Page 12 of On His Knees
“I can be fast,” I say and step into her. Like I said, the sooner I get this done the better. Being fast has nothing to do with wanting to get back to her as quickly as possible. I touch the sleeve of her dress, run my fingers over it. A low whimper catches in her throat. Yeah, I’m getting to her as much as she’s getting to me. That much is obvious. “But if you want thirty minutes, I can be slow,” I say, and she blinks up at me, like she’s trying to figure out whether I’m talking about sex or not.
“Fifteen...” she says on a breathless whisper. “Fifteen is good.”
“Okay,” I say, and usher her onto the elevator when it arrives. I watch her, and before the doors shut, I say, “Keep your hair up.”
I grin as I walk away. Oh yeah, I love seeing the long column of her neck, and I want to be the one to pull that clip free to let her mess of curls fall over her shoulders. I grab my coat from the bellman who took it earlier, and step outside, the cold air like a punch to my throbbing dick, knocking some sense back into me, thankfully.
The wind blows as I hurry to my chalet, the snow crunching beneath my shoes on the winding pathway. I hurry inside, turn the heat up a bit more, wanting it warm for when we arrive, and check the logs in the grate. The perfect setup for a seduction. I change into a pair of jeans and a sweater, and then I tug on my Sorels and ski jacket.
I check the time and hurry back outside, wanting to keep my word that I’d only be fifteen minutes. I enter the lobby and find Summer dressed in a different coat, one that reaches her knees, and a big pair of boots with fur peeking out of the tops. Goddammit, how she can make that look sexy is beyond me. Her eyes are searching for me, like she can’t wait to be with me again. A wave of need builds inside me at that realization. Why the hell do I like the idea of her needing me so much? I stare at her slightly parted lips for a moment, and resist the urge to stalk over there, grab her and plunder her mouth already. I exhale slowly to get myself together.
She turns her back to me and I hurry toward her. I bend to put my mouth near her ear. “Fifteen minutes,” I say, as her scent teases and torments my senses. “I’m a man of my word.”
She spins and the smile that lights up her face fucks me over big-time. Her eyes drop to take in my casual wear, and her smile widens as she taps her chin. “I can’t decide which I like more, the dressed-up version of Tate or this dressed-down version.”
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“Once you see me naked, there will be no competition,” I tease, and wonder if I’m going to get a punch to the nuts for my crudeness.
“Cocky much?” she teases in return.
“Cocky? That’s one way to put it.” She stares up at me like she doesn’t know how to respond, so I lean into her again and say, “But that’ll cost you more than a drink.”
She whacks me. “I told you, you didn’t have to buy me a drink.”
“I wanted to.” My stomach takes that moment to rumble. I put my hand on the small of her back, and lead her to the door. I hand the doorman a couple bills as she pulls a hat and mitts from her pocket.
“Is it far?”
I point to the lodge down the road. “Right there. You up for the walk?”
“Absolutely,” she says, and I kind of like that she’s a trooper, not one of those pampered women who needs to be shuttled everywhere.
She pulls her sleeve back and shows me her Fitbit. “Every step counts.”
I laugh. “You don’t need to count your steps,” I say as we head toward the lodge. “You’re perfect just the way you are.”
She glances down, averts my gaze. What is it with her? Does she not know how to take a compliment, or is she never complimented? A girl like her should always be admired.
Shit. What am I saying? She’s a con and you’d be wise to remember that.
Our breath fogs in front of our faces as we hurry along the busy path, people coming and going all hours at the bustling resort. We reach the big log-built lodge and I usher her in. In the center of the room, a fire burns in the hearth, and tons of people are around it playing board games, cards or just sitting and chatting. Off to one side a group of teens are laughing and playing some sort of rope game that requires them to contort their bodies. At numerous tables, people are eating cheeseburgers, hot dogs, chili dogs, French fries and onion rings.
“Not quite as classy, but the food is amazing,” I say. “I used to eat here all the time.” Not a lie. When I was a teen this was my favorite hangout.
Her eyes widen as she takes it all in. “I can see why, it looks so good.”
“Go warm yourself by the fire and I’ll put an order in for us.”
She nods, and I watch her walk away, unable to tear my gaze from her, until someone at the counter asks me if I want to order. I make my way over, and since I don’t know what Summer will like, I order a bunch of everything—to go—then hand over a stack of cash.
After I pay, I turn back around, and go ramrod straight when I see the group of teens, four guys and four girls, dragging Summer into the game they’re playing. Looks like she chose the wrong table to sit at—the one right next to theirs.
“Tate, save me,” she says as they try to persuade her to join them. I have no idea what’s happening, so I wander over to check it out.
“What’s going on?” I ask, as I step up to them.
Summer glances at me with pleading eyes. “They want me to play some rope game.”