On His Knees Read online

  I hand her one of the bags, and she gives a finger wave to the teens before we head back outside.

  “Wait, why didn’t we eat inside?” she asks, stopping on the steps.

  I nudge her to set her into motion. “We’re going to my place.”

  She stops again, her big eyes round and curious. “You want to take this back to the staff quarters?”

  “Nope,” I say, and start walking. She hurries to catch up.

  “Then where are we going?”

  “Right over there.” I point to the private chalets at the base of the mountain.

  “Oh.” Curiosity morphs to confusion. “How...”

  “A friend lent it to me,” I say. Not a lie. “Come on. Let’s hurry before all this food gets cold.”

  We pick up the pace, and we say hello to a handful of guests headed toward the shopping district. A few minutes later I’m standing on the stoop of my granddad’s chalet, which will one day become mine. I just hope that’s a long time from now. Beside me Summer is shivering.

  I open the door, usher her in and drop my bags on the kitchen counter. “I’ll get a fire going.”

  “This place is gorgeous,” she says as she slowly spins around to take it all in. I’ve been here so many times I rarely stop to admire it. This time I look around the chalet, take it in from her eyes. On the main floor, there are two bedrooms, a four-piece bathroom and a big fireplace with a TV mounted over it. There is a full kitchen, but the one thing the eye is drawn to is the loft upstairs. I glance up, admire the stars from the overhead skylight. Many times I’ve fallen asleep under those stars.

  “Why don’t you grab us some plates and I’ll get the fire going?” She nods and walks to the kitchen. Dishes clang and cupboards bang as I bunch up old newspapers then arrange dried kindling and a few bigger logs over it. I light the paper on fire, and the wood sparks.

  She comes into the room with two plates, both loaded with food. “If I eat all this I won’t fit into my coat tomorrow.”

  “Doesn’t matter. You already look like a big marshmallow in it,” I tease.

  “Hey,” she says, and glares at me.

  Why do I keep doing that? Why do I keep teasing her like this? Oh, because I love the reaction it pulls from her. She is so sexy when she’s pretending to be mad.

  “What?” I say, feigning innocence. “I already told you I like marshmallows.”

  “I saw some in the cupboard. Maybe we can roast some later.”

  I climb to my feet just as she settles herself on the shag carpet in front of the fire. My gaze goes from her to the kitchen table back to her again. “I thought we were—”

  She taps the floor. “Come, let’s sit in front of the fire. This is such a luxury for me.”

  I drop to the floor beside her and we both cross our legs, the flames gaining strength, and creating a romantic ambiance.

  She eats an onion ring. “I can’t believe you bought all this food.”

  I pick up my cheeseburger and take a big bite. I chew and swallow. “So good, right?”

  “I think this is the best burger I’ve ever had,” she says after swallowing a bite of her own.

  “Food always tastes better after a day on the hill.” I jump up. “I need a drink. Do you want one?”

  “What do you have?”

  I go to the kitchen and open the fridge. “I have beer, wine, soda or water.”

  “What are you having?” she asks, then slides a French fry into her mouth.

  Shit.

  Keep it together, Tate. Don’t imagine that’s your dick she’s drawing to the back of her throat.

  “Beer,” I say. Is that my voice? I sound like I’m strung out on painkillers. I clear my throat. “Beer,” I say again.

  “I don’t have a hearing problem,” she says, and grins at me, like she’s well aware of what she’s doing. Christ, I’m the one who’s supposed to be seducing her, taking her to her knees, but she’s somehow taking charge of this situation and turning this around on me. “I’ll have a beer, too.”

  I grab two beers, uncap them and hand one to her as I settle back onto the floor next to her. She slides another fry in, and my pants grow two sizes too small. Get yourself back in control, and get her out the door, already.

  Easier said than done.

  I take another big bite of my burger. “So how is it you’re still single?” I ask after swallowing.

  She averts my gaze, takes another few fries and chews slowly like she’s considering my question deeply. She swallows, then takes a big swig of beer. “I could ask the same about you.”

