Catching Her Breath (Deep Desires) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Catching Her Breath

  All Rights Reserved.

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Also by Liza Mitchell

  About the Author

  Catching Her Breath

  Deep Desires

  Liza Mitchell

  Published by Feather & Bleed Press, 2019.

  All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations used for review purposes.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This book is intended for mature, adult audiences only. It contains extremely sexually explicit and graphic scenes and language that may be considered offensive by some readers. This book is strictly intended for those over the age of 18.

  All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older. All acts of a sexual nature are completely consensual. No one is related in this book.

  CATCHING HER BREATH

  Copyright © 2019 Liza Mitchell

  Edited by Jennifer at Mistress Editing

  CHAPTER ONE

  ____________

  AVERY

  “No, ma’am. I’m sorry, but there are no refunds for the weekend. They are offering compensation and allowing you to use your nights any other time throughout the year.”

  Avery pulled the receiver away from her ear the instant the other woman’s voice started to rise. She didn’t really need to hear what the unhappy guest was saying. She could guess. After handling a dozen of these calls, she practically had their end of the speech memorized.

  When the phone quieted, she brought it back to her ear and continued in a mellow and empathetic voice, “Yes, I understand that the blizzard is an act of nature. Unfortunately, it is company policy that cancellations are not accepted within forty-eight hours of the reservation. Exchanges are usually not allowed either, but they did decide to allow guests to transfer their nights, as long as the reservation is booked within the next two weeks.

  “No, I’m not sure what Mr. Garland has decided to do with the reservation.

  “I have spoken to him. He didn’t inform me of his own plans for the reservations.”

  That timeline incited a new scree of inaudible rage on the other end of the phone. Avery giggled lightly, reminded of the mechanical gibberish that the adults in Charlie Brown used to communicate. It was pretty accurate. She wondered if the internet would be up and running in time for her to watch that movie tonight, try to scramble for some sense of familiarity or tradition while she was trapped here for the night.

  She waited for a lull in Mrs. Perkins’s rant, then butted in and tried to wrap things up. “I know. I’m very sorry. I hope you have a Merry Christmas.”

  A loud click echoed through the line.

  “Merry Christmas to you too,” Avery whispered to herself as she dropped her head to her desk.

  Sweetwater hadn’t seen a storm like this in years. The town was used to snow—lake effect is a real thing. Being located at the foot of the mountains didn’t help. The local news anchor was also talking about a cold front and warm front colliding and running in the mountain range, then doubling back to dump eighteen inches of snow on their unassuming asses. Or something like that.

  The Bayside Resort was the only place open for tourists over the winter. During the summer it was a thriving golf course located in Small Town USA. But during the winter, it was a five-star ski resort… located six hours away from the closest public airport. Nothing else in Sweetwater could convince travelers to deal with that trip in horrific winter weather. Hell, only the wealthiest guests kept the Bayside in business—only people who could afford to fly into a small, private airport just outside of town bothered coming.

  Most of their winter guests were elite business weekend retreats or large family vacations. They were a small resort, and there was usually only one group of guests staying at a time. That had been the plan for this Christmas. The Garlands, one of the wealthiest families in Silicon Valley, had reserved the Bayside for Christmas. And now they were all very upset that their vacation was ruined by a record-setting blizzard. And even more upset that their money was not being refunded.

  Avery had gone through the same iteration of that phone call a dozen times that morning and afternoon, blaming ‘company policy’ and the almighty ‘they’ for the guests’ inconvenience when, in actuality, one man owned the Bayside. Leon Caster. And he would never part with the premium rates that the Garlands had paid to reserve the Bayside over the Christmas holiday. She’d even been instructed to tell them that the Bayside was booked for the next two Christmases—they weren’t. But if Caster let the Garlands move their reservation to next Christmas, then he would lose the money from that reservation as well. So, here she was, spending Christmas Eve getting yelled at left, right, and center by people who had spent more money on a vacation than she’d ever spend on a car.

  She wasn’t even supposed to be here. She was supposed to be off through the new year. But that damn blizzard had fucked her over too. She was snowed in and her replacement was snowed out. Or so they claimed. She was torn between hating the selfish asshat and understanding that this minimum-wage job was not worth driving through a blizzard and risking your life. She wasn’t sure if she would even choose to leave if she could.

  Not that she had the choice, because one of the goddamn Garlands was already on his way before the storm hit. And so she had to fucking play hostess to one entitled prick… not that she knew that he was a jerk. She’d just made the assumption after their five-minute phone conversation where he said he’d ‘play it by ear’ on whether he’d make it up to the Bayside after finishing his business downstate. Like she had nothing better to do than sit around waiting for him to make up his mind.

  She didn’t.

  She didn’t even have any internet. And every time the phone rang, she hoped it was Evan Fucking Garland calling to tell her that he was staying in the city. Instead, it was one of his family members ready to chew her out over their ruined vacation.

