On His Knees Page 10

  “Okay, have your fun,” I grumble, good-naturedly.

  Summer finally joins me, dressed in her cute fox costume, with a hoodie and adorable ears. Her legs are bare, save for her knee socks and furry slippers. How she can make that sexy is beyond me.

  “You look amazing,” she says.

  “I look like a manic-depressive donkey,” I counter.

  She wiggles her tail at me. “Do I look foxy?”

  “Of course you do, and now I look like an ass with a boner,” I say, and she laughs. Once again I’m laughing with her. Truthfully, it feels good, too long in coming. Granddad was right. I do need to get out more often, inject a little more laughter into my life. But thinking about Granddad brings me back to reality.

  “Hey, it’s not so bad,” Summer says, picking up on my mood.

  I tug on my long donkey ears. “I’d better win a prize,” I say, and she hooks her arm in mine and leads me outdoors. Hell, I should just come right out and ask her about Granddad. Ask her what her connection to him is, and why he wants to bring her into the family. Maybe Granddad isn’t in love with her. Maybe they have a business arrangement. If that’s the case, then maybe I can have her all to myself.

  What the fuck am I saying?

  Even if I am right, and Granddad isn’t in love with her, we could never be together. If she ever found out the real reason I came here, she’d hate me, and I wouldn’t blame her. When this week is over, I need to let her go. I’ll only hurt her more if I don’t. Better to make a clean break.

  We reach the pond and line up on the ice. The first jumper half runs and pretty much does a belly flop. He howls and water sprays up and splashes the kids. They laugh and clap. The man swims to shore, stands up and spreads his arms wide, amping up the crowd for more cheers.

  “Someone is going to have a heart attack,” I say.

  “You know, circulation can actually take a boost, going from cold to hot. With the cold the flow is directed inward, with the hot it’s directed outward, and it makes circulation move like an accordion.” She moves her hands, mimicking the movement of the instrument.

  “Where does the hot water come in?”

  “My suite. My hot tub.”

  I stand there, watch a few more people jump in until I’m in the front of the line. Summer tugs on my ears. “Looks like you’re up.”

  “Oh, I’m up all right. I’ve been up since I saw you in that costume.”

  I glance at her and her eyes light, her bottom lip between her teeth, the look so adorable and sexy my pulse jumps. It’s clear that she loves when I say things like that to her. She loves being the center of my attention. I guess I’m honest enough to admit I like being the center of her attention, too. And in bed, when she worships my cock, fuck, a guy could get used to something like that.

  I wave to the kids, who are all cheering me on. “Want to see a donkey do a cartwheel into the water?” I ask, and they laugh. I run forward—the snow-packed surface of the ice isn’t too slippery—and demonstrate the world’s worst cartwheel as I hurtle myself into the frigid water. Jesus H. Christ. It’s cold. I clamp my mouth shut before I shout a string of obscenities. There are children nearby, after all. The cold water sinks into the suit as I dunk. I swim back to shore, find my footing and stand, lifting my arms for more cheers, despite my frozen balls.

  From the center of the pond, Summer is laughing, clapping and jumping up and down as I drag myself out of the water, and my pounding heart crashes a little harder against my chest. I love that look on her face, love seeing her so revealing with her emotions like that. I wave my hand for her, and she waves back before letting out a little squeal and cannon-balling into the water. The splash shoots up into the air.

  When she comes up the kids are laughing. She swims to shore and runs past me, fast. I catch up with her at a booth nearby where volunteers are handing out blankets. She’s laughing and shivering while we warm up as best we can. “Ohmigod, Tate.”

  “I guess you’re rethinking the brilliance of this idea, huh?”

  “No, it was fun, and the kids loved you.” We hurry back into the hotel. “I need to change,” she says, her teeth clattering.

  We both collect our clothes and disappear into our changing rooms, where I grab a towel and wipe myself down after shedding the wet costume. I leave it in the bin where other costumes have been discarded—to be picked up later by the shop associated with the event—and meet Summer in the lobby again. She runs to me, slides her arms around my waist and hugs me.