  I shrug. “I just don’t believe in long term, or marriage,” I admit honestly. “I’ve not had great role models in my life.” My mother walked out on me, and none of my stepmothers had any interest in bonding. No, they were only in it for the money and stature. I remember Dad’s second wife, or was it his third? She absolutely despised the sight of me. Oh, she’d pretend in front of Dad, even went to a few parent-teacher meetings, but when it was just the two of us, she gave me scathing looks that let me know I was a nuisance. At least Dad didn’t ship me off to boarding school like she wanted. Yeah, I learned early on no one wanted a real relationship with me. Now, well, now I’m not about to set myself up for that kind of disappointment.

  Summer nods but doesn’t probe any deeper. “I’m not the marrying type,” she says, so quietly, so softly...with such gut-wrenching sorrow, the protector in me comes out full force. Why wouldn’t she be the marrying type? Hell, my granddad wants to marry her. At least I’m pretty sure he does. He said he wanted to bring her into the family. Thoughts of Granddad help me get myself back on track. I give myself a two-second mental lecture and remind myself why I’m eating cheeseburgers with this girl in my chalet. “I’m just...” Her head lifts, and she almost looks like she wants to make a confession. “I’m not...” Her words fall off and she pushes her plate away. “I’m full,” she says, redirecting the conversation before she takes another big pull from her beer.

  I shove my plate away, too, as she settles on her stomach, braces her elbows on the floor and cups her face in her hands. She bends her knees, points her feet toward the loft, and the sight of her like that is almost more than I can bear. I drain half the contents in my bottle with one easy swallow, hoping the liquid will cool the blood racing through my veins.

  “Why do you think you’re not the marrying type, Summer?” I push, wanting to know more about her, even though it shouldn’t matter. After tonight I don’t plan on ever setting eyes on her again.

  She rolls to her back, meets my gaze straight on as she spreads her arms, her fingers fluttering over the shag carpet. “You want to know what I think?” she asks, as dark lashes fall over lust-imbued eyes. Pink invades her cheeks, everything about her body language telling me what she wants—and that she’s playing to win.

  I am so screwed.

  “What?” I ask anyway, my gaze trailing the length of her lush body as she sprawls out in front of the fire. The sexy sight is torturous, and I must be a damn masochist, because I can’t seem to tear my gaze away.

  “What I think is, I don’t believe in long term either, Tate.” She goes up on her elbows, and the fire in the hearth behind her flares, the light glistening off the caramel highlights in her hair. Goddammit, I want to kiss her. Need to kiss her. Need to taste every inch of her body. Okay, I’m in trouble here. “But tonight...well, I don’t believe it’s about thinking. It’s about taking what you want, and what I want is you.”

  “Summer,” I begin, and take a deep breath, then another, working to keep my head on straight as all the blood rushes south. This dangerous pull toward her is messing with my ability to think straight.

  She gestures with a crook of her finger, and my resolve loosens. How can she tear me apart so easily, make me forget who I am and why I’m here?

  “Come here
...” she says, her voice a low, throbbing murmur I can’t ignore.

  Shit.

  Unable to help myself I fall over her, press her into the plush carpet. Now that I got her right where I want her, I should call her out, expose her. But in this moment, as her soft, sexy body moves beneath mine, teasing my cock and arousing me in ways no other woman ever has, only one thought drives me: getting her naked and getting my cock inside her.

  I dip my head, my lips crash over hers. I kiss her like a man starved, a man taking his dying breath. I ravage her mouth, pillage it, thrust my tongue inside to taste the depths of her. When I realize I’m going at her like an animal—a fucking caveman—I tear my mouth away, look at her kiss-swollen lips, note the way she’s panting beneath me, as lost in me as I am in her.

  “Summer,” I say, pushing her hair from her face, desperate to get myself together. Her clip falls out, and her hair tumbles free. I grip the long strands, roll them around my hand three times and tug. Her lips part, a sexy, whimpering noise catching in her throat. She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever set eyes on.