  Avery picked up her head and looked at the clock on the wall. Five-thirty. The sun would be setting soon. There was no way he was actually coming, right? She should try his cell again… after she got herself a cup of coffee… and helped herself to one of the tiny airplane bottles of Bailey’s they kept for the guests. And whiskey. And whipped cream.

  Rejuvenated, she pushed off the desk and practically skipped across the lobby on her way to the empty kitchen—the chef had been snowed out too. Normally, three or four staff ran the Bayside during the winter. Today, it was just her. So fuck it. She poured herself a double and headed back to her post.

  She’d just settled behind the reception desk when a gust of frigid air blew through the lobby and a goddamn yeti stomped over the threshold.

  “Hello?” she asked, peering over the counter, taking in the man standing in front of her. He was dressed to survive a week in the Alaskan tundra. Judging by the amount of snow and ice gathered in his beard, he might have just been through such an adventure.

  He pounded his feet against the floor, knocking snow off his boots, and pulled off his hat and gloves. He shook out a tangled mess of hair and pulled off his coat and hung it on a hook next to the fireplace.

>   “Hey, are you okay? You know we’re not just like open,” she said with a little more attitude than she’d intended. She couldn’t send someone back out into that storm, but he hadn’t even acknowledged her before he’d started making himself at home.

  “You damned well better be open. I was promised a weekend I’d never forget,” he said smoothly as he turned toward her with a wicked grin.

  Almost instinctively, she grabbed her oversized sweater and wrapped it around her frame, as that alone could protect her from this predator.

  “Mr. Garland?” she asked uneasily. She had said those words to Evan Garland over the phone. But about the lodge, the night sky, having the slopes to himself. There was no way this man in front of her was Evan Garland, heir to one of the biggest tech companies in the country.

  “Garland, no mister, unless you're into that,” he said, raking his eyes over her body—of which there was not much to look at since she’d surrounded it completely in a chunky wool force field.

  Strike that. This pompous ass most definitely was entitled enough to have a few million dollars of his daddy’s money.

  “As if you could actually handle me,” she spat back, then immediately bit her tongue and fought the urge to physically cover her mouth.

  Garland stared at her for what felt like an eternity before the corners of his mouth curved and he said, “Well, I’m sure it will only take one night to break you in.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  ____________

  AVERY

  She folded into herself further—if that was possible. Shivers ran down her spine as she crossed her arms over her chest. Her nipples were already hard and sensitive from that one fucking sentence.

  He was still grinning, like he could tell exactly what kind of effect that challenge had on her. It was a smug smile. The smile of a man who’s used to getting everything he wants. And he wanted her, for a weekend he’d never forget. So fucking entitled… and so fucking hot. There was something about the arctic explorer look that had her blood pumping from the second he walked in. Why did he look so rough?

  “First, I’m going to need a hot shower and a hot meal,” he said, closing the distance between them, causing Avery to slowly back away, silently grateful for the desk between them. “Then, I’m going to need you.”

  She rolled her eyes. “All right, Fabio. Does that line ever work?” She came back to her desk as the tension between them evaporated and grabbed his room key. “I have some news for you—I’m all you get for the weekend. It’s just you and me here for the foreseeable future. Merry Fucking Christmas.”

  “Perfect,” he whispered as he grabbed his backpack and followed her up the stairs.

  “How the hell is this perfect? You’re stuck in a hotel with a complete stranger instead of spending the holidays with your family.”

  “I like a challenge.”

  “What part of our interaction has indicated that I’m interested at all? Or do you just assume that because you’re hot and I’m stuck here with you that I won’t be able to keep my hands off of you?” She unlocked his door and threw it open, her feet remaining firmly planted in the hallway.

  “You flirted with me on the phone. Promised me a weekend I wouldn’t forget.”

  “It’s called customer service. Not flirting,” she spat back, throwing a hand on her hip.

  Garland tossed his bag into the room without taking his eyes off her. “You think I’m hot,” he said taking a step toward her.

  She took a half step back. “It’s just an objective observation.”

  He stalked closer. “You don’t trust yourself near me,” he whispered in a low growl.

  “It’s called personal space.” But he was right. The closer he got, the harder her heart pounded and the harder it was for her to breathe.

  “You’re wondering what I meant when I said that I would break you.”

  “Hadn’t crossed my mind. Plus, you’re just a trust-fund baby. I don’t think you’re the kind of man who could break me.”

  His eyes darkened, and she smiled wryly. “It’s okay,” she whispered, squaring her shoulders and seizing the upper hand. “I’m sure you don’t hear this often, because you’re probably surrounded by ass-kissers all day, but sometimes you just don’t have what it takes to get the job done.”

  He slammed his hands against the wall on either side of her head, but she stood her ground, trying to hide her surprise. The heat tearing through her body was harder to conceal. She tried to slow her breathing and put on a mask of stoicism as he lowered his face to hers.

