“Watch me fill you,” he whispered gruffly. Then he adjusted her body and his before he pushed inside her hard and fast. The sudden pressure of him filling her completely made her gasp and throw her head back.

  “Oh God…” she moaned as he sank fully into her, their hips slamming against each other’s.

  “That’s it, babe. Take me deep, you feel fucking amazing,” he growled as he withdrew and rammed back into her almost violently.

  This was what she needed. A wild, frantic fucking that had no boundaries, no polite expectations. It was raw, unfiltered and rough, and everything she’d never had before but always hungered for. She opened her legs wider to take him deeper inside her. They set a driving rhythm which built and built until she couldn’t take it anymore. She came so hard she saw stars and nearly blacked out screaming his name. Roarke kissed her neck and then bit her shoulder lightly as he hammered into her, and her skin absorbed his shout as he came.

  For a second she clung to him, feeling adrift, lost in the vast sea of something new and frightening that had been unleashed inside her.

  Roarke panted against her neck, his breath warm. The shower continue to spill hot water over their heated bodies. They were still in the shower, still pressed skin to skin in their own little private world. She never wanted to leave this small space so long as she was in his arms. She was undone … unmade … she could barely string a single coherent thought together.

  “You okay?” he asked her after a moment. He was still inside her, still connected, and the intimacy of that after everything she’d felt toward him for years was strange.

  “I … yes.” She tucked her head against his shoulder, secretly hiding her face from him as she came to terms with what she had just done.

  She’d had sex with Roarke Covington, Chicago’s resident bad boy lawyer. If her father knew, he would be furious. If Thad, Angelo and Jared knew, they would also be worried for her and pissed off at Roarke. What if—

  “Hey, babe.” Roarke lifted her head up with his hand and stroked her lips with his thumb. “Don’t think, don’t worry. Just feel, at least tonight.”

  How did he know what to say to her to calm the race of thoughts that sometimes shouted so loud in her head, it made her sick? He really was a dark prince casting his spell on her.

  He kissed her forehead and then he slowly withdrew from her body, but he didn’t let go of her as he lowered her back to her feet. She thought he would turn the shower off but instead he washed her, his hands gentle as he smoothed the lathering soap over her body. Emboldened by him, she did the same and washed him. She lathered his body, enjoying the feel of his muscles, the beautiful lines that formed his body, and she found it a calming experience like nothing else. To touch and be touched. To feel tenderness and to give tenderness to another person. She hadn’t realized how lonely she had been until now.

  Suddenly her eyes were burning with tears, and she was choking back a sob.

  “Oh … babe, come here.” He pulled her flush against him, wrapping her tight in his arms.

  “I’m sorry—” she hiccupped. “I’m not upset. I don’t know why I’m crying,” she tried to say between sobs. He gently fisted a hand in her hair at the nape of her neck so she couldn’t look away from his eyes.

  “Never apologize for what you feel when you’re with me.”

  “It’s just been so long since … since anyone…” She didn’t have the strength to finish. Roarke’s eyes were deep and all-consuming as he looked at her.

  “Let me love the lonely out of you,” he murmured.

  She nodded, desperate for him to continue to make her feel everything she’d not felt in years.

  “For the next few days, you’re mine, and for however long you want me after that. You don’t ever have to feel lonely again, Shana.”

  In answer, she rocked up on her tiptoes and kissed him.

  He’d always guessed that Shana Pimms would be the death of him. He remembered the first day he ever saw her. He’d been sitting on the grass in front of the law library just enjoying the moment with no questioning professors, no endless pages of tort cases to read or brief. He was simply in the moment. His parents had hated that he’d chosen to go to Creighton’s School of Law. In Nebraska. Why would he ever want to go to a midwest school for farmers? Those had been his father’s words. Roarke couldn’t have explained his choice even if he wanted to.

