A Little Too Late (Madigan Mountain)

AVA

Earlier, Reed had seemed annoyed at my emergency call-out.

But the Reed who steps into the elevator with me back at the hotel isn’t annoyed at all.

He’s just hot.

Before the doors even slide closed, he’s stepped into my personal space and boxed me against the wall. A deep, bossy kiss follows.

Plus, he’s saving me from having a messy argument with myself over whether or not I should stay the night. Apparently, I am. And apparently, I don’t mind having that decision made for me by a guy whose hands are already unzipping my ski jacket so he can drop wet kisses onto my neck.

It feels so good that I fumble for the zipper on his coat and yank it down.

“Get it, girl,” he says as the elevator dings. “I’m going to have you on your back about thirty seconds after we get into that room.”

The promise lights me up like a flare. I grab his wrist as the doors part and tow him toward the suite. Reed opens the door with a sexy chuckle. As soon as we enter the room, he strips off his coat and tosses it on a chair.

But I’m too impatient even for that. Still wearing mine, I drop onto the sofa where I’m in the right position to unzip his fly.

“Fuuuck, honey,” he rasps as I run a hand over the firm ridge of his cock inside his boxer briefs. Then I tug his jeans down his hips.

Smart enough to take the hint, he kicks off his boots, toes off his socks, and sheds his underwear. Meanwhile, I shake off my coat.

But Reed wants more. He pulls my sweater over my head, revealing the red lace bra I’d put on for him.

“Unngh,” he says as I wrap a hand around the base of his cock.

I don’t wait. I just lean in and lick a stripe from base to tip. Then I tease the sensitive underside of his cockhead with my tongue.

He wraps my hair around his hand and groans.

This is how we used to be with each other—wild and free. And I haven’t felt like this ever since.

He and I have some kind of special magic together. It unchains all my hesitations, and it calms all my fears. I don’t understand it. But right this moment I don’t really care. I’m too busy weighing his cock on my tongue, tasting the briny essence of him, and then taking him to the back of my throat.

Reed lets out a string of whispered curses, his fingers cupping the back of my neck. Then he groans, low and guttural, and the sound sends a zap of electricity through my veins.

I’m living for this moment. When I close my eyes, my heart beats to the tune of firelight and snow-flecked kisses.

Above me, Reed curses again. I release him as he begins to haul me upward, lifting me off the floor, tossing me over his shoulder, and striding towards the bedroom.

I land a moment later, bouncing gently on the comforter. Reed’s hands are already unbuttoning my jeans. “Christ,” he whispers, revealing the matching red lace panties. “You’re killing me.”

Kicking off the jeans, I smile up at him. Then I roll, prying the comforter loose. “We have to take this off the bed. I happen to know how much these things cost.”

“I hope you paid up for the sturdy kind of headboard, because it’s about to get a workout.” He hoists his turtleneck over his head, and I get an action-packed view of his chest rippling.

Now he’s magnificently naked and climbing onto the bed. He covers my body with his and kisses me like… Well, like he’s missed me for ten years.

He kisses me deeply, and I arch up into his body. Then I run my hands up and down his back, trying to memorize the slide of his skin against mine. I should try to remember every detail of this time together. Because it won’t last.

But—even as my heart aches—I’m hoping against all odds that it will.

Sometime after midnight, Reed and I collapse into a satisfied heap. I relax against his body, drifting on my own thoughts. My mind turns, for some reason, to Block’s plot of land and what I might build there instead of a monstrosity of hotels.

In my mind’s eye, there’s a modest group of contemporary condos. They’d be constructed of natural materials, terraced to blend into the mountain. And the parking area would need to be camouflaged. Or—even better—underground.

“Food trucks. And an amphitheater,” Reed says sleepily.

I lift my head from his chest. “What?”

“The downtown development in Penny Ridge—it could be a good community space all year round, right? An amphitheater for concerts in the summer. And a drive circle for food trucks.”

I stare into his brown eyes for a long beat. “I was just mentally tunneling underground to hide the parking area.”

Reed smiles slowly. “I find you so attractive right now.”

“Likewise.” I run a finger across his bottom lip. “Tell me more about these food trucks, hunk.”

That’s how we end up staying awake far too long doing something even more dangerous to my heart than sex—we’re dreaming about the future. Ski lifts. Community spaces. A halfpipe. Nothing is too good for our imaginary utopia.

Eventually we pass out in his bed. I sleep like a rock until morning when a ringing phone wakes us both.

The ring tone is “Big Boss Man” by the Grateful Dead.

“That’s yours,” I slur into the pillow.

Reed groans. He doesn’t get up to answer it, though. He waits it out. And when it finally stops ringing, he lets out a sleepy sigh. “You know how I can tell I’m not twenty-two anymore?”

“Because you go to work in a tie? Because you use words on the phone like, ‘series B valuation’?”

He turns his head on the pillow and smiles at me. And I feel instantly warm inside. “That’s all true, but I was thinking about my stamina.”

“Hey—no issues there.” I’m sore in some places that I’d forgotten could be sore.

“Mmm.” He shifts his legs under the covers. “But these days my bad knee aches the morning after a workout.”

“By ‘workout,’ do you mean hoisting me up to Block’s window?” I ask. “Or do you mean the time you spent on your hands and knees while we were…” I clear my throat.

