Man Feast (Bergen Brothers Book 2) Page 11

  “I owe Jasper a debt of gratitude,” Allen answered. “If it weren’t for him, Marla wouldn’t be with us today.”

  “You don’t know the story?” Marla asked. “I shouldn’t be surprised. Jasper was always so humble. It has to be twelve years ago now. Our family had spent the day skiing here at Bergen Mountain. Allen and our boys were ready to call it a day, but I wanted to get in one more run. It was almost my last.”

  Elle leaned forward. “What happened?”

  “I was coming down Harriet’s Descent, one of the more difficult runs on the mountain, but I’d done it plenty of times. Well, a snowboarder came out of nowhere, and before I knew it, I was tumbling down the slope. Jasper was on ski patrol and was the first to find me.”

  “Were you hurt?” Elle asked, surprised when it wasn’t Marla who answered.

  “At first, it just looked like she’d had a bad fall,” Jasper said, quietly, breaking into the conversation.

  Marla nodded. “But then you noticed that I didn’t recognize you. I’ve known Jasper his whole life. He said, ‘Mrs. Parker, it’s Jasper Bergen. Are you all right?’”

  Jasper swallowed hard. “And you said, ‘You can’t be Jasper Bergen. He’s only a baby.’ That’s when I knew there was a good chance you had a head injury.”

  Marla smiled. “That’s when Jasper radioed in for the sled, and he insisted I be airlifted back to Denver.”

  “And a good thing he did,” Allen continued. “Marla had a subdural hematoma. Had she not gone into emergency surgery as quickly as she did, she probably wouldn’t be with us today.”

  Jasper’s grip tightened on her hand. “I was just doing my job.”

  Marla teared up. “You’re the reason my boys still have their mother, Jasper Bergen. That’s not just doing your job, dear.”

  They sat quietly, Marla wiping her eyes and Jasper gripping her hand, when a gentle knock broke through the silence.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Parker, your treatment room is ready.”

  “Oh, my goodness,” Marla said, coming to her feet. “I didn’t mean to get all emotional. Let’s not wait so long to see each other again, Jasper. We’ll have to do dinner soon. I don’t think we’ve seen you since…” Marla trailed off.

  Allen extended his hand to Jasper. “It’s good to see you, son.”

  Jasper stood and shook the man’s hand. “You, too, Allen.”

  Marla went to Jasper and hugged him, and Elle watched as he robotically reciprocated.

  The Parkers left the room, and Jasper dropped onto the couch and leaned forward.

  She sat next to him, and before she could say a word, he took her hand and laced their fingers together. This moment felt so raw, so fragile. Holding his hand was like trying to keep a snowflake from disappearing into an avalanche. But he didn’t need her pity or her sympathy. He needed her. Every cell in her body was sure of it.

  Elle tilted her head, met his gaze, and gave him the hint of a smile. “So, you weren’t always a buttoned-up control freak? You actually used to help people?”

  Jasper chuckled, his stony exterior peeling away. “I’ve always been the most reserved of the Bergen brothers, but, yeah, I used to be—”

  “Less of an asshat?” she supplied.

  “A little less.” He caught her gaze, and those steel-blue eyes held her captive. “Thank you, Elle.”

  “For what?”

  He stared down at their joined hands. “You know. For what you did with the Parkers. For steering the conversation away from my parents.”

  “It seemed like a difficult topic.”

  His cool CEO exterior vanished, and in its place, she saw a man. A real man with pain so deep it took her breath away.

  He squeezed her hand. “I couldn’t save them, Elle. I’d helped dozens, maybe hundreds of people the four years I was on ski patrol. I even had EMT training. I’d just been accepted to med school. But none of that mattered. I couldn’t save them.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Jasper released a shaky breath. “The world knows that Griffin and Hannah Bergen died in a car accident. What they don’t know is that my brothers and I were in the car ahead of them. It was right after Bren had won big in the Winter X Games. Cam, Bren, and I were riding together, and my parents were following behind us. The games weren’t at Bergen Mountain that year. We probably should have stayed at the resort and driven home the next morning, but we wanted to get back to the cottage. It was our favorite place as kids, and we wanted to go there and celebrate. We had to take the back roads home because the main pass was closed due to ice. It was just us out there on the road. Bren, Cam, and I were screwing around when a deer came out of nowhere. We stopped as fast as we could, but it caught my dad off guard, and to avoid hitting us, he overcorrected, and their car went off the side of the road.”

