Chapter 15

15

Isla

N ow she knew where the expression head over heels came from.

She was head over heels for this strong, sexy man. Once again, the sex had been much better than fine. Together, they were reinventing spectacular. It was as if they’d learned each other’s bodies their first few times together, and now knew exactly where to go to make each other combust.

They’d had sex three times, but she’d come five or six times. She was pretty sure that was a record for her. Even now, hours later, she could feel it between her legs and against her clit. The soft reminder that they’d rocked each other’s world.

This morning, she’d woken up before Ry and watched him as he slept. Not something she’d ever done with Roland or with any other man—not something she’d ever had the least interest in doing. But watching Ry sleep, it seemed right. He looked younger asleep, but then maybe everybody did. Younger and lighter. As if he were having happy dreams, and she wondered if she’d had a hand in making that happen.

She’d hated knowing that smooth, carefree expression would disappear as soon as he woke up. And it had. He’d gone from sleepy to concerned in a matter of seconds, and even though he’d tried to hide it from her, she’d known his thoughts were back with his team.

“You okay?” she’d asked, knowing he wasn’t.

“I just worry about the team. I know they’re okay, but I … I should be there with them.”

“And you will. As soon as this stupid complaint is sorted out. People are going to see right through this.”

“I hope so.” He brought out his phone and his expression dimmed further. “The investigators have arrived. They’re speaking to Beau, Hugo and Tristan today, but my interview isn’t scheduled until tomorrow.” He’d looked unhappy at that, and she understood his impatience—understood his need to get his side of the story out there. But she wanted so badly to smooth out that frown, even if it was by distracting him.

The words were out before she could stop herself.

“I promised I’d teach you to snowboard. Want to go up there today?”

“Today? You don’t have to do that, Isla. I know you have to go to work.”

“I checked my appointments last night. I don’t have anything scheduled until the afternoon. And Alain will be here, anyway. He’s already doing the simpler designs without me.”

Ry had spare ski pants and a jacket in his car, so they’d showered—separately, because otherwise there would have been no snowboarding—and headed up to the rental place by the telecabine to find a snowboard and boots for him.

“Just the board and the boots?” the taller guy asked. “Do you also need a helmet?”

“No, thanks, I have one in the car.”

“You should get a butt protector,” Isla said.

Ry turned, his expression comically offended. “I’ve been skiing since I was five,” he puffed.

“Skiing, not snowboarding,” she reminded him, smiling. “But it’s your ass, not mine.”

At her mention of the word ass, Ry’s eyes moved to look at hers. It warmed her inside. Then he crossed his arms in front of his chest. “We’re not taking the protector.”

The guy from the rental shop chuckled as he rang the board and boots up for them.

“Allow me,” he said, taking her board from her so he was carrying one board under each arm. Isla was perfectly capable of carrying her own board, but decided not to complain about the gentlemanly gesture. “Compared to ski boots, it’s like going barefoot, isn’t it? It’s one of the things I love about snowboarding.”

“Yeah. So far, so good. I’m ready whenever you are.”

They’d missed the early risers, who were already up on the slope, and it wasn’t a public holiday, so there was close to no line. Ry slotted the two boards into the spaces available outside the telecabine, then followed her in. Nobody else got in behind them, so they made their way up the mountain together.

Ry waited until she sat, facing the top of the mountain, then sat down next to her, his thick thigh pressing against hers.

“You look beautiful, you know?”

“In my snow suit?” she asked doubtfully.

“The green makes your eyes pop.”

“My eyes aren’t green.”

“They still pop.”

His eyes were greener than her suit. It was no hardship looking into them. No hardship at all. The moment stretched into eternity. There they were, being rocked gently in their little metal bubble, surrounded by an infinity of white, the sun shining on them through the glass.

Then his mouth fell on hers, his lips soft and firm. They were warmer than hers—warm enough to warm her up inside. She felt the light sting of his stubble, reminding her he hadn’t shaved that morning, because he’d been at her place. He tasted minty, of snow and sunshine.

His tongue reached into her mouth and she welcomed it gladly, her own tongue coming out to play. The kiss heated her from the inside out. She never wanted to stop kissing him—and she didn’t, not until she had to come up for air. She pulled back, putting some distance between them, and dragged some air into her lungs. Movement on the slope right above them surprised her.

“Look at that! It’s a family of chamoix.” The goat-like antelopes—two larger ones and, between them, a smaller one that might have been born just last spring—jumped on the snow with admirable surefootedness. They would make great snowboarders. Ry’s hand held hers, and together they looked until the three animals disappeared.

Moments later, the top of the telecabine came into sight. Isla got her gloves and helmet together just in time. When the door opened, Ry stood behind her and waited for her to get off. “I’ll get the boards.”

He was right behind her as she stepped outside the hut. The sun shone brightly, making her glad she’d decided to take the morning off. There weren’t that many days like this in a season—new snow and sun didn’t often come together.

Ry dropped the boards in front of them and cocked an eyebrow. “What now?”

“You sure you’re up for this?” she asked. She was only half kidding.

“My shoulder’s fine. I’ll be careful. I promise.” Isla nodded, trusting him to know his limits. He said he’d never snowboarded before, but he was obviously a confident skier, or he never would have made it into the PGHM.

