Page 22 of Cold and Bitter Snow

Before he could talk himself out of it again Conor found himself heading back to the hotel. The reception desk was empty, but he remembered seeing Siena’s room key earlier—one of those old-fashioned keys with the number on it. And he didn’t want to call up ahead anyway—she might not let him in.

Conor took the stairs three by three and stood outside room twelve. Taking a deep breath, he knocked.

Come on.

A few seconds later, Siena opened the door. She must have been standing right next to it. Her hazel eyes widened as she saw him.

“Conor.”

“May I come in?” he said. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Siena nodded and stood aside. As he walked past her into the bedroom he smelled the soft, clean scent that he was starting to associate with her.

“So,” he said, standing in the middle of the room, looking out towards the balcony. He realized he didn’t know where to start. It was warm in the room—too warm.

She curled her hand around his bigger hand.

“I’m glad you came back,” she whispered.

He leaned down and forgot what he was going to say. She’d done something to her eyes to make them look smoky. He could get lost in those eyes. He stroked her cheek gently, amazed at how soft her skin felt. How long had it been since he’d really touched anyone?

Her pink lips parted. She angled her head upwards to meet his mouth in a kiss. His tongue met hers in a timeless dance, only parting when they both needed to breathe.

And then her warm hands were under his sweater, pulling upwards. He raised his arms to help her and winced slightly at the twinge of pain in his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” she said. Her gaze was on the blue-black bruise on his shoulder. She traced the bruise pattern gently with her fingers, following it upwards and turning his body around so she faced his back.

“Oh my God,” she gasped. He didn’t need to turn his head to know she was looking at the bruises there.

“It’s okay,” he said.

“You got those bruises protecting me,” she said.

“Please don’t try to make me into a hero,” he said.

But by then she wasn’t listening to him any longer. Her hands had found the thick ridges on his back and were lightly tracing each and every one of the lines. He shivered at the touch.

“These aren’t from yesterday,” she stated.

Conor knew his back wasn’t pretty. He and Logan had been flayed to within an inch of their lives at different times during their imprisonment and those wounds hadn’t healed cleanly.

“They don’t hurt anymore. They’re from a long time ago,” he said. Only half of that statement was true.

He turned and buried his face in her dark hair, sniffing that clean smell again. She burrowed closer to him as her hands busied themselves on his body, as if she wanted to get to know all of him.

He kissed her cheek, her ear, all the way down her neck, biting gently and enjoying the hissing sounds she made as he did so. His hands found the waist of her jeans and caressed the soft skin around her hips.

Siena shimmied out of her turtleneck, displacing her ponytail. Her hair now fell in a soft curtain past her shoulders. He pulled it back, exposing her black bra, highlighting her glorious full breasts.

He ran the pad of his finger gently around the outer edge of the bra. Her nipples pebbled under the satiny black fabric and she moaned softly.

“May I take this off?” he asked. It’d been so long since he’d been with a woman, and he wanted to do everything right with her. “I need to see you.”

She nodded, arching into his touch to give him better access to her back. Conor unclipped the hook, letting it drop to the floor. He cupped her breasts, careful not to rub the bandages covering his palms against her soft skin.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered.

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