Page 47 of On His Knees

“That’s very kind of you. Let me pay for it.” The father reaches into his back pocket.

“No need.” I hand over the snow cone, and the little girl smiles at me. I stand and go back to Tate. He’s staring at me, strained blue eyes moving over my face. He’s looked at me in a lot of ways, but never like this. What is going on with him? I’m about to ask but stop when he speaks.

“He’s what?” he asks.

For a second I have no idea what he’s talking about. “Oh, he’s...a friend,” I say, not a lie. I do think of James as my friend. “Not a boyfriend, or anything like that.”

“Does he know that?”

My back starches, surprised by the question. What a strange thing to ask. “He’s fully aware of that, Tate. Believe me.”

Heavy lashes fall slowly over his eyes, and he opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but when a horse-and-sleigh comes down the lane we’re walking on, his lips pinch tight, and he holds his hand up. The driver stops, and I stand there for a moment, confused. I have no idea what he was going to say, but every instinct warns, it was something serious. I fight the impulse to ask, but I’m not sure I want to know.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Summer

IT’S LATE AFTERNOON by the time we finished our sleigh ride tour of the gorgeous town, mountains and quaint shopping district. It was a breathtaking journey, and I’m so glad I got to experience it with Tate, even though he was quiet for the most part. Then again, so was I. I’m not sure what’s on his mind, but I do know what’s on mine.

“That was a lot of fun,” I say to him, and he nods in agreement. “Do you have any other surprises?” I ask.

“I might have one or two,” he says.

“Yeah?”

His steps are fast, determined, as we walk the snow-covered path toward my suite, but he turns down the lane leading to his chalet, then casts me a quick glance. “Don’t worry, it’s something you want,” he says, and I catch a flicker of heat in his eyes. I push back the emotions twisting inside me, a storm of need and desire. One more night, and then I’ll make a clean break, get my head on straight before I go home.

We hurry along the path, and he lets us inside. I keep my coat on, my body chilled from being out in the cold for so long. Tate pulls something from his pocket before he shrugs out of his coat. He kicks his boots off, sets whatever he took from his pocket on the mantel and works quickly to start a fire. He turns to me, and holds out his hand.

“Come with me,” he says.

I have no idea where he wants to take me, but I remove my boots and blindly follow. He guides me to the bathroom, and sits on the edge of the tub. I stand before him, and he unzips my coat and slides it from my shoulders.

“I want to get you warm.”

“I’ve never showered with a guy before,” I admit.

“No?” he asks, but he doesn’t seem all that surprised.

“I’m doing lots of firsts with you, Tate.”

“Good,” he says, and pulls me to him, his strong arms around my waist as he puts his face to my stomach and breathes me in. He’s acting strange, different, his touch less physical. No matter how hard I try to fight them down, emotions stir within me, wrap around my damn heart. But I don’t say a word, instead I let him undress me. Once I’m naked, he takes off his clothes, turns the shower on and adjusts the spray.

“Tonight you’re mine,” he says. “All of you. Everywhere.”

I tremble as he guides me into the shower, the hot water warming my chilled body. In seconds his hands are on me, touching me all over. His hard cock presses against my back when he turns me and places my hands on the ceramic tile. “Don’t move,” he commands.

My heart is beating double time as he lathers his hands, and runs them all over me. The smell of his soap fills my senses, and I stand on wobbly legs as he cleans me, skating his big palms over my breasts, stopping to linger on my nipples. His teeth scrape the back of my neck, and I nearly break beneath his touch.

My eyes slip shut and my breathing changes. Everything in his touch is soft, sensual, the harsh sound of his breath in opposition to his tenderness. He slides a hand down my belly, between my legs, cups my mound and just holds me for a moment. Then he rinses the soap from his hand and two stiff fingers are inside me. My body quakes, and I move my hips, needing depth, friction, but he pulls out of me. He brings his fingers to his mouth, and tastes what he’s done to me. I whimper, desperate for more, to get his cock inside me...everywhere. I gulp at that thought. Wait, did he mean—

“Turn,” he orders.

I push off the wall and face intense eyes, and my heart nearly stalls. His nostrils flare as he hands me the soap. I lather up, and the second I put my hands on his body, his eyes pinch shut. I caress him, palm his hard muscles and take his thick, heavy cock into my hands.

“Fuck,” he says, his voice an agonized whisper. “That feels good.”

Once I have him entirely soaped, I walk into him, curl my arms around his body, and we back up until we’re under the spray. His heart pounds against my cheek, and the fast beat matches mine. The spray washes us clean, and then Tate turns the tap off. He helps me out, and wraps me in a towel before knotting one around his waist.

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