“Let’s go, then,” she said, turning to the Funi 2000, the tiny funicular carrying beginners to the top of a very small hill.

“Really?” he asked, standing in line behind a group of six-year-olds wearing brightly colored vests. “This is where we start?”

“What were you expecting? A black run? By the time we’re done here today, you’ll know the green pistes of Brevent like the back of your hand.”

At the top, she showed him how to fasten the strap bindings on his lead foot, leaving his back foot free. “There. Now you push off, like this.”

She watched him push off and slide forward, gaining momentum. When she saw he was stable, she taught him some of the basics—heel edge, toe edge, and eventually “S” turns. It didn’t take her long to see he was a natural, with incredible balance and coordination. It didn’t hurt that he had an intuitive knowledge of how snow and slopes behaved. In just a short while, he was ready to take his first lift.

“Are you sure you’ve never done this before?” she asked, when they were safely on the lift.

The grin on his face grew wider. “Does that mean I’m doing well?”

Isla laughed. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Well, I surf, and I’m a skier,” he shrugged. She couldn’t see his eyes behind the reflective sunglasses he wore, but knew he was staring at her. ”I’m having a lot of fun. Thank you for teaching me.”

Something warmed her inside, and this time it wasn’t the sun. “I am too. I think by the end of today, you’ll be able to go anywhere.” She raised the bar at the end of the lift, instructing him on how to push off.

The exit went off without a hitch until a small girl on skis crossed over in front of Ry to get to her parents. His arms windmilled, and he ended up flat on his ass.

“Or almost anywhere,” she laughed, stopping next to him. “Maybe you still need to practice that a bit.”

“You think?”

“Are you okay?” She offered him a hand up, though he put no pressure on her as he stood.

“I’m okay. It’s just my pride.”

“Is that what you call your butt now?”

He laughed so hard several people turned to stare at them. “You have a point. Maybe I should have rented the butt protector after all.”

She loved snowboarding enough that she didn’t need to do it with anyone else to have fun, but snowboarding with Ry was different. He made the air feel crisper somehow, the sun warmer. She wasn’t used to having quite this much fun.

“I think you might be ready for the Parsa chair,” she said after a few more runs.

“If you say so, Teach.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Ry laughed, reaching out to her with his gloved hand. Even through the material, she could feel the heat of his skin. “But you’re a great teacher, Isla. Come on, let me buy you lunch, then we’ll take the chair.”

A woman could get used to this.

Usually, Isla had to stand in line for her meal. Instead, she was sitting outside, enjoying people watching—one of her favorite activities up on the slopes—while Ry went to get their food.

She stretched out in her seat and closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling of the sun on her face. It felt so nice. Her toes tingled, like after really good sex.

She’d asked for the rosti and a hot chocolate—a strange combination, perhaps, but surely there was nothing wrong with putting two of her favorite things together. Just thinking about it was making her feel hungry.

She opened her eyes, wondering what was taking Ry so long, and caught sight of him as he moved forward, a laden tray in his arms. Her stomach growled. She was debating whether to get up and help him when a woman dressed in a bright burgundy ski suit fairly jumped into his arms, almost dislodging the tray. The suit was a bright, garish color, one that would have looked hideous on Isla, but with her beautiful dark skin, the woman made it work.

Work? She looks gorgeous .

The woman stretched to her full height and wrapped her arms tightly around Ry’s neck—somehow managing to avoid the tray in the process. From where she was sitting, Isla couldn’t see the woman’s expression, but she didn’t miss the way her hands grazed his cheeks, just before she whispered something suggestively into his ear.

Ry’s eyes pulled up to where Isla was sitting. Isla refused to look away—she hadn’t done that with her husband, she wasn’t about to do it now—so she had front row seats to the guilty expression that appeared on his face. Shock filled her, followed quickly by embarrassment and an unavoidable sense of déjà vu. You fool. This is Roland part two. She’d somehow done it again. Was she wearing some kind of asshole magnet?

At least nobody was naked this time around. She’d been spared that. And, for all Isla knew, she—and not the dark-skinned goddess—might be the other woman in this scenario. Perhaps the statuesque woman was the girlfriend— God, what if she’s the wife? —and Isla was the one breaking up a marriage.

No.

There’s only one asshole in this scenario, and it’s not you.

She forced air into her starving lungs. Once, slowly. Then again. That was better. She would not cry. She’d been stupid, yes—stupid to believe … believe what? She couldn’t even claim he’d lied to her. She’d never come out and asked. Are you seeing someone else? Do you have a girlfriend, or a wife, I should know about? But he’d implied he was free. As he hammered into you with his talented cock. God. This couldn’t be happening to her again. She wouldn’t let it. She was done . One hundred percent not doing this to herself.

Tears threatened to erupt, but she pressed her hand against her eyes to drive them back. Ry wasn’t even looking at her anymore. He was saying something to the other woman. Of course. He’d have a lot of explaining to do, if he was hoping to salvage at least one of his relationships. Isla stood up, grabbed her board, which was standing against the wall of the building, and walked as fas as she could to the telecabine.