  Ever since he had met Thad, Angelo and Jared at prep school, he’d seen a different side of life. He’d seen loyal friendships and what a gift hard work and dedication to something could give a person. He wanted to be a part of their world, not the one he’d been born into. So he followed Jared to Creighton, despite knowing he would never really convince Jared to let him be a friend. Still, he had wanted to try, like a lonely kid who sees a happy family celebrating Christmas while he’s on the outside, in the cold, looking into the window on a family he would never have.

  One moment he was stretched out on the warm grass, and the next his world had tilted on its axis as Shana stepped out of the building just across the path from him. She had fucking glowed. There was no other word for it. The sun shone brighter down on her than anyone else. Hell, he was convinced he’d heard a choir of angels singing too, as she’d broken into a smile. She was heavenly.

  He’d gotten to his feet, awestruck but determined to walk up to her and ask her out. But before he could reach her, she’d walked into the arms of another man who picked her up and spun her about, making her squeal before the man kissed her. When their lips parted and Roarke had a chance to see the man’s face, his world had been overcast in instant shadows.

  Of course she was Jared’s girl. His hopes had crashed and burned in one epic freefall that had hardened his heart further, making him colder inside than he’d ever been before.

  Three years… That was a long time to watch Shana and Jared break up and get back together over and over again. Each time, a glimmer of traitorous hope burned like a small ember in his chest as he sought Shana out, trying to make her give them a chance. But she never really saw him. It was like he was a ghost, a flickering image in the corner of her vision. She had only ever had eyes for one man, and that had never been him.

  But right now, in this very moment … he, not Jared, had Shana in his arms for the first time, and he hoped not for the last. His beautiful girl had been lonely. He had seen the ache in her eyes as she cried in his arms. She had damned near broken his heart with her tears. He had meant what he had said to her. He would love the lonely out of her. He would touch her, caress her, kiss her, make love to her over and over until she wasn’t lonely anymore. She deserved to be with a man who worshiped her—but not from afar. Rather, she needed a man who would give anything to be a part of her life, the highs and the lows, the laughter and tears. He wasn’t a hero; he wasn’t a knight in shining armor. He was simply the man who had always loved her. He would likely never get the chance to tell her that, or even prove it to her, but he would take what few graciously granted days he could have with her.

  He shut off the water and opened the shower door.

  “Stay there,” he told her and then retrieved two large, fluffy white bath towels from the rack above the toilet. He wrapped one around his waist, and then he unfolded the second one and held it up like a blanket to wrap around her as she stepped out of the shower. She turned her back to him and he wrapped it around her body and hugged her from behind.

  “How…” Her voice still held a tiny, emotional hitch in it. “How are you this nice?” she asked in complete and total bafflement.

  “I’ve always been this nice … when it comes to you.” He kissed her cheek. “Take your time in here. I’ll change outside. Do you need anything from your bag?”

  “Um… my pink cotton underwear and the silk PJ set on the top of my clothes when you open the suitcase.”

  “I’ll get them,” he assured her. Then he left the bathroom and found what she needed and placed them in her arms. She lifted her eyes up to meet his, and he fell into her blue gaze, dizzying in their depths. For such a quiet woman, she spoke volumes with those dazzling eyes. He wanted to spent the rest of his life discovering the mysteries in her.

  “Thanks.” Her cheeks turned red, and he smiled. They both knew she needed a minute to herself after what had happened between them in the shower.

  She closed the door, and he stripped off his towel and threw on some pajama pants. He was towel drying his hair when she opened the bathroom door again. His eyes landed on her legs—beautiful, muscled legs that went on for days. He was a leg man, and Shana had the best legs. She wore pink and black polkadot silk shorts and a short sleeve button-up matching top. Her blonde hair, still damp, hung in burnished gold tendrils down her shoulders. She was adorable and sexy. He wanted to tumble her back into the bed and take her again, but he also wanted her to have a little space. Coming at her too strong and too fast wouldn’t be good for either of them.

  She lifted up her cell phone. “Should we text Jared about the other side not being able to get here for the meeting?”

