Kiss of Ice (St. James Family) (8 page)

Chapter 11

The snowflakes began to fall softly as they left the restaurant. Christophe was silent on the ride home and Annata ignored him. She didn't want to think about Christophe. Or William or New York. The driver took his time maneuvering through the streets of Paris and Annata let the silence sink in. She watched the snowflakes fall outside, trying not to think about Julie's words in the restroom.

By the time they arrived back at the hotel, Annata was ready to crawl into a chair with a hot cup of chamomile tea and watch the city slowly disappear under white from her window. The solitary flakes had begun swirling and sticking and multiplying.  An inch of snow had already collected on the ground. She teetered on her tiptoes, trying to avoid getting her feet wet. Christophe breezed past her, a scowl on his face. She hit a patch of frozen ground and her right foot slipped under her. Instantly, Christophe was right next to her, his arm around her waist, steadying her. She gripped the lapels of his wool coat and tossed her head back and laughed, her voice echoing across the courtyard.

“
Are you drunk?” he asked, his brow furrowed.

“
No.” She stuck out her tongue at him and righted herself. She didn't try to move away from him and he didn't let go of her, so they walked together to the entrance. She tossed a look over her shoulder. The snow wasn't letting up. It was only falling harder and faster. He steered her into the elevator and jabbed the button for the 12
th
floor. As soon as the doors closed, he pushed her against the cold, mirrored wall. He slammed his palms against the wall on either side of her, caging her in.

“
You're infuriating,” he said through gritted teeth.

“
Good,” she replied, then took his face in her hands and kissed him hard. His arms snaked around her and crushed her against him. She raked her tongue over his. He tasted of wine. His skin was cold and smelled liked winter. He shoved his knee as far as her skirt would let him between her legs. She moaned. Everything about him was too much. He was so big and so beautiful. Time seemed to stand still as they clung to each other. The rush of emotion she felt was terrifying but she didn't let go. She wanted to crawl into his skin.

He pulled away and dragged his mouth down her jaw to her throat. His lips sent bolts of electricity down her spine. Her knees started shaking and she could feel her panties getting wetter. A lump raised in her throat and she didn't know whether she was going to come or cry. When she couldn't take anymore, she raked her hands through his hair and gripped a clump of it. She pulled his head back up so she could capture his lips again.  He growled and held her tighter, so tight she could barely breathe. But she didn't care.

The elevator slowed as it reached the twelfth floor. Christophe disentangled himself from her as the doors opened. Annata exited first and hurried down to her room. She felt Christophe behind her, moving silently across the thick carpet. Feeling his eyes on her was the biggest turn-on. She could feel the slickness between her legs. She knew he wanted to fuck her again, and the thought warmed her. She swiped the card and finally was back inside the hotel room. He closed the door behind him. She kept her back to him and tossed her purse and key on the table. The room was dark except for the white light streaming in through the floor to ceiling plate glass windows.

They were alone again. The quiet enveloped them. He closed the space between them and rolled her coat off of her shoulders. He tossed it on the chair. His coat followed.  His hands skimmed up her hips and back and then he caught the zipper at the neck of her dress, under her hairline. She held her breath as he unzipped her down to her ass. She felt cool air on her skin and shivered as he ran a fingertip down her spine.

“Why do you always think the worst of me?” he asked in a low tone.

“
Hmm?” she murmured, her brain foggy.

“
I tell you I'm coming back to New York, and you think I'm making some kind of strategic move,” he said, spreading the open panels of her dress further apart, exposing more of her skin to his gaze. “Did you ever think...” he trailed off, snapping the clasp on her bra open. “...that I was moving back for you?”

“
The thought didn't cross my mind.” She managed to get out. “Is that why you were acting like an asshole at dinner? Because you were trying to show me how much you care?” she drawled. In a fluid movement, he caught her lightly around the throat with one hand. She stiffened, then relaxed into his warm grip, lust flooding her veins. She felt her body molding to his. The snow swirled around outside the windows.

