As he wrapped her in his arms, her skin pink and glowing, she reflected that he'd certainly followed through on his promise to keep her warm.
Chapter Eleven
The sun was climbing in the sky. Morgan had dug out a clearing near the igloo and made a bonfire for Valerie. After a breakfast of chocolate bar and roast rabbit, she was pleasantly full.
She held her hands out in front of the fire as Morgan paced back and forth in the snow, a frown creasing his forehead.
"Stop pacing," Valerie said. "You're making me tired just watching you."
He walked over and sat down next to her, still scowling.
"Why are you looking so stressed?" she asked.
"I've never been away from work so long before. There's a million things I should be doing." Morgan stared off into the distance, seeing nothing.
"Arthur has been working for your company for twenty years. You've left things in good hands. Or paws."
Morgan continued as if he hadn't heard her. "I have expense reports to review, city planning officials to meet with, I need to read over the appeal of that zoning decision on the new wing..."
"Morgan," she said sharply, and he focused on her again as if seeing her for the first time.
"Yes?"
"Obviously I'm terrible company and not interesting enough to hold your attention, but I'd still rather see you focus on something besides work. Even if it's just for a few minutes."
"You're not terrible company," he said with a puzzled frown. "If you weren't interesting, why would I call you up after you've gone home from work?"
"Because you can't stop thinking about work, even for a minute."
"It's not work I think of when I call you," he muttered, or at least it sounded like that was what he was saying.
"What?" Valerie said, startled.
"Nothing." He shook his head and looked away. "I have to keep my focus on work, Valerie. My pack depends on me. My family depends on me. The reason I've achieved the level of success that I have is because I devote all my time and energy to the success of the company."
"No." she shook her head insistently. "You've reached the level of success that you have because you have very good instincts. You always pick the right place to build your hotels; you anticipate where the crowd will be before anyone else can. You're known for being tough but fair, and scrupulously honest in your dealings. You have an exquisite eye for design and you stay on top of all the latest trends in the hotel business."
"Well, gawrsh, Valerie." Morgan affected a gee-shucks tone and pretended to look bashful. "You're about to turn my head with all that pretty talk."
"Hold on, I'm not done yet."
"Of course not."
"Sometimes, you really get in your own way."
"How?"
She gave him an annoyed look.
"You know how. You've driven off some very talented contractors by being too much of a hardass. You're frequently rude to people, and you don't show your appreciation for a job well done." She let out an exasperated groan. "Oh, for God's sake, Morgan, you've got me doing it. You've got me talking about work."
"What else would we talk about?"
"Really? Out here in the middle of this beautiful wilderness?" She seized his hand. "We don't even need to talk, just relax. And appreciate. Look around you. Look at that stand of fir trees over there. Do you see the bird on the branch, that beautiful, tiny drop of red? It's like a ruby. The colors are so clear and intense out here."
He looked at the bird. "Hadn't noticed that." He nodded slowly, and his tension seemed to fade a little.
She pointed off at the mountain range in the distance, wreathed in white clouds, jagged and majestic against an ocean-blue sky.
"The sky is so clear that you can see forever."
He followed the direction that she was pointing, and nodded. "It's beautiful. We live in a beautiful place."
"Close your eyes."
He closed his eyes.
"What do you hear?" she asked.
"I hear the wind rushing through the trees. I hear squirrels chasing each other through the branches. I hear the pileated woodpecker tapping on a dead fir. I hear your heartbeat. I hear each breath you take."
Her heartbeat. He was listening to her heartbeat.
She felt herself trembling.
"I can hear you shivering," he said. "I should stoke up the fire."
"No," she said. "Not yet. What do you smell?"
"I smell woodsmoke. I smell ice and snow. I smell juniper berries. I smell you. The trace of your perfume, with citrus. And the sweet scent of your arousal."
He opened his eyes. "And now we're going to go into the igloo and talk about what I can feel and taste."
As she crawled into the igloo, her heart was thumping and her mind was a whirl of conflicting thoughts and emotions. She remembered Morgan pumping inside her and her pussy clenched with want. She could almost feel the touch of his lips on her skin, his big hands cupping her breasts, the radiant heat of his strong body.
She reminded herself that was what it had all been about. A way to keep warm and fend off the arctic chill of the night. Morgan sharing the fierce heat of his shifter metabolism with her, sheltering her from the cold with his big body. Once this whole farce was over and Morgan had found a mate his family approved of, she'd be out of his life. If she hadn't already been planning on quitting, she knew she wouldn't be able to work with Morgan day and in and day out as his secretary anymore.
Not when she knew what it was like to be his lover.
On the other hand, this was the only time she'd ever have the chance to experience that again.
One brief window in which she could hold him close and make believe that he was really hers.
She shook her head to clear it and pushed her doubts aside as Morgan crawled into the domed space after her and drew her into his arms.
Their kisses started off slow and sweet. Morgan's lips were gentle against hers and she opened to him, allowing him to stroke her tongue with his. She slipped out of her coat and he ran his hand over her breasts and down her sides before pulling away and pressing his forehead against hers, his eyes closed and his hands resting on her hips.
He gave a shuddering breath and pulled away. She felt momentarily bereft until she realized he was spreading her coat out on the floor to make a comfortable place for them to lie.
They undressed each other, taking their time, stopping after each discarded item of clothing for more kisses. He swept his hands over her curves and buried his face against the swell of her breast; she played her fingers over the hard planes of his stomach and teased his flat nipples with her tongue.
Valerie's inner thighs were slick with her own juices by the time he knelt over her where she lay on the floor, gazing down with an expression she couldn't quite place. She squirmed impatiently and reached for him, but he grasped her wrists and pushed her hands down to either side of her head.
"I said I'm going to tell you what I can feel," he said, his voice hoarse. "What I can taste."
A delicious shiver ran through her as he lowered his head and kissed her lips. "You taste of granola bars," he murmured. "Sweet and nutty."
He moved down to her throat and licked her pulse point. "I can taste the salt on your skin. I can feel your pulse against my tongue."
He scraped his teeth over her collarbone before cupping her breasts and kissing the pillowy mounds, teasing her nipples, his breath hot against her skin. "You're so warm and soft. I want to sink into you."
As he said that, he ran his hand over her belly and down to the triangle of curls at the juncture of her thighs. He worked his finger between the slick lips of her pussy, pushing slowly inside her, testing and teasing.
He groaned. "I can feel how wet you are for me," he growled. "I can feel how much you want me. Valerie wordlessly moaned her assent, flexing her hips to push her mound against his palm in invitation.
Then she gasped as he moved further down her body and parted her thighs with his hands, hovering with his face a scant inch away from her most intimate flesh. He inhaled deeply, and murmured, "You smell musky and sweet. I can feel the heat of your pussy on my lips." He gave her a long, slow lick, dipping into her entrance and lapping over her clit with a firm little flick that made her moan and arch her back. "This is what I wanted to taste," he growled.
Then he was kissing her intimately, playing his tongue in quick, clever circles around that exquisitely sensitive bud before taking it between his lips and suckling, sending quicksilver threads of sensation through her body.