  “Tate,” she whispers, and somewhere in the back of my mind, where one working brain cell still exists, a warning light flashes.

  End this, Tate. End it now.

  “Please,” she begs again, her soft hands sliding around my back, palming my muscles and pulling me harder against her lush body. As images of us fucking infiltrate my brain, I spread her legs wider with mine, and she wraps them around my back, centering my hard cock on her sex.

  My lips go to her throat, desperate to taste her skin...between her legs. Yeah, this is all kinds of messed up. I’m not just crossing a line with her. I’m stomping on it, chewing it up and spitting it out, but holy shit, after one sweet taste I’m too far gone to turn back now.

  “Yes...” she murmurs, and I hesitate for a brief second, trying to remember why this is wrong when she once again whispers, “Please...”

  And just like that, I’m done for.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Summer

  “TATE...YES,” I murmur when he kisses my jawline, his breath like fire on my skin. His hands roam my body, explore my curves and I arch into him, wanting him to brand every inch of me. If I only have one night with this guy, I plan to make the best of it.

  I tug at his sweater, and he goes back on his heels. In typical man fashion, he reaches over one shoulder, grabs a fistful of the material, and in one smooth motion peels it over his head. Firelight glistens off his gorgeous frame and I take my time to stare at his hard body, and abs I could play a game of Plinko on. He’s absolutely breathtaking, better than I could ever have imagined.

  “Like what you see?” he asks, a small grin curling up the corner of his mouth, making him look so damn sexy. My God, I definitely won the man lottery tonight.

  “Love what I see,” I say, holding nothing back. It’s been so long since I’ve been with a man—and never with a man quite like this one—that I plan for this night to go out with a bang. I haven’t been completely honest with him about who I am, but I’ve been honest about everything else, and right now, in this moment, there is no room for anything but the truth.

  “Keep going?” I say.

  He grins. “It’s your turn.”

  I sit up and slowly pull my sweater over my head, then shake my hair out. I catch the heat in his eyes, and while I sense he wants to tear my clothes off, get me naked sooner rather than later, it’s easy to tell he’s struggling for patience, holding it together by a fine thread so he can watch me undress for him. I’m anxious to have him naked, too, to put my hands all over him, but right now he wants a show, so I’ll snap that thread later.

  His eyes drop, latch on to my breasts as I slide my hand around my back and with agonizingly slow movements, unhook my bra. I let it fall into my lap, and his breathing changes. Intense blue eyes slowly lift to mine again, and my heart lurches. Good God, I’ve never seen a man look at me with such unchecked need, such ravaging hunger. He’s going to eat me alive—wreck me.

  There’s nothing I want more.

  I work to speak, to sound like I’m in a little more control than I actually am. “Like what you see?” I ask.

  “You’re beautiful,” he says, and a little thrill goes through me. I like the way this man looks at me, like he’s going to worship every inch of my body as soon as he gets his hands on me.

  “Your turn,” I say, and point to his pants, to the bulge pressing hard against his zipper, specifically.

  He angles his head. “You want me naked, Summer?” he asks, his voice so deep and gravelly it’s almost unrecognizable.

  “Yes, please...” I choose my words carefully, getting the sense he likes hearing please on my lips.

  He pulls himself up to his full height, and I stare, mesmerized as he unhooks his pants and drags them, along with his boxers, down his legs, completely uninhibited. Not like he has a reason to have any hang-ups. The man is drop-dead gorgeous, in a suit, in jeans...especially naked.

  “You were right, you know,” I say.

  “About?” he asks, as he points at my pants, a gesture for me to get rid of them.

  “There is no competition.” I wave my hand the length of him. “And I’m going to owe you more than a drink.”

  He laughs at that, but it comes out a tortured groan when I stand, and slowly wiggle my pants down my legs, leaving only my lace thong in place.

  “Jesus,” he murmurs.

  “Something wrong, Tate?” I hook my fingers into the thin strap of my panties, and just move them around on my hips, a vicious tease, despite the fact that I’m so damn delirious with need, I can barely form a coherent thought.

