Page 38 of Seven Night Stopover

“No, I meant are you sure you can’t do it?”Please God, let her be willing to try.He needed to feel the back of her throat like he needed to breathe.

“I don’t want to mess it up.”

His bark of laughter slammed around the room, a harsh noise that made her flinch. He rounded the counter and grasped her arms. “Sweetheart, I’ve seen you move your body like a siren while I pleasured you. I’ve seen you ski with an innate rhythm that’s almost a part of your DNA. I’m willing to bet you’d be a natural.”

“And if I’m not?”

“Then I’ll teach you.” He kissed her plump mouth and moved away before he gave in to the urge to start the lesson straightaway. “Before I’m done with you, you’ll know how to suck my dick like a champ. Let’s eat.”

How he managed to calmly dish out the food, sit across from her on the center aisle and actually chew and swallow would forever remain a mystery to him.

Watching her long black nails rip her bagel in chunks before popping them piece by piece into her mouth was pure fucking torture.

He cleared his throat loudly. “Right. Small talk. You joined the IL trip in Miami, so am I right to assume you live there?”

She nodded. “I’ve lived in Florida all my life. But we… I’ve moved around a bit.”

“So where’s home now?”

“Palm Beach.”

She named the exclusive area and he nodded, not even a little surprised. Old Money.

He’d toyed with buying a place there when he’d relocated from New York. In the end, he’d resisted Gabriel’s strong-arm tactics to buy the mansion next to his and bought a condo instead. Noah loved the view of ocean from his penthouse apartment… when he bothered to leave his office long enough to appreciate it.

“You?”

“Condo. West Palm Beach.”

Her wide eyes drifted down his torso. “Fitting.”

“You trying to peg me, sweetheart?”

“I suppose youcouldfit the billionaire surfer profile. If you grew your hair out a little and invested in a bead necklace.”

His mouth twitched. “Sorry, I’ve never surfed in my life. Where did you learn to ski so well?”

Her eyes darkened a touch, and he sensed he’d hit a painful subject. “My dad taught me. He took me skiing from when I was three until he… he died.” Her mouth quivered for a second, then she pressed her lips together and forced a smile. “You?”

“My cousin and I bought a resort in Aspen eight years ago. He runs it. I go whenever I can during the season.”

“You own a resort?”

He nodded. “So you didn’t stop skiing after your dad died?”

“I did for a year. It was too painful. But I got my mom to take me the next year.”

Something in her voice tweaked his radar. “Your mom didn’t like skiing?”

The faintest hint of a smile whispered across her lips before her eyes shadowed. “There was a reason we lived in Florida. She hated the cold. It was a choice between Florida and California. My dad was born in New Jersey. Florida was as far as he wanted to stray from his roots.”

Again, he noted the affection in her voice when she spoke about her father and the distinct lack when she touched on her mother.

“What happened to him?”

Pain shrouded her eyes, and he kicked himself for letting curiosity get the better of him. She swallowed a mouthful of bagel then answered. “He drowned while he was diving off the Florida Keys. He got entangled in fishing gear and ran out of oxygen.”

“Hell.”

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