the back of her finger over his full bottom lip and piercing.

A second after the caress, she could’ve sliced off the offending culprit. Especially as all amusement fled Ari’s face like a convict with a Get Out of Jail Free card. His gaze sharpened and the golden skin over his chiseled cheekbones tautened. The hands on either side of her head fisted in the snow and, suddenly, she identified with a frightened rabbit stalked by a hovering eagle.

Hunted, targeted…
wanted
.

Breath trapped in her lungs, she waited for his next move. Would he tell her she had no right to touch him? Gently rebuff her? Or play it off as if the inappropriate touch hadn’t happened?

He pushed his hips forward and up, grinding against her.

A groan tore past her lips. Pleasure, honed and searing, blistered through her like a blow torch. The rigid column of his cock rocked over her clit, pressing the seam of her jeans against her folds.
Jesus
. She bit the inside of her cheek, imprisoning the whimper climbing up the back of her throat. But no way could she prevent her thighs from spreading wider to cradle him closer. No way could she stop from lifting her hips to answer the erotic demand to buck against him.

God, if not for denim, he would’ve been inside her. Buried inside her, so hard, so thick. She shuddered as if the phantom, heavy weight of him already filled her to capacity.

Another surge—another hot, slow ride—and moisture coated her panties. One more carnal stroke, and her core clenched, spasmed as she started down the slippery slope toward orgasm. It’d been so long. One more thrust was all she needed…