  “I want your heat,” she says, laughing, and I snake my arms around her, loving the way she’s clinging to me just a little too much.

  “Come on, let’s get you home.”

  Home?

  Well, technically the penthouse suite isn’t her home. It’s my grandfather’s.

  “We need to warm up,” she says.

  I inch back, grab her coat zipper and pull it to her neck. From her pocket I pull out her hat and mitts and help her put them on. Her entire body is shaking.

  “Should we stay for the prizes?” she asks.

  “No, I need to get you inside and get you warm.”

  “I put down my name and room number, so they’ll call if we win anything.”

  “I don’t care about the prizes. I only care about you.”

  But I can’t care about her. I barely know her. And all I’ve done is lie to her. I also know that while we’re here together, I can’t stay away.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Summer

  I PUT THE key card in my door, and Tate ushers us in. “Come on, let’s get out of these wet clothes.” He herds me into the bathroom, and that gives me pause. The corner penthouse suite is huge, with numerous rooms leading off the main room. How did he know exactly where to go? Has he been in here before? With other women? Jeez, he’s probably been in every room in every hotel here. I’ve seen the way women look at him, the way his coworker watches him when they’re behind the bar. Did he have sex with her in the storage room, too?

  Easy, Summer.

  I shut down my mind, not wanting to give the jealousy taking up residence in my stomach any kind of power. Tate and I are having sex, are exclusive for the week. Nothing more, nothing less. I’ve been keeping things to myself, so I can’t expect to know Tate’s business. I considered telling him that I’m a doctor earlier, after he saw me with that boy—would it be a big deal if he knew? He seems like the type of guy who wouldn’t be intimidated by it. But then, why risk changing anything between us? It’s not a big deal if he doesn’t know either...this isn’t going to last beyond the week. I just need to keep things simple and enjoy this while I can.

  “Then I’ll pour us some brandy,” he says, his deep raspy voice curling low in my stomach and arousing things in me no other man ever has. How the hell will I ever be able to go back to Manhattan and live a normal life after experiencing this one with Tate? I’m pretty certain he’s going to ruin me for other men. Not that I had time for men back home, building my business, working at the clinic several days a week, and taking care of James.

  Lacking any sort of modesty, we both peel our clothes from our bodies and drop them onto the marble bathroom floor. Tate looks me over, and his nostrils flare. Dammit, I love it when he gets all carnal and gazes at me with pure adoration.

  “I want my cock inside you again, Summer. But first I need to warm you up in the hot tub.” I nod, and a little jolt of pleasure goes through me at the protectiveness he directs my way. I’ve always been an independent woman—had to be—and I have to say, I kind of like it when this strong, alpha man takes care of me.

  “I haven’t tried it out yet.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’ve kind of been...ah, preoccupied,” I say, and he laughs.

  He grabs a big, fluffy towel and wraps me in it, then scoops me up into his arms like I weigh nothing more than the towel
I’m wrapped in. I slide my arms around him, unable to get close enough. He walks to the bar, sets me down and turns over two brand-new glasses. He fills them both and hands them to me. I follow him to the patio door. The latch sticks, so you have to wiggle it just right, something I learned the first time I went to check out the hot tub. I’m about to tell him there’s a trick to opening it, but stop when he easily opens the door, like he’s done it a million times before. Which of course, he probably has.

  Cut it out, Summer.

  “This is going to be cold for a second,” he warns, and then gives me a wink. “But it’s so worth it.” He slides the door open, and an angry gust of wind whips through the suite. “Wait here for a second.” Stark naked, he steps outside, and I stare at his beautiful ass as he removes the cover from the hot tub. It has a privacy fence, but on the back side of my corner suite, we’re facing mountain terrain. The only one he’s going to flash is nature’s animals. I chuckle but have no idea why I find that so funny. Maybe I’m just giddy because I’m having the time of my life with this man.

