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."
"I need a nap. A rest." She pushed weakly against his chest.
"Such a dirty mind. I'm taking you somewhere else."
"Where?"
His grin was wolfish and wicked and sexy as hell.
"Skating."
chapter 7
He loved the way she blinked with a heavy languor and stretched out, her glorious body free from covers and open to his gaze. She practically purred with satisfaction, and the fact he gave it to her made him feel like Rocky fucking Balboa.
"I don't understand."
His lips twitched. "I'm taking you ice-skating. Come on, I have another set of snow pants and ski jacket."
Those swollen lips pursed in a pout. "Outside? There's a blizzard in case you've forgotten." The ping of ice pellets against the windows tinkled in the air. Dylan pressed a kiss to her forehead and got up.
"Good, that's the best time to see it."
She shook her head, all that dark messy hair swinging over her bare shoulders. "I don't know. Doesn't seem very reasonable." She tried to crawl back under the blanket. "I already saw the rink from the balcony."
He laughed and reached over her, sliding out the bureau drawer. "I think you need a bit of motivation."
"That type of motivation will keep me from walking normal tomorrow."
"Hmm, you really do have a filthy mind. As much as I'd love to take up the challenge, I was thinking more of sugar."
Riley peeked from under the sheets. "Sugar?"
He slid out a king-size, bittersweet dark chocolate bar and peeled back the foil. Then broke off a square. "Open up." A shudder wracked her body. Her lips parted and he placed the chocolate on her tongue. He watched as she moaned and half closed her eyes in pleasure. Damn the woman was so sensual. "Good?"
"Heaven. I shouldn't be surprised you keep chocolate in the bureau. You used to hoard those snack-size Hershey's bars. I still remember cleaning up endless wrappers in the dorm."
He shrugged and po
pped a square into his mouth. "Never know when you'll need a lift. Worked for us. Do you still eat buckets of Lucky Charms when you're stressed?"
She stared at him with surprise. "You remember that?"
"Of course. I'd find those little bags filled with cereal around finals. You always ate the marshmallows first."
"They're the best part."
They finished eating in satisfying silence. When she was done, he carefully rewrapped the bar and stuck it back in the drawer. A tiny smear of melted chocolate stuck to her lip. Dylan leaned over and kissed her, swiping the last of the sweetness on his tongue. She felt so soft and warm and willing in his arms, as if she'd always belonged there. He pulled away with regret. "Now we're ready." He ignored her groan, walked to the closet, and began pulling out items. "I promise it will be worth it."
She grumbled under her breath, but he caught her half smile.
He threw a few items onto the bed and donned a pair of snow pants and a thermal shirt. "Make sure you put on the socks to keep your feet warm. Be right back."
Feeling like a kid on Christmas, he went downstairs to the basement and took the tunnel to the mechanics room. He spent a few minutes turning on the switches and setting things up. After carefully checking all circuits, he headed back to the main house and his bedroom.
She was dressed and ready to go. Those violet eyes brimmed with curiosity, but she crossed her arms in front of the overly large jacket. "I feel like a stuffed sausage. Have I told you I'm not crazy about surprises or impulsive decisions?"
"Another item that should be in the box. You need a man to challenge you. Push boundaries. Urge you to try new things."
"I don't think I like skating," she grumbled.
Damn, she looked cute. His clothes swallowed her up, but she'd be warm and dry, which was the goal. "You will. Let's go."
She clomped behind him in too-heavy boots, and he led her downstairs, through the darkened hallways in the secret tunnel, his gloved hand firmly enclosing hers. "Dude, if I didn't trust you this whole thing would reek of a B horror movie set."
"Nothing to worry about. I already ripped your clothes off and ravished you."
"Oh yeah, cool."
The door opened. Massive machinery hummed and buzzed, but Dylan didn't pause. Finally, they stepped outside onto a large open terrace that was barely lit.
The whip of the wind scratched like icy fingernails against his cheeks. They ducked their heads and he increased the pace. "Just a little more."
"It's cold! There must be a foot already out here and it's still not stopping. Dylan, maybe we could dump this plan and drink some hot cocoa without our clothes again because this is a bit-- Oh my God."
She stopped short. He took in the scene before him with full satisfaction. Yes. This was the reason he'd bought the park. This was what he needed to show her.
The bare trees lined the view of the hills and set off the large circular skating rink as if cradled between mother nature's hands. Endless white lights twinkled in a vision of blinding light, twisted in the branches. A large Christmas tree gaily decorated stood in the center, a miniature version of Rockefeller Center. Christmas carols streamed from the speakers. Soft, pure white blanketed every spare inch of ground, and crusted ice threw out a thousand rays of light, like a diamond showing off in all its glory. An elaborate roof covered the main rink and gates around it, protecting the precious ice from any type of weather conditions and allowing patrons to use it during inclement weather. Sure, it cost a bundle, but Dylan believed it was worth it. He saved so much on maintenance by not needing twenty-four-hour crews keeping the rink cleaned during storms or regular snowfall.
She squeezed his fingers and her voice came out in a husky whisper. "I feel like I'm in Frozen."
"Hmm. Not that you watch children's movies."
"It also won an Academy Award. Now be quiet or I'll punish you by singing Let It Go."
"Let's not be hasty." He smiled. "This is why I bought Rinker's Park. When you visit, you believe in something bigger, something beautiful. Don't we all need that?"
When she turned to look at him, a shift occurred. He held his breath, recognizing the crumbling of a barrier between them; recognizing the naked emotion in her eyes as confirmation. Dylan leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to her trembling lips. Then smiled.
