before he thought too much about what he wanted this week to be versus what it could be. She’d said yes, and they both knew she was leaving at the end of the week. A dinner out was just a dinner out.
“Well, I didn’t,” she said.
“You don’t need them.”
She looked up at him, still swinging her helmet, and the self-satisfied smile on her face left him with no doubt that she was pleased now.
Doug showered first, then got his ancient Toyota 4Runner from the staff garage while Cassie showered. He’d made reservations, so he couldn’t climb into the shower with her, no matter how much he wanted to. Plus, seeing Cassie walk out of the bathroom was worth missing a chance to make out in the shower. She had on a deep-purple tunic with a scoop neck, showing off her hourglass figure, especially the hips and breasts that he’d lost himself in last night. Chinos and a sweater were about as dressed up as he got, and she looked too good to be on his arm. But she was going to be, and he was going to enjoy having her there. Even better, after dinner, he was going to see if he could lift her breasts out of the neck of her shirt so that the dark color framed her creamy skin. And then he was going to enjoy having her under him, over him, or otherwise using him any way she wanted.
The clerk at the desk winked at him as he went by, his hand on the small of Cassie’s back. Once they were out on the canyon road, Doug opened the moonroof, turned on some jazz—the only station that came in for him until they got out of Little Cottonwood Canyon—and snaked his way down the mountain.
On one of the straighter sections of road, Doug snuck a glance over at Cassie. She was looking through the moonroof up at the mountains and the stars. Her neck was slim, and the shadows danced on the soft curve to her jaw, which he knew got goose bumps when he kissed it. He would have to take his time with her jawline again tonight while remembering the look of awe on her face right now.
“Sometimes you can see bighorn sheep up on the edges of the cliffs. On my backcountry trips, I’ve seen several bobcats and one mountain lion, too. It’s pretty amazing.”
She lowered her head, and he felt her gaze shift from the view to his face. “I’d love to see it. All of it. I wish I could make it out here again, but this is once in a lifetime for me.”
“No more ski vacations?”
“Probably not.” She sighed. “Or at least not out here.” She was looking at him, and he had to remind himself to concentrate on the twisty canyon road rather than turn his head to look at her.
“Why did you stop skiing?” He kept his voice light, trying to offset the gloominess floating on the edge of her sigh. If she was going to be sad, he wanted to be able to pull her into his arms and hold her tight, not worry about hairpin turns and his brakes. “You enjoy it and you’re good at it, especially for not having been in twenty years.”
“I got pregnant, and then I got married. And my ex didn’t like skiing. His idea of a vacation was doing nothing on the beach for a week.” She must have realized that she sounded like she was complaining about many people’s idea of perfection, because she tapped her hand against the middle seat between them before saying, “The beach was nice. Doing nothing wasn’t.”
“And you didn’t ever put your foot down?” he asked. Cassie seemed to enjoy direction, on the slopes and in bed, but she wasn’t passive. Even when he’d been maneuvering her where he had wanted her in the shower, she’d been an active, engaged participant. Her clear involvement was much of what made that experience so damn memorable.
“Not until Sam, my daughter, got her driver’s license.” Her hand stopped tapping for a moment, before starting up again. “Then raising her was pretty much done and I had to think about what I wanted to do or I would go crazy. By that time, Tom was so used to me deferring to him that my sudden decision to
“Well, I didn’t,” she said.
“You don’t need them.”
She looked up at him, still swinging her helmet, and the self-satisfied smile on her face left him with no doubt that she was pleased now.
Doug showered first, then got his ancient Toyota 4Runner from the staff garage while Cassie showered. He’d made reservations, so he couldn’t climb into the shower with her, no matter how much he wanted to. Plus, seeing Cassie walk out of the bathroom was worth missing a chance to make out in the shower. She had on a deep-purple tunic with a scoop neck, showing off her hourglass figure, especially the hips and breasts that he’d lost himself in last night. Chinos and a sweater were about as dressed up as he got, and she looked too good to be on his arm. But she was going to be, and he was going to enjoy having her there. Even better, after dinner, he was going to see if he could lift her breasts out of the neck of her shirt so that the dark color framed her creamy skin. And then he was going to enjoy having her under him, over him, or otherwise using him any way she wanted.
The clerk at the desk winked at him as he went by, his hand on the small of Cassie’s back. Once they were out on the canyon road, Doug opened the moonroof, turned on some jazz—the only station that came in for him until they got out of Little Cottonwood Canyon—and snaked his way down the mountain.
On one of the straighter sections of road, Doug snuck a glance over at Cassie. She was looking through the moonroof up at the mountains and the stars. Her neck was slim, and the shadows danced on the soft curve to her jaw, which he knew got goose bumps when he kissed it. He would have to take his time with her jawline again tonight while remembering the look of awe on her face right now.
“Sometimes you can see bighorn sheep up on the edges of the cliffs. On my backcountry trips, I’ve seen several bobcats and one mountain lion, too. It’s pretty amazing.”
She lowered her head, and he felt her gaze shift from the view to his face. “I’d love to see it. All of it. I wish I could make it out here again, but this is once in a lifetime for me.”
“No more ski vacations?”
“Probably not.” She sighed. “Or at least not out here.” She was looking at him, and he had to remind himself to concentrate on the twisty canyon road rather than turn his head to look at her.
“Why did you stop skiing?” He kept his voice light, trying to offset the gloominess floating on the edge of her sigh. If she was going to be sad, he wanted to be able to pull her into his arms and hold her tight, not worry about hairpin turns and his brakes. “You enjoy it and you’re good at it, especially for not having been in twenty years.”
“I got pregnant, and then I got married. And my ex didn’t like skiing. His idea of a vacation was doing nothing on the beach for a week.” She must have realized that she sounded like she was complaining about many people’s idea of perfection, because she tapped her hand against the middle seat between them before saying, “The beach was nice. Doing nothing wasn’t.”
“And you didn’t ever put your foot down?” he asked. Cassie seemed to enjoy direction, on the slopes and in bed, but she wasn’t passive. Even when he’d been maneuvering her where he had wanted her in the shower, she’d been an active, engaged participant. Her clear involvement was much of what made that experience so damn memorable.
“Not until Sam, my daughter, got her driver’s license.” Her hand stopped tapping for a moment, before starting up again. “Then raising her was pretty much done and I had to think about what I wanted to do or I would go crazy. By that time, Tom was so used to me deferring to him that my sudden decision to
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