  He slides the door back open and takes the drinks from me. He sets them in the drink holders then takes my hand. “Careful, the deck is a bit slippery.” Strong arms hold me as I walk outside, and I’m grateful. I so do not need to do a face-plant in front of him—with only a towel on. I release the knot holding the cotton together and toss it over one of the Adirondack chairs before I climb into the tub. Warm heat seeps into my bones, pushing back the cold.

  “This is heavenly,” I murmur, and let my head fall back onto the cushioned rest.

  Tate climbs in beside me, and I slowly turn my head to see his beautiful body before he submerges. “Now, this is more like it,” he says, then moves closer to me. “Thank you.”

  My heart misses a little beat at the sincerity in his tone. “For what?”

  “I’m glad you made me do the plunge. It was for a good cause and the kids really seemed to enjoy it. My granddad would have liked that. He’s geriatric, so...” he says, and lets his words fall off.

  I think of my patient James Carson and smile. He would have liked it, too. I can’t wait to tell him all about it when I return. I know it will bring a smile to his face to know I had a great time. Of course, I’ll probably leave out the part where I slept with the donkey.

  Tate hands me the brandy, and I take a sip. The amber liquid burns down my throat and relaxes me even more. I gaze at the rock-hard, handsome man next to me, and admire his new haircut. He now has a young, professional look about him. In fact, he resembles James when he was younger. I think back to the old pictures James showed me. His hair was always short, clean-cut, with a suit that fit him to perfection. I grin when I think about the Polaroid he used to take a selfie of us during one of my visits.

  Tate puts his hand on my thigh, and when a soft kiss lands on my forehead, my thoughts shift.

  “Warm?” he asks.

  “Very.” I close my hand over his and our fingers automatically link together, like we’ve held hands for years.

  “Have you signed me up for anything else I should know about?” he asks, his mood as mellow as mine.

  “As a matter of fact, I have.” I take another sip of brandy as he shifts and brushes his thumb over my temple, pushing my hair back.

  “Are you going to tell me?” he asks quietly.

  “Not right now,” I say, and stretch out, the warm water making me sleepy...aroused.

  “I’m an expert negotiator, you know. I can probably find a way to make you talk.” His hand slides up my thigh, and slips between my legs. They instantly fall open for him. I swear to God, the man could do anything he wants to me right about now, and I’d happily let him.

  “Toboggan races?”

  “No, but that sounds like fun,” I say, and move in my seat, trying to force him to touch me.

  “Chili cook-off?”

  “No, I’m not a great cook, but I like the idea of eating the chili.”

  “Speed skating?”

  “No,” I say, my breath coming a bit faster. “Tate...” I murmur as he toys with me.

  “Tell me, Summer, and I’ll give you what you want.”

  “You don’t play fair.”

  “All is fair in love and war, right?”

  My lids open, take in the strained look on his face. Why do I get the feeling that statement is about something else entirely? He strokes my clit, and my thoughts fall off.

  “You want more of this?” he asks.

  “Yes, please...”

  “Then I suggest you tell me what you have planned for me.”

  “If you really want to know, I was going to throw a blanket and pillow onto the floor in front of the fire and stretch out on it, stomach down.”

  “Shit.”

  “The pillow of course will go under my hips, so I can open my body to you.”

  He rewards me with a caress to my clit.

  “Mmm,” I moan.

  “I love when you make that sound.”

  “I know,” I say, and his chuckle warms me all over.

  “So you’re a tease, then?” he says, and lightly plucks at my clit.

  “Tate...”

  “I can tease, too, Summer.”

  He goes to his knees in front of me, water laps around him as his lips find mine. We kiss, and I revel in the taste of brandy on his tongue. He lifts me a bit, and the wind batters my nipples. They grow hard, and he groans when he gazes at them.