"Let's skate."
They needed to hike through mounds of snow to get to the gallery where he housed the skates and equipment. She fell a few times, muttering under her breath about his crazy-ass ideas, and hung on to his hand as he dragged her through thigh-high powder. Dylan quickly fitted them with skates and led her onto the rink.
He tamped down the laughter for the first twenty minutes. Besides grabbing on to the rail and refusing to let go until she was ready, Riley frowned, muttered, and looked generally pissed off at his ability to skate perfect figure eights, backward and forward, while a few tentative tries landed her on that gorgeous backside.
Dylan enjoyed the transformation, though, when her usual stubbornness drove her forward into the middle of the ice in a sink-or-swim approach. Like most things the woman did in her life, she took the gamble.
And she swam.
He glided by her, grabbed her hand, and they hit stride. Watching fat chunks of snow surround them and ice sparkling added to the dreamy atmosphere. Dylan sunk into the moment, not needing conversation, just the presence of the woman he'd fallen in love with in an evening.
"My dad wanted a boy," she said.
Dylan didn't answer. A gut instinct told him to be quiet, because something bigger was happening underneath the surface and he didn't want to jinx it. After a moment, Riley continued.
"When I was born, he was disappointed. Of course, I didn't realize this until much later, after the tragedy. Sure, I knew he treated me with a distance, and seemed uninterested in anything purely female. But I had my mom, so that was okay. Dad's world revolved around my brother. He was three years younger. His name was Rick."
Dylan swallowed. He noted the terms she used, and knew the story was a rough one. But he kept skating, because he knew if he paused or said a word, she'd stop talking.
"I couldn't be too jealous because I adored him, too. Dad was always pushing him, in sports, grades, social status. Had dreams of Rick doing something really successful, and always talked about him being the head of some super conglomerate or running his own company. Rick would roll his eyes and crack jokes--he had this great sense of humor that just made everyone love him. He made things easy for me. Mom rarely gave me crap, happy that I was happy, and Dad concentrated all his efforts on making sure Rick would excel at everything he did."
Over the sound system, "Jingle Bells" turned to "We Wish You a Merry Christmas." They did a few more laps and she was able to continue.
"Rick and my mother were killed in an auto accident. June 11, 1998. I was sixteen. He was thirteen. Guy fell asleep at the wheel and hit them head-on. No one survived.
"After that, it all changed. Dad walked around like a ghost. So did I. I felt so guilty. I was obsessed with my social status at school, crushing on this guy in my biology class, and hoping he'd ask me out. I felt so stupid, worried about ridiculous things when my brother had been working so hard to give Dad what he wanted. Excellence. Success."
She lapsed into silence. "What did you do?" Dylan asked.
"I changed. I had to. I stopped worrying about friends and boys, and studied all the time. I decided to give Dad what we were all missing, and try to honor Rick's memory. In a way, it wasn't even hard. I learned to focus. I think I had the skills needed all the time, but I'd never been pushed before. I began enjoying the control and discipline it took to reach goals and depend on yourself. Much easier than maneuvering through social conventions, relationships, and teenage angst. Suddenly, my life was . . . cleaner."
Dylan fought the need to take her in his arms and comfort her. All his questions about her drive and talent were answered. Of course she'd take her brother's place. Of course sh
e'd dedicate her life to making her father proud. It was probably always within her, but never had the opportunity to flourish with her brother being in the spotlight. His heart hurt for the family they were, the girl she'd once been, and the sacrifices she made. But he sensed she'd locked up this story for a long time, and it had festered, like an abscess. In order for her wound to heal, it needed to be lanced. Shared. Purged.
"Did your dad notice?"
A tiny sigh escaped her. "No. But I don't blame him. I know he loves me. I know he's proud of me and what I've accomplished with Chic Publishing. He framed the cover of Fortune magazine and hung it in the living room. But Rick and Mom left a hole that couldn't be filled, no matter how good I was. And maybe that's okay. Maybe that's the way it should be."
He stopped. Tipped her chin up. Tenderness coursed through his body, his heart, his soul. She blinked furiously, her face a picture of confusion and sadness and longing. "I bet your mom and brother look over you every day, so damn proud of who you've become. Others would have sunk and given up. Whined and bitched and given excuses. You're a hell of a woman, Riley Fox. A hell of a daughter. And a hell of a sister."
She nodded. Accepting his comfort. Listening to the words and taking them deep to find a place where they could fit. He broke then, needing to touch her, protect her, make her happy.
The kiss was pure giving and comfort, but she turned it fast, grabbing on to him as if needing more. Dylan groaned and held her tight, his tongue plunging into her mouth and savoring her taste. The spark caught and exploded. He pushed her against the railing, ripping at the bulky clothes loaded with zippers and buttons, desperate to hit skin and give her the connection they both needed. She whimpered, and he swallowed it whole, managing to get the jacket open, sweater hiked up, and his fingers down her pants.
Holy crap, she was dripping wet and hot as his fingers hooked under the panties and sunk deep into her pussy. She bit down hard on his lower lip, but he didn't break contact, moving his fingers and dragging them across her clit, pushing her higher even as she bucked and bit and moaned underneath him.
"Give it to me, Riley. Now. Give it all to me," he demanded, twisting his fingers and slamming deep against her G-spot. And then she was coming, flooding his hand, while his mouth crushed her screams, never releasing the pressure they both craved. He kept his fingers inside her for a while, kissing away the one tear skidding down her cheek, murmuring inane nonsense in her ear while she settled. He kissed her, held her, and she relaxed completely in his arms.