Après ski drinks and dinner were a nuisance that Ren wished away with some fervour, even though the brazier flickered invitingly on the terrace as the sun dropped behind the mountain ridges. Predictably, her grandmother ushered her inside when darkness fell, but she stared after Sacha, wanting to cling to the feeling of fearlessness she’d found with him on the slopes – and in that kiss.
Grandmama and Charlie’s parents got talking about the merger over the raspberry parfait, but the discussion made Ren feel numb. She’d panicked two weeks ago, worried the merger would fall through now the truth about her broken relationship with Charlie was out, but she struggled to muster any enthusiasm for the apparent reconciliation. God, Ziggy and her grandmother owed Sacha so much more than they’d ever admit for deflecting the media attention off the break-up. She couldn’t let him pay too high a price for getting involved with her.
Charlotte dragged Charlie out to a bar. Ren was thankful they didn’t even ask if she and Sacha wanted to join them, and she used the excuse of their departure to drift towards the stairs to their room.
Once out of sight of the others, she groped for Sacha’s hand and threaded her fingers with his. On paper, she was making the biggest mistake of her life, hurtling into a rebound relationship with no future that could only cause pain with this intensity. But she knew what she wanted. She glanced at him as they reached the door. She just wasn’t quite sure how to get it.
‘Thank you for teaching me to ski,’ he surprised her by saying once they were inside. ‘It was… fun.’
‘Not too many bruises?’ she asked around the lump in her throat.
He shook his head. ‘Bruises are a mark of honour, no?’
Oh, God, she loved his words. She drifted closer to him. ‘Like tattoos?’
His lips turned up slightly. ‘Some tattoos. Others are marks of youth or stupidity.’
‘Did they… hurt a lot?’
‘Mmhmm.’
‘Which one hurt the most?’
His brow knit, and he gestured wordlessly to the sentence on his neck. She drew close, her eyelids heavy. Her thoughts fuzzy from the rush of her blood and the crash of adrenaline, she pressed her lips lightly to his skin, over the ink. His chest heaved with a sudden breath and he clutched her forearms – to fend her off or bring her closer, she couldn’t be sure.
‘I kissed you today,’ she said softly, marvelling at the moment that still felt slightly miraculous.
‘Huh,’ he said, swallowing. ‘I thought I kissed you.’
‘It’s a matter of interpretation,’ she said with a smile. ‘Either way, I think it was my finest moment.’
‘I think… you have many fine moments still to come.’ He came closer.
‘I hope all of them are kissing you.’
‘Some of them,’ he murmured. She stared into the eyes that had fascinated her with their warmth from the first moment. There was desire there, but also confidence, trust – things that were foreign and confronting. In his eyes, she was whole, a real person – a person that Charlie and even her grandmother didn’t know.
She rose on her toes and kissed him as his hand fisted in the back of her shirt and he met the kiss with all of the passion she’d felt in him at the bottom of the slope.
He lifted her against him and stumbled in the direction of the bed, his mouth sliding across her cheek to her jaw. All she could do was suck in enormous breaths as she landed on her back on the bed, the wooden beams swimming before her eyes.
‘Is this okay?’ he asked against her cheek.
‘Mmhmm,’ she said, her eyes closing as his lips brushed her ear. A tremor ran through her. No one had kissed her ear before. He did it again, followed by a groan and a nip with his teeth, and she wondered whether she was about to dissolve into the air.
‘I always want to touch these spots,’ he said, feathering his fingers over her cheek. ‘You are far more beautiful in real life than in photos on the Internet.’
Real life… What had that even been before she’d discovered Paris at night? He paused, his breath heavy, and she tugged him down until his forehead was pressed to hers. How was it possible that she knew the feel of him so well, the faint scent of pepper and cold air, the smooth skin of his face and the bristles of his beard? ‘Can we…? I want to… tonight?’ The words caught in her throat.
‘Mmm,’ was all he said at first, dropping his mouth to her neck, making her shudder.
‘Please,’ she added.
‘Anything,’ he promised in a low murmur. ‘Everything.’
‘Everything,’ she agreed, meeting his gaze and wrapping her arms around his neck to hold him close.
And, although they’d kissed thoroughly only moments ago, the next one felt like the first time, a tentative exploration of confessed wants, tense with restrained passion and wary of the enormity of what neither of them had said. Then they forged ahead, giving and taking.
Ren touched him with the delight of the messed-up woman she was learning she liked being – the woman who’d checked him out in the hospital and struggled with coherent thought when he’d burst out of her ensuite in only a towel. His fingers and mouth made her entire body feel precious. He pulled a condom from the drawer and set it on the night table firmly, a promise and an assurance that made her smile, it was so Sacha.
‘After the kiss today, I… took precautions,’ he explained.
She discovered he was ticklish at the waist and revelled in his laughter as they tumbled on the bed. But the laughter fell away when they drew together. He wasn’t gentle with her, but that only proved how strong she was, bearing the passion and asserting her own.
As the tide built, she saw it, a shadow of fear that crossed his expression. He was exposed, too – more vulnerable than he was used to. Seeing him raw and uncertain was its own kind of magic, lending her a strength she hadn’t realised she’d had.
‘It’s all right,’ she whispered with all the breath she could muster. I love you. She twisted her fingers with his and she held on tight as they were swept away together, with a closeness and depth that was entirely new.