  “You’re not scared of me,” he whispered.

  It wasn’t a question, and Avery wasn’t sure what would come out if she tried to answer. Every nerve ending in her body was screaming for his touch. She may have taunted him for his bank account, but the man in front of her was anything but a slick and polished businessman. His hair and beard were long and unkempt after his journey. His broad shoulders strained against his long-sleeved thermal shirt, as did the rest of his fucking chiseled arms.

  “I know exactly what you need, exactly what you want.” His hand left the wall and came to rest against the side of her cheek. His thumb slowly skated along her bottom lip. “I have exactly what it takes to quiet that mouth of yours.”

  She couldn’t tear her eyes away from his. He had her hypnotized. Her pussy throbbed each time his callused thumb passed by the center of her mouth, causing a deep ache to grow and grow between her legs.

  He pressed against her lip, and she opened just the slightest bit for him. Her mind was a million miles away from her body, and she was lost in his gaze. Like he’d slipped inside of her and found the darkest corners of her mind and knew exactly what to say to bring her to her knees.

  Garland’s other hand left the wall and fell between them, then snaked through the layers of her sweater as he gripped her waist with his fingers.

  He pulled his thumb from her mouth and returned to tracing the lines of her lip. She couldn’t feel his calluses anymore. His skin glided along hers, covering her dry lips in slick, warm heat.

  “See,” he said, bringing his forehead to hers. “You’re quiet.”

  He pulled on her lip, opening her mouth into a pout. The ache in her pussy thundered through her entire body, and every inch of her begged to be touched.

  His hand slipped from her waist, and he drove his fingers into the side of her leggings. He dragged his knuckles across her hips as he brought his hand to her stomach.

  Kiss him. Climb him. Slap him. Do something. But she couldn’t. She was frozen in place, silently willing that he would take it further. Her brain was screaming for more, but her body refused to listen, weighed down by desire.

  His rough hand slipped lower, into her panties.

  Don’t slap him. Don’t stop him. Don’t stop. Don’t stop.

  “You’re wet,” he whispered, dragging a finger up her slit, his knuckle grazing her clit.

  A quiet moan escaped her lips, and she arched in response to his exploring hand gliding up and down, up and down just light enough to make her desperate with need.

  “Please,” she pleaded, her breath ragged, heart hammering in her chest.

  “Hm?” He brought his mouth to hers, his lips taunting hers, refusing to make contact. “You’re supposed to be quiet.”

  The phone at the front desk rang, the muffled trill echoing around the lodge’s high ceiling.

  “You should answer that,” Garland instructed as he straightened his back and pulled his hand from her cunt.

  “No, no, no,” she pleaded. “There’s an answering machine.”

  “Go,” he said sternly, stepping aside, opening up her escape route down the hallway.

  “Fine. Then you can just go fuck yourself,” she spat as she stomped past him. She would let that phone ring. He couldn’t tell her what to do.

  Garland’s hand snapped around her wrist and hauled her back to him. “You won’t get away with that.”

  She tore from grip and spun a
way from him, adrenaline pumping. Just fucking watch me.

  CHAPTER THREE

  ____________

  GARLAND

  Watching her stomp down the hallway made his fucking cock jump. Which one of them was acting entitled and spoiled now?

  He dragged his hand over his face, smoothing his beard. His fingers still had her scent. Her cunt. That sweet metallic aroma. I made him feel so fucking powerful. He needed a shower, but he didn’t want to wash her off.

  He’d smell her again. He’d have her cunt fucking dripping next time he had her in his grasp.

  A door slammed below him, and the phone continued to ring. He smiled to himself. She was going to be quite the challenge. He loved challenges.

  Like this damned ski lodge located in the middle of nowhere. Everyone else in his family was trapped in L.A. He’d just been lucky enough to have business over this way. He could have flown home for Christmas, but where was the fun in that? He was already prepared for a week of skiing. So he’d traded his down-hill skis for a pair of cross-country ones and driven to Sweetwater. Then skied the miles and miles through the woods to the mountainside lodge. To Avery.

  He was lying to himself if he didn’t admit that she was half of the draw. A fucking live wire on the phone. He could tell she was already over his family. The Garlands could drive anyone off a cliff. He’d known full well when she promised a weekend he’d never forget that the sentiment was dripping with sarcasm.

  He’d anticipated rejection from her. Completely expected her to slam that door closed in his face. Maybe that’s why he’d come in with guns blazing and over-the-top come-ons.

  But then her eyes flashed, and she kept biting her lip. And she kept pushing and pulling. Until he’d gotten a hold of her. For those few minutes, she was his. He just needed to prove to her that’s what she wanted.

  Then you can just go fuck yourself. Was that what she was doing right now? Leaning against a door, foot perched on a shelf or chair, touching herself, taking care of what he’d left undone? No, she wouldn’t. She knows better.