  “Jasper, I’m so sorry.”

  “I climbed down. They’d fallen a good fifty yards. My dad had no pulse by the time I got there.”

  “And your mom?”

  He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles as if he were trying to rub out the memory. “On patrol, we’re taught to check a patient’s level of alertness. We ask if they know who they are, where they are, and see if they know when they are?”

  “I don’t understand the when they are part?”

  He gave her a sad smile. “Remember how Marla was confused and thought it was twenty years ago when I found her after her fall?”

  She nodded.

  “My mom was the same way. She thought I was my dad. She kept saying, ‘Griff, Griff, check the boys. Check the babies. Check our little stars.’ That’s what she called us when we were small.”

  He paused, and she gave his hand a little squeeze, a kinesthetic nudge letting him know it was safe to go on.

  He swallowed hard. “The doors were smashed in. I couldn’t even get her out of the car. I couldn’t start CPR. She died right there, thinking she was talking to my dad, worried that my brothers and I were hurt.”

  “I’m so sorry, Jasper. I’m so sorry that happened.”

  He nodded but said nothing.

  She met his gaze. “I’ve been all over the world, and I’ve met lots of people from many different cultures. There are so many things that separate us, but there’s one thread that weaves us all together.”

  “What’s that?” he asked with a whisper.

  “Love. Your parents loved you. They wouldn’t want you carrying this burden.”

  He nodded, more to himself than to her. “You always seem to know what to say—even if it’s to call me out.”

  She released a nervous laugh. “If we’re taking a time-out from verbally pummeling each other, I should apologize. I’m sorry about the article. It blindsided you, and I should have given you a heads-up.”

  He rubbed circles into her palm. “I read it after you left.”

  The butterflies erupted in her belly. She only wrote for one person, but now it looked like there might be two people on this planet whose approval she craved. “And?”

  He cracked a wry grin. “It wasn’t bad.”

  “Wasn’t bad?” she echoed with mock incredulity.

  He took a lock of her hair and stared at it as he twisted it around his finger. “I see why people like you. You’re writing pulls them in. It’s like you want the reader right there with you, experiencing what you’re going through firsthand. Your words are enchanting. You, Eleanor Reynolds, are bewitching.” He released the lock of hair and cupped her face in one hand, tilting her head up. He pressed a whisper-soft kiss to the corner of her mouth. “How do we always end up like this?”

  She sighed. “Like what?”

  “Me, unable to maintain my hollow bunny mask, wanting to peel off your clothes and sink deep inside you.”

  She hummed her pleasure as he kissed her cheek and then her earlobe. “Remember, asshat, you can’t be a hollow bunny if you can salsa. And I would be willing to admit that whatever this is, it’s a hell of a lot better than wanting to claw each other’s face
s off,” she answered, melting into his touch.

  The pendulum inside her heart had swung again. One minute, she wanted Jasper Bergen exiled to the North Pole, the next, she wanted to wield a sword and protect him from his demons.

  “Must be your witchcraft,” he whispered.

  “Brujería,” she breathed as his lips brushed against hers.

  Just then—someone who didn’t happen to be her or Jasper—cleared their throat. “You must be here for the couple’s massage,” came a woman’s voice with a thick German accent.

  They froze.

  Jasper smiled against her lips. “I forgot where we were.”

  “Yeah, me too,” she answered, coming back from that place where only the two of them existed.

  They pulled apart to find two women grinning at them. Standing almost six feet tall with their blond hair pulled into tight buns, each looked like a poster girl for an eastern European shot put competition.