“
Goddamn you.” He yanked down the front of her dress, exposing her breasts and  trapping her arms  to her sides by the partially fallen dress. “It's all for you,” he whispered in his ear as he flexed his fingers around her throat. She hoped he could feel the blood pumping there through her skin. She nearly swooned.  She leaned against him for support, her knees weak.  She hated feeling so weak, but then again, she loved being at his mercy. She was his tonight, no matter how fleeting the feeling was.

He disentangled her strapless bra from her arms and tossed it onto the floor. He cupped the weight of her left breast, rolling her nipple between his thumb and middle finger. He moaned and she could feel his hardness against her ass. “I love your tits,” he breathed. He tweaked her nipple and she gasped sharply. He chuckled in her ear, harshly. Then he dropped his hand and squeezed her bottom. “I love your ass.” He slapped her ass then, hard enough to sting. She bit down hard on her lip. His nose nuzzled against her neck. “Do you like that?” he whispered.

She moaned, her mouth not forming around words.  He dropped the hand from her throat and worked to free her from the rest of her clothes. With a shove from him, her dress was a puddle at her feet, and her panties down around her ankles. She stood before him in only her shoes and her jewelry. She tried to turn around to face him, but he didn't let her. He gripped her hips and pushed her forward, until she was against the plate glass window. She gasped when her nipples met the cold glass. He pushed her legs apart with his foot. She was open to him and completely vulnerable. He ran the palms of his hands from her shoulders to her ass. She felt herself arching into his touch.

She pressed her forehead against the glass, panting. She felt his finger slide inside her roughly and she gritted her teeth. She could feel how impatient he was. He wanted her now, and the thought made her even hotter. “You're so wet,” he rasped and withdrew his finger. She heard him unzipping his pants and fumbling with the foil packet of the condom. In a flash, he was poised at her entrance. She felt the head of his hard cock slide down her lips and against her clit. “Is this good enough for you?” He asked hoarsely.  Her heavy breathing was fogging the window in front of her. She nodded, impatiently. She knew from this angle, he would feel so big inside her. Maybe too much. She angled herself against him, wanting as much of him as she could take. He parted her lips with his cock. She flattened her palms on the window, waiting for him.

With one movement, he forced himself into her up to the hilt. White flashes burst behind her eyelids. He was so big. She'd never felt so full. A ragged cry escaped her lips. He withdrew and then ground back in, her body sensuously stretching around him. She braced herself against the window with her hands, her nails clawing the glass. He gripped her hips and quickened his pace. She felt her body stiffen, crackling with tension. It was too much. She was feeling too much. Nerves were firing off all over her body. “Is my cock good enough for you?”

“
Yes.” She moaned. “It's so good.” He leaned against her, the starched linen of his shirt scratching against her back. She felt a tremor run the length of her spine and she involuntarily clenched her muscles around him. Her skin was so sensitive, the slightest touch felt like a spark. He bucked against her.

“
Fuck!” he hissed. Suddenly she was empty, as he pulled out. He grabbed her arm and flung her onto the bed. She landed on her back on the mattress, her legs flopping open wide. He was on her in an instant, his warm mouth crushing against hers. Her head was spinning. She felt punch-drunk. He broke the kiss and trailed his mouth down her throat. Down the valley between her breasts. He tossed his white shirt over his head and then dipped his head to taste her pussy. She screamed as he sucked her clit and opened herself wide to him. She positioned her heeled foot against his shoulder, her knee brushing her stomach.

He sucked and licked her into oblivion. She didn't think it was possible to be more wet than she was right then. She was so close. Her toes were curled in her shoes and her muscles were clenched so tight, her back arched. He released her from his mouth and rolled his thumb over her swollen clit. She opened her mouth, but no sound escaped. She was unable to scream anymore. Her throat felt like cotton.