I can hear the smile in his voice when he answers. “Both. Although I have no regrets.”

“That’s a relief.” I reach under the covers and slide my hand down his muscular thigh, feeling the hair crackle under my palm.

“A little to the left,” he says huskily.

“I’m not looking for your joystick. I’m trying to rub your knee.”

“Well, fine. I’ll take it,” he says, bending his knee to make this easier.

I’d already noticed the surgical scar, and I rub my thumb across it before digging gently into the muscle above his kneecap with my fingertips.

He makes an appreciative noise.

“Was it terrible?” I ask. “When you got hurt?”

“The tear was pretty awful, but the surgery wasn’t so bad.”

“No,” I say quietly. “I mean when you had to give up ski racing.”

“Oh.” He reaches over and palms my thigh. “Yes and no. I had already applied to business school, because I sensed I wasn’t on the cusp of a world cup breakout career. I needed a backup plan.”

“That’s smart. It must have helped cushion the blow.”

“Probably. But Ava, I was already so numb by then. It was just another loss. I hadn’t done a great job processing the first two, so losing skiing just seemed like one more thing. I was dropping pieces of myself all over the place, and not dealing with any of them. But you need to know…” He moves his hand up until his palm rests directly on my bare belly. “I regret making you feel, even for one moment, that I was relieved to lose our child.”

The sensation of his warm palm against my stomach makes me go still. I cover his hand with mine.

Then I remember to breathe.

Once upon a time, this was how we sat together. When I was pregnant, we spent many hours like this—his hand poised right there, like he was touching both of us. I remember it now so clearly.

I guess I already knew he’d loved us both. I’d felt it then, and it wasn’t a lie. But after he left me, I’d been so devastated.

It wasn’t right for him to let me go, and it broke me. But he’d been broken already, and he wasn’t able to put into words how badly he was hurting.

I get that now.

“Do you ever wonder,” Reed whispers, “whether it was a boy or a girl?”

“Just all the time,” I admit.

He kisses the side of my face, and I let myself relax. His hand remains a warm weight on my belly. He doesn’t let go.

Our silence is eventually interrupted by the phone ringing again. “Do you have to get that?”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “My boss is having a freakout about some paperwork that didn’t come back. And I have to figure out if it’s a big deal or not.”

“That sounds thorny.”

“It’s probably nothing, but I need to deal.” He slides out of bed, and I feel immediately lonely. I’d forgotten what it’s like to be so viscerally aware of another person, and how I feel more alive when he walks into a room.

It’s not merely sexual. Although, when he emerges a minute later with his toothbrush, I lose a few IQ points from the spectacular view. “This breakfast with the Sharpes—I’m probably going to be late. It’s just as well, because I probably can’t fake my attitude with them,” he says before disappearing again.

“You can skip it. I’ll go.” I roll out of bed and shake off my hormone rush. “I’m planning to ask them all sorts of questions about the drive to Denver, and the restaurant they supposedly went to. I’m going to make them lie to my face.”

“You’re more patient than I am,” Reed grumbles through a mouth of toothpaste.

I’m not patient, but I do have an agenda. I’m awfully worried about how this will play out. “Can I have the first shower? I don’t want to roll up to breakfast looking like I just rolled out of bed with you.”

He smiles at me. “That’s a good look on you. But sure.”

Reed was right. It’s excruciating to sit across from the Sharpes while Trey lies about his evening.

“Denver is a real nice city. I’d love to see it in better weather. Slow going on the highway in the snow, but I got the job done.” He passes the keys across the table to me. “Would you see that your fella gets these, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart? I want to grab him by the striped tie and choke him with it. “Sure,” I say through a tight jaw. “Will do.”

The worst part isn’t even the lying. Or the way I’ve been called “little girl” by the eldest Sharpe, “honey” by the middle one, and “sweetheart” by the youngest. The worst part is the way Mark is sitting there with a stoic expression on his face, calmly sipping his coffee as if we aren’t breakfasting with monsters.

“So what does your timeframe look like?” Mark asks. “I’d like to get the contract signed before the holidays.”

He sounds awfully convincing. Too convincing.

“That we can do,” Grandpa Sharpe says. “We’ll let the lawyers do their thing, and we’ll give you an update before the end of next week. Let you know where we’re at.”

“I’d appreciate that,” Mark says. “You’re going to do great things with the place. I can feel it.”

The pancakes I’ve eaten have already turned to lead in my stomach. But now they’re turning to battery acid. I push my cup of coffee away with a jittery hand and wave over the server so I can sign our check and add a tip.

I’ve got to get away from this table.

“Well, ladies and gents, we’d best be getting on the road,” Trey says, checking his phone. “Our limo is waiting outside.”

“Don’t let us keep you,” I say, sliding back my chair in a big hurry and rising to my feet. I want to bolt for the door, but I force myself to walk the Sharpes through the lobby and toward the entrance.

If I’m lucky, I’ll never see their faces again.

“I’ll be in touch about your employment contract,” Trey says. Then he gives me a wink.

“Thank you,” I say with as much sweetness as I can muster. Which is very little. I hold out my hand to shake, and then I tell the biggest lie of my life. “It will be a real pleasure working with you.”

He gives me a full body scan, then smiles. “Likewise.”

I feel nauseated.