  “I am Helga, and this is Inga. We’ll be your massage therapists today.”

  Jasper tensed. “I’m just here to watch.”

  Inga scrunched up her face. “We don’t allow that at the Bergen Spa, sir.”

  He shook his head, emphatically. “No! I’m sorry. That sounded creepy. I just don’t do massages.”

  Inga looked at her counterpart. “The reservation says you do.”

  Elle bit back a smile. “I booked the thirty-minute couple’s massage. It’s the shortest one they offer. Come on! Push your limits. Take a step out of your comfort zone. You may be surprised by what you find.”

  He stared at her as if she’d just turned water into wine.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Someone else has given me that advice before.”

  The air in the room shifted. This meant something to Jasper. She held his gaze, unable to decipher what he was thinking, then gave him her most bewitching smile.

  “It’s good advice. You should take it.”

  9

  Jasper

  “People like this?”

  “Yes, people like this,” Elle answered with a relaxed sigh.

  Jasper shifted under the thin sheet separating his ass from mooning Helga as she kneaded his shoulders like they were bread dough. He sucked in a tight breath. He was fine being naked with Eleanor Reynolds. What he wasn’t digging was the addition of the massage therapist wonder twins.

  “Just close your eyes and focus on your body,” she said on a dreamy exhale.

  “If I close my eyes, I won’t be able to focus on your body.”

  Elle’s eyes were closed, but a sexy grin pulled at the corners of her mouth.

  That wasn’t a lie. The only thing getting him through this massage nightmare without turning into a complete sour puss was that he was lying on a table, inches away from her. Her head rested on her crossed arms as one of the therapists rubbed cream on her back, and he could have stared at her for eternity.

  She’d twisted her hair into a loose bun, and he gazed at the curve of her neck, the soft angles of her shoulder blades, and the sweet curl of her lips. She smiled in her sleep, too. He’d stroked her cheek and watched her last night. Lit by the fire, her tousled hair, her lips, red and plump from his kisses, she looked like something out of a dream. A dream he hadn’t realized he’d had.

  He reached out and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

  “You’re not concentrating,” she whispered.

  He ran his fingertips down her jawline. “Oh, I’m concentrating.”

  The dim treatment room smelled of vanilla and honey as a gentle, soothing rhythm of some New Age tune floated through the air. He inhaled and exhaled, taking in the sweet scent, unable to look away from her.

  Seeing the Parkers had thrown him for a loop. They’d been a huge part of his life growing up. Birthday parties. Holiday celebrations. He’d skied with their kids hundreds of times during his childhood. But after his parents died, he’d cut them out of his life. Besides work, he’d shunned everything that reminded him of his parents. The fun. The love. The good times. He’d shut them out. He’d never even spoken of his parents’ death. His brothers didn’t even know their mother’s last words.

  But Elle did, and surprisingly, that didn’t scare him.

  In fact, all he wanted to do was take her in his arms and tell her about all the little things. Eating hamburgers piled with pickles with his family on the mountain after a long day racing down the slopes. Cannonball contests in the pool. Nights where they’d snuggle together and watch old movies.

  He’d locked it all away, hidden it behind a punishing schedule and a rigid drive in pursuit of one single goal: ensuring the Bergen legacy.

  “You are quite tense, Mr. Bergen,” the therapist said, massaging the muscles at the base of his neck.

  “Yes, Helga, I think Jasper could use some deep tissue work,” Elle chimed.

  His eyes went wide. “Nothing deep, Helga. Shallow is perfectly acceptable.”

  Elle chuckled.

  “Are you laughing at me?” he asked through a grin.

  She opened her eyes and met his gaze. “No, but I think you’re starting to grow on me.”

  “Starting?” he teased.

  Inga scooped out a handful of lotion and rubbed it across Elle’s back. “We’re about finished, Miss Reynolds. I’m applying the vanilla cream. It’s completely organic. You could even eat it with a spoon if you wanted to.”

  Elle licked her lips, and suddenly, he was very fucking hungry.