  “No, Summer, everything is just about right.”

  He steps toward me, slides his hand around my back and drags me to him. His lips find mine again, and I taste the beer on his tongue when he slides it into my mouth. I whimper, sag against him and skate my hands over his hard body, palming all his sculpted muscles.

  He grips my ass, kneads it with his fingers, then inches back. Without warning, he slowly slides his big hand inside the front of my soaked panties. He moves his fingers along my folds. Unable to help myself, I buck against him shamelessly.

  “God, you’re so wet for me,” he murmurs.

  “I’ve wanted you since I first set eyes on you,” I say honestly.

  He sinks to his knees, drags me down with him, and then he takes his time to just look at me. Nearly naked and wide-open, I let him look his fill, never having been the object of a man’s affection quite like this before. A log in the fire snaps and it does something to him.

  “I need my mouth on you,” he murmurs.

  A second later, I’m on my back, and he’s on top of me, pressing me into the carpet as his scorching mouth goes to my marbled nipples.

  He licks, nibbles, draws one into his mouth, sucking so hard little hollows form in his cheeks. He cups my other breast, then treats it to the same hot tongue massage.

  “Yes, Tate, just like that,” I say, and rake my hands through his hair, holding him to me. “That feels incredible.” He moans, his cock like steel against my thigh. I move under him, tease and torment his erection as he eats at me. His breathing is labored, his breath falling over my naked flesh, turning me on even more.

  I tug at him, wanting my mouth on his body, around his cock, but he has other ideas. He kisses a path down my center, and my skin tingles everywhere his mouth touches. The growth on his jaw abrades my flesh, and his fingers press into my hips. Tomorrow I’ll be bruised and chafed, a beautiful reminder of this one-night affair. He goes to his knees, grabs both of my legs and lifts them, until my feet are pointing at the high ceiling.

  “Keep them there,” he commands in a soft voice, as he grips the lacy straps on my thong and pulls them up over my legs. He tosses them aside, and brings my legs back to the floor, spreading
them. His gaze latches on my sex, exposed and ready for him. The muscles along his jaw clench and his nostrils flare as he reaches out and lightly strokes me.

  My body practically convulses at the first sweet touch. I move, writhe, trying to force his finger to where I need it the most.

  “Such a needy girl,” he whispers, but from the way his muscles are bunching, it’s easy to tell he’s still hanging on by that thread, one I’m ready to break.

  “How could I not be?” I murmur. “Have you seen yourself?”

  He chuckles, and it vibrates through me. “I could ask you the same question.”

  “I need you to touch me, Tate.”

  He widens my sex lips. “Where do you need me to touch?” he asks, and lightly strokes my clit. “Right here?”

  “Yes,” I cry out, and briefly close my eyes to concentrate on the sensation. I fall back to the carpet, the fire licking at my skin, as he continues to stroke me. My throat dries as I gulp for air. I open my eyes as he repositions himself to lie on his stomach, his gaze latched on my sex.

  “You have the prettiest pussy,” he murmurs, the look on his face letting me know he’s going to ravage me, eat at me until I’m a quivering mess of need. His eyes lift, meet mine as he pets my sex, and in that instant, I realize he’s a man used to getting what he wants. “I’m going to ruin your sweet little pussy with my mouth. You know that, right?”

  “Oh God, yes.” My sex clenches at his dirty words. Need burns through me, amping up my temperature. I go up on my elbows to watch and my gusting breaths ruffle his too-long hair.

  “You want that, Summer? You want me to ruin this sweet little thing?”

  “Please, Tate,” I murmur, and just like that his mouth is on me, eating at my wet pussy, plundering and wrecking me with his tongue. A growl rips from his throat when he comes up for air, and then he’s kissing me again, deeper, harder, as he slides one hand out from under me. My throat tightens when one thick finger probes my opening, then finds its way deep inside me, touching me and awakening my body the way no other man ever has.