  “Yeah, I’ll text him. Do you need anything?” He peeled back the sheets to his bed, and she tiptoed over to her bed and did the same.

  “No, I think I’m good.” She tucked herself beneath her sheets. He reached for his phone before he got into his own. He sent Jared and Thad a group text.

  Roarke: The other side of our deal was a no-show. They got snowed in at the airport in Berlin.

  He had just set down the phone when it vibrated.

  Thad: Seriously?

  Roarke: Yep. Weather is bad here too, so Shana and I are stuck at least for another couple of days.

  Jared: If you aren’t a gentlemen, Covington…

  Roarke chuckled before he replied.

  Roarke: I’ll be whatever Shana wants me to be.

  “What are you telling them?” Shana asked.

  He glanced over her. She lay down, her head propped in one hand as she watched him with no small amount of concern.

  “I just told them that we would be here for a few more days. No need for us to rush home. Not me, anyway.”

  Her brows rose at that. “You don’t have any Christmas plans?”

  He set his phone down on the small nightstand between their two beds. “Nope. You?”

  “Nope,” she echoed. “My dad works practically every single day of the year and my mom … she lives a life of her own. Dad and I aren’t really a part of it.”

  “Sounds a lot like my family,” Roarke said. He leaned back against the headboard and folded his arms behind his head.

  “It kind of feels like we’re at summer camp.” Shana suddenly giggled.

  “Oh yeah? Did you go to a lot of camps as a kid?” he asked, genuinely curious. He had never been to any. Rich kids went to prep schools, which were like worse versions of summer camps. Instead of a month of being picked on by other kids, it was a full year of torture from upper-class bullies.

  “Once, when I was fourteen. A girl in our cabin snuck her boyfriend in. I had the bunkbed above them.”

  “Oh God, that sounds awkward.” He turned on his side to face her.

  She laughed. “It was. It really was. Thank God we don’t have bunkbeds. I forgot I was on the top bunk and rolled off one night. It hurt like hell. I banged my knees and elbows.”

  “No shit,” he chuckled. “Now I’m really glad we don’t have bunkbeds. The only banging I want you to do is with me.”

  She laughed and threw one of her extra pillows at him. It was too easy to tease her, and he liked seeing her laugh.

  “Ready for me to turn off the light?”

  She nodded and he clicked the lamp on the nightstand off.

  “Maybe tomorrow we could … push the beds together?” she suggested in the dark.

  Roarke grinned. “Yeah, maybe we could.”

  4

  Shana stretched and yawned as she soaked in the warmth of the bright morning light that bathed her bed. Puzzled, she realized this didn’t feel like her bed; it was softer than normal. Her body was sore—but it was a good kind of soreness. The kind a person got when they’d been active the day before, both out of bed and in bed. When she extended a bare leg out from beneath her fluffy covers, she remembered how she’d gotten so sore, and the heated memory tugged her lips into a smile.

  A deep masculine chuckle had her eyes flying open.

  Roarke Covington leaned against the wall opposite her twin bed in the Swiss hotel room they shared. Her cheeks flamed as she remembered how much they’d shared the previous night, and her belly flip-flopped at the deliciousness of it. Leveraging herself onto her elbows, she regarded the well-dressed man who stood before her: dark jeans and a black sweater that clung to his body and made her nipples pebble under her silk pajama shirt.

  “Good morning, beautiful.” He smiled at her and lifted a mug of coffee to his lips. The scent of an expensive dark roast drifted from the cup. It smelled divine.

  She blushed with delight at being called beautiful because when Roarke said it, it meant something more meaningful than if any other man had called her beautiful. He wasn’t just a man throwing out a pet name from habit. When he said the word, it seemed like he was really seeing her for who she was.

  “How long have you been awake?” She delicately tucked her bare leg back beneath the covers.

  “An hour. I brought you breakfast.” He nodded at a tray that rested on the table between their beds.