“Look at me,” he said. She realized her eyes were closed and she opened them. She locked eyes with him as he thrust his cock back inside her. She bucked against him, unable to stop herself. He felt so
good
. He straightened her leg against his chest, kissing her ankle. Her heel rested against his shoulder. He ground against her, then pulled out, until only his head was inside her. “You're the only one,” he whispered. She felt her heart stop.

Then he slammed into her again and again. The way they fit together was heavenly. She tangled her hands in the sheets as he fucked her so perfectly. Something shattered inside her, breaking into a million pieces. Her sight went blurry as she came with an intensity she'd never felt before. Her ears were ringing, and her toes pointed. She gripped him deep inside and he bucked into her. Her heartbeat drummed in her ear. She could feel him explode inside her. He called out, saying something that she didn't understand. Her ears were muffled. The darkness was enveloping her. She felt his fingers on her face, stroking her cheek. She felt his weight next to her. He pulled her against his warmth. She felt so safe in his arms. She let herself go and faded into black.

***

Christophe held Annata close. His heartbeat returned to normal as her breathing slowed. He didn't want to let her go. How was every time with her better than the last? In the midst of his earth-shattering orgasm, he almost screwed everything up and shown his hand. Christ. She was quiet next to him. He wondered if she knew. He wondered if his eyes had given him away. He must look like a love-sick fool when he was around her. The anger he'd felt earlier that night had faded away, and now all he felt was the afterglow of the best orgasm of his life. He pulled the down comforter over her and tucked her in. He slipped off her shoes and set them on the carpet beside the bed. He unclasped her necklace and put it on the bedside table, along with her heavy earrings. Then he undressed and slipped back into the warm bed and kissed her until she was asleep.

Time passed—he didn't know or care how how much. The sky was dark and heavy and the snow kept falling. It was almost as if they existed, alone, in an alternate universe. He chuckled. For him, that was wishful thinking. Tomorrow, they would be back in New York and Annata would find every reason to brush him off. But tonight, he could hold her. He could touch her. The world outside was quiet. Only the occasional wind gust broke through the reverie. He kissed the hollow of her throat. Her perfume lingered there and he buried his nose in her neck. He wanted to remember how she smelled and how she felt—and the warmth of her skin.

He loved her. He supposed he'd already known. It had just taken a kick in the balls to see it. He wanted to scream it from the rooftops. He loved Annata St. James. He loved her wit and her anger and her drive. And of course, he loved her body. He trailed his hand across her hip, possessively. She was, without a doubt, the sexiest woman he had ever known. He couldn't suppress a laugh. He still couldn't quite believe that she was letting him touch her.

Beside him, she moaned. He felt his dick perk up at the sweet sound. He was ready for another go at her. With a devilish smile, he ran his teeth down the soft part of her arm. She moaned again and rolled to face him. She pressed her cheek against his chest and settled against him. Her breasts were smashed against him, which didn't help his emerging erection in the least. He bit her shoulder, trying to force her eyes open. When she still didn't wake up, he dipped his head to whisper in her ear. “Annie.” He drew out her name. “Annie, baby, wake up.” She burrowed her head into his chest. He laughed. “Annie, you're missing the snow.”

That got her. She raised up on her elbows and turned her head to the window. Not being able to keep his hands off her, he went to work, removing the pins from her up-do. She purred and rolled her head into his hands. “It's so peaceful,” she murmured. He uncoiled her hair and ran his fingers through the jet black strands.

“Why did you stop wearing your braids?” he asked. She shrugged, her face still to the window.

“
Too ethnic,” she answered. “I didn't think anyone was taking me seriously. Besides, I wore them during college, and I felt like I needed to look like a grown woman.”

“
They were sexy,” he said.

“
Exactly.” She turned tossed a look over her shoulder. “After we...” She waved her hand, not wanting to define exactly what had happened between them all those years ago. He was happy to define it for her.

“
After I fucked your brains out in your office?” he asked, matter-of-factly. She giggled, sounding young.