  “Put your mouth on me,” I plead, and he gives me a look that suggests my openness during sex just might be killing him. He wraps his mouth around my nipple, and my sex clenches, the sensation of hot to cold on my flesh settling deep between my legs. He breaks the kiss, and dips his finger into the brandy. The alcohol pools on his fingertip as he brings it to my nipple. He lets the drop fall and spread over my hard bud, then swirls his fingers around the outer edge of my areola.

  “Tate...that feels so good.” I let my head fall back, as he bathes my nipple in brandy, then uses the soft blade of his tongue to wipe it away. Dear God the man certainly knows his way around a woman’s body.

  “Let’s go inside. There are things I need to do to you that I can’t do out here.”

  He stands, his cock right there, and I do the only thing I can do. I lean forward and take him into my mouth. He groans as I suck on him, and I go up on one of the steps, the wind whipping over my hot body as I place his cock between my breasts and squeeze them. Tate holds my head and rocks into me, slowly moves his cock between my wet breasts. With each upward thrust, I lick his crown, and the sensation of him fucking me like this settles deep between my legs.

  “I need you inside, Summer,” he says, stepping back and lifting me to my feet.

  He climbs from the tub first and helps me out. Steam rolls off his body, as he reaches for my towel and wraps it around me. We step inside, and he closes the door, locking the world out and us in, and for a little while longer I want to live in this bubble with him. He grabs one brandy glass and fills it as I head to the bedroom to gather blankets and pillows. I return to find him flicking the switch to the propane fireplace. It goes up in a burst.

  My eyes meet his, and warm familiarity moves through me. There is something about our mellow mood, our sleepiness, that wraps around me like a favorite old blanket, and arouses deeper things in me.

  “Turn,” he says, a soft command as he swirls his finger in the air. I do as he wishes, and stand there for a moment with my back to him. He’s upon me without a sound, his body pressing against mine, his erection denting my back as his hands move to my ass. He cups my cheeks, squeezes gently then spreads me. I gasp when he bends his knees and nuzzles the long length of his cock between my cheeks. He slides his hands around my body, and cups my breasts, as my ass cheeks hug the long length of him. I stiffen a little, the position both strange and new to me. Honestly, I’
ve never had anal sex before, never trusted a man with my body like this.

  His breath ruffles my hair when he puts his mouth to my ear and whispers. “You are beautiful.” Then he’s gone from my body, leaving cold where there was once heat, and his departure leaves me aching to my core, a big gaping hole only he can fill.

  Oh God, Summer. Be very, very careful with this one.

  I take a second to pull myself together. Still not fully composed, I turn to find him picking up the brandy glass. “Come here,” he says, and crooks his fingers. I let my gaze drop to his steel erection. I crave him, need him inside me more than I need my next breath. Good God, what have I gotten myself into here?

  I step up to him, let the blanket and pillows fall to the floor. His knuckles brush mine, then slowly move up my sides, reintroducing them to my quivering body. There are no hurried fingers this time, no frenzied rush between strangers, just a slow exploration that rocks me to my core. I draw in a quick breath, and it comes out as a shuddery exhale. Never in my life have I felt so open and vulnerable...adored.

  I blink, realizing he’s asked me a question.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Why can’t I seem to get enough of you?”

  Do I dare tell him I feel the same way? That sex has never been like this with any other man before? “I think it’s the mountain air. Makes a person light-headed.” It’s the only explanation I can come up with.

  His soft, barely there chuckle falls over me, and brings on goose bumps. He turns, grabs the glass of brandy and hands it to me. “Drink.”

  I tip the glass and swallow. When I’m done, he takes the crystal from me and finishes it. We’ve had sex numerous times, so why does drinking from the same glass seem that much more intimate? He turns to pour another splash into the glass, and I go to my hands and knees, to spread out the blanket and arrange the pillows.

  His growl wraps around me, and in that instant, I realize I’ve offered up my ass to an ass man.

  “Summer,” he growls.