Page 36 of Wrecked on the Mountain (Stone River Mountain #2)
"Feel good?" Jamie asks, his voice closer than it should be.
I crack one eye open to find him reaching across the space between tables, trying to hold my hand. The movement makes his towel slip dangerously low, and his masseuse clears his throat.
"Um, sir?" The man says, trying not to look. "Your—"
"Shit!"
Jamie fumbles to adjust the towel and somehow manages to knock over the bottle of massage oil in the process, sending expensive eucalyptus oil spreading across the bamboo floor.
" Shit ," he mutters again, trying to sit up while maintaining his modesty and not lose the towel completely. "Sorry, man."
"It happens," the masseuse says diplomatically, reaching for towels to clean up the mess while Frankie and I dissolve into laughter.
"I was trying to be romantic," he grumbles, face red with embarrassment.
"You succeeded. Just not how you planned."
By the time we're finished with the massages, and Jamie helps with clean-up despite protests, we're both glowing and loose-limbed.
"Ready for the hot springs?" Jamie asks, wrapping one of the resort's fluffy robes around my shoulders.
The private infinity pool feels like it's hanging off the edge of the world. Natural mineral water from the mountain thermal springs fills the custom-built basin, steam rising in the cool air as endless mountain views stretch beyond the seemingly invisible edge.
"Jesus," I breathe, letting my robe drop to the stone deck. "This is unreal."
Jamie's already in the water, muscles glistening beneath the moonlight, champagne glasses balanced on the stone edges. He swims over to the infinity edge and turns back to me, and when he sees me naked, his expression goes dark with want.
"Come here," he growls.
I slip into the warm water, taking my time to enjoy the view. The temperature is perfect, hot enough to make my muscles melt but not so hot that I can't think straight.
Jamie pulls me against him immediately, my back to his chest, his arms circling my waist as we float together in the steaming water.
"I could get used to this lifestyle," I murmur, letting my head fall back against his shoulder.
"That's the idea, sweetheart," he replies, hands sliding up my ribs to cup my breasts beneath the water. "You go right ahead and get used to it."
The combination of wine, warm water, and Jamie's touch makes me bold. I turn in his arms, wrapping my legs around his waist, and the thick length of him presses against my core.
"Wanna?" I whisper against his mouth.
"Fuck yes," he confirms, lifting me to position me where he wants me.
He slides inside me and we both groan at the perfect heat, the way the warm water makes every sensation beneath the surface more intense. He moves slowly, one hand tangled in my wet hair while the other grips my hip.
"I love you," he murmurs against my neck, thrusting deeper. "Love you so fucking much, Brooke."
"I love you too," I gasp, my body arching against his as pleasure builds like a storm in my belly.
We move together in the steaming water, the mountain air cool against our skin while heat pools between us. The endless sky spins above us as I come with Jamie, pressing hard against the glass of the infinity edge.
"Thank you," I whisper against his chest. "For all of this."
Jamie chuckles, still holding me close. "Pretty sure half the town just got a good look at your ass pressed against the glass."
I bury my face in his shoulder, laughing. "Great. My reputation as the new city girl just took a nosedive."
"Let them talk," Jamie says gruffly, pressing a kiss to my temple. "They're just jealous they don't get to see you like this."
As we eventually climb out of the pool, wrapping ourselves in the resort's luxurious robes, I catch a glimpse of our reflection in the glass doors leading back to our suite.
We look like people who belong in this world. Pampered, glowing, completely happy.
I could get used to this.
After a quick clean up and shower, the dress Jamie bought me for dinner is hanging in the closet when I step out of the bathroom.
It's the kind of dress I've never owned because I've never had anywhere to wear it.
"You bought this for me?" I ask, running my fingers over the expensive red fabric.
"Saw it in the boutique downstairs," Jamie says, adjusting his cufflinks like it's no big deal. "Thought you might like it."
He's wearing a shirt that makes his eyes look like storm clouds, charcoal gray that stretches across his shoulders and makes me want to lick his collarbone.
"Jamie," I start, then stop because what do you say to someone who keeps giving you perfect things? "You can't keep buying me all this stuff."
"Yes, I can," he says firmly, moving behind me to zip the dress. His fingers brush the nape of my neck as he works the zipper, and I shiver. "I want to. Let me."
The private balcony has been transformed while we've been gone.
Candles now line the edge and flicker in the mountain breeze, fairy lights are overhead, and the entire valley spreads below us like we're dining on top of the world.
A man in chef's whites appears with our first course, presenting it with the kind of flourish usually reserved for Michelin-starred restaurants. I assume.
"Pan-seared scallops with cauliflower purée and microgreens," he announces, setting down plates that look like works of art. "Paired with a Sauvignon Blanc from our local vineyard."
"Everything is incredible," I tell him after the first bite, which tastes like the ocean met the mountains and decided to have a party in my mouth. "How did you find this place?"
"I know the guy who runs it. Good guy, bit grumpy."
"So, the usual Stone River type?"
He chuckles and nods. "Exactly. I wanted somewhere that would show you what Stone River has to offer."
There's that phrase again. What Stone River has to offer.
The wine makes me bold, or maybe it's the setting, or maybe it's the way Jamie keeps looking at me like I'm the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.
"You mean there's more luxury hidden in these mountains?" I tease.
"Sweetheart," Jamie says, leaning back in his chair with that satisfied smile. "Trust me when I say you haven't seen anything yet."
Course after course arrives, each one more perfect than the last. Lamb sourced from a local farm, vegetables from the resort's mountain garden, dessert that makes me close my eyes and moan with pleasure.
Jamie tells me stories about his deployments while I tell him about medical school disasters. We laugh until my sides ache, drink wine until I'm warm all over, and somewhere between the third and fourth course, I realize what's happening.
"Are you planning our whole future?" I ask, gesturing with my wine glass at the elaborate dinner, the perfect setting, the obvious effort he's put into showing me this lifestyle.
All right before someone from my old life just so happens to be visiting.
Jamie goes very still, his glass halfway to his lips.
"Would that be such a terrible thing?" he asks quietly.
A few weeks ago, I would have panicked. Would have listed all the reasons why planning a future with someone I barely know is insane.
But before I got here, I didn't know what it felt like to be loved like this. To be cherished and spoiled and wanted with this kind of intensity.
"No," I admit, the wine making me braver than I usually am. "It wouldn't be terrible at all."
Relief floods his face, and he reaches across the table to take my hand.
"Good," he says simply. "Because if my mother has anything to do with it, there is going to be plenty more to enjoy."
His mother?
I go to question what his mother has to do with our future, but the chef appears beside our table, clearing our final plates.
"Will there be anything else this evening?" he asks politely.
"No, thank you."
The moment breaks, and Jamie's hand tightens on mine like he's relieved not to have to explain that comment.
"Come here," he says, looking at me like he knows exactly what is racing through my mind right now. "We don't have to worry just yet. Let's just enjoy tonight for what it is."
I rise, swaying slightly from the wine and the altitude and the sheer perfection of this entire weekend. He pulls me close on the candlelit balcony, his hands spanning my waist, and I can smell his cologne mixing with the mountain air.
"Thank you," I whisper against his mouth. "For showing me what we could have."
His response is a kiss that tastes like wine and promises and forever. When he lifts me, carrying me toward the rose-petal-covered bed, I think hazily: I never want this weekend to end.
But deep down, I know Piper's arrival tomorrow will bring reality crashing back.