  Helga clapped her hands. “And that is all for you, Mr. Bergen.”

  Thank Christ!

  “What happens now?” he asked.

  “We’ll give you some time to relax. There’s no rush to leave.”

  Music to his ears and to his throbbing cock. And no wonder he was tense! Lying next to a naked and moaning Elle—unable to have her—while a large German woman squeezed his appendages for thirty minutes constituted as torture in his book.

  The massage therapists left the room, and Elle pushed up onto her elbows. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

  He gave her a wolfish grin. “If you’re thinking we need to make sure that cream is edible, I’m your man.”

  She gestured with her chin toward the fancy container containing the vanilla lotion. “What are you waiting for?”

  He slid off the massage table, wrapped the sheet around his waist, and picked up the delicate jar. Twisting off the lid, he set it aside and dipped his index finger into the cream.

  “Well?” she asked.

  “You tell me.” He pressed his finger to her lips. Elle opened her mouth and sucked on the tip of his finger, sending a jolt of lust straight to his already aching balls.

  “Mmm,” she hummed. “It’s sweet. You should try it.”

  “That’s what I’m about to do.” He traced a line with his tongue from the nape of her neck down to the base of her spine.

  Fucking ambrosia.

  She looked over her shoulder. “What do you think?”

  What did he think? He couldn’t think. All his senses on overload, he reveled in her taste, her touch, her scent. Years spent shunning pleasure had left him dry and withered—a man dying of thirst in a desert of his own design. He pressed a kiss to each of her shoulder blades, and she sighed, the sound washing over him like sweet summer rain, soaking his wilted soul.

  “I think this is the best part of the massage,” he answered.

  She sat up. “You know how après-ski is when everyone has drinks after a day on the slopes.”

  He nodded, unsure of where she was going with this.

  “Maybe you’re just an après massage kind of guy.”

  He sat down next to her and kissed her shoulder. “I couldn’t agree more.”

  A devious twinkle sparkled in her eyes. “But I don’t want you to abandon massage altogether. Can we try something?”

  “Does it involve that cream?”

  The tip of her tongue wet her lips. “Yep.” She stood and patted the m
assage table. “I need you to lie down on your back. You’ll also need to lose the sheet.”

  That was not a problem. He pulled at the thin fabric, allowing it to pool at his feet and stood in front of her.

  “Somebody’s ready for a happy ending. I had no idea Helga had such an effect on you,” she said, staring at his hard length.

  “Helga did not do this to me,” he countered.

  She cocked her head to the side. “No?”

  He bit back a grin. “It was Inga.”

  She gasped in mock surprise. “Did Jasper Bergen make a joke? Is there a sense of humor buried deep beneath that growly CEO exterior?”

  He cupped her cheek. “Would you like to know what I would like to be buried deep inside?”

  A sexy smile pulled at the corner of her mouth. “Oh, I’ve got an idea. Lie back.”

  He reclined onto the table, finally able to relax now that Inga and Helga were gone. But it was more than that. It was Elle. With her, he was different. The one-dimensional life he’d lived these past ten years couldn’t exist on the same plane as Elle Reynolds.

  There were no tasks to be marked off a list—no cost-benefit analysis.

  Everything here was fresh and unscripted. Multidimensional and layered. For Christ’s sake! He’d salsa danced last night, and this morning, he’d nearly made love to her on the snowmobile.

  “Are you ready?” she asked, holding up the jar of edible cream.

  “Do I have any say in what’s about to happen?”

  She dropped the sheet draped around her body. “Nope.”

  “Would you like a suggestion?”

  She walked around the massage table. “You’re not the CEO in here, Mr. Bergen.”

  He bit back a grin. “I technically am.”

  She stood at the end of the table then climbed onto it, scaling his body before settling herself on his torso. She raised her hands and started waving them around as if she was cleaning off some invisible surface.

  “Should I be concerned?” he asked, skimming his hands over her ass.

  She grinned. “I’m erasing your story.”

  “It’s