  “Thank you! That was nice.” She scooted into a sitting position and reached for the tray. Breakfast in bed. She’d never had that before. The tray was laden with pastries and orange juice, as well as a bowl of oatmeal dusted with pecans and brown sugar.

  “Is this a cherry?” she asked as she took a nibble of the Danish. Sweet cherries burst with delicious flavor on her tongue.

  “I remember once that you said you liked them,” Roarke said.

  His admission warmed her, and she lifted her eyes from the gooey pastry to smile directly at him.

  “I do.” She licked her lips and took another bite before continuing to speak. “My grandfather loved Danishes. We always used to eat them together when I saw him on the holidays.” She missed her grandfather. Her heart still hurt in the shape of his absence, feeling that emptiness he’d left behind. “He was my favorite person in the entire world.”

  Roarke pushed away from the wall and sat down on the edge of her bed.

  “Why was he your favorite?”

  “He was a lawyer too, but one of those classy old lawyers. He always wore a three-piece suit to court. He was the kind of man who opened doors for women out of respect. And he liked me. He didn’t think I was a waste of time or a disappointment. When I told him I wanted to be a lawyer just like him, he spent a month teaching me how to read and brief cases before law school so I’d be prepared ahead of time.”

  Her throat tightened as she spoke. She never talked about her grandfather. And given the rocky relationship between him and her father, once he’d passed away, she’d had little time alone to grieve. Her father had pushed her straight into work, trumping her feelings and needs yet again for billable hours.

  “Is he still…” Roarke asked.

  “No. He passed away three years ago. My grandmother had been his whole world. She got Alzheimer’s a few years before she died and she was … lost.”

  Roarke scooted a little closer. “Lost?”

  “When someone you love suffers from dementia or Alzheimer’s, it’s like the person they were gets lost somehow. We used to visit her, and I would sit there and hold her hand. She would look at me, her eyes just endlessly, wordlessly searching for answers. It hurt me, but seeing my grandfather with her … it was like I’d seen a priceless vase shattered. You could collect all the pieces, but you can never put the vase back together the way it had once been.” She paused, her voice breaking a little.

  “He would play music for her on an old record player when he visited her in the memory ward. They used to love to dance. After she fell ill, they couldn’t; she’d forgotten how. But he would sit there and hold her hand and speak softly, telling her about all the grand nights they’d shared together. He loved her so deeply that for three years his love was strong enough for the both of them, but one night she slipped quietly away, leaving him behind. I think he felt betrayed by his own heart, that it dared to keep beating after she was gone. He only made it a year before he followed her.”

  She’d never talked about this with anyone before. And as much as the words hurt to say, it felt therapeutic to talk about it with Roarke. He was a good listener.

  “I’m sorry I never got to meet him.” Roarke’s reply was honest, which made the sting of talking about her grandfather’s death hurt far less.

  She wiped away a few stray tears and tried to smile. “He would’ve liked you. He had a soft spot for rebels.”

  “I’m a rebel?” Roarke chuckled.

  She ate a few spoonfuls of oatmeal. “Oh yes, a total rebel. Considering who your family is and what they probably expected of you, you still went to a midwest law school. You work in Chicago and do things your way.”

  “And to hell with what anyone thinks,” he added with a cocky grin.

  “Exactly.”

  She finished off her cherry Danish and sipped her orange juice. “Did you eat anything?” She licked frosting off her fingers.

  “I did, downstairs. I didn’t want to wake you. You were sleeping so peacefully.”

  “Oh…” It would have been nice to have breakfast in bed with him, but she didn’t say that. It might make her sound needy or silly.

  He leaned in and brought her fingers to his lips. He sucked the remnants of the sweet frosting off her fingertips—and just like that, her body burned with fresh desire.

  “Get dressed. Wear something warm that you can move in,” he said as he got up off the bed.

  “What? Why?”

  “We are going to see a glacier.”

  “A glacier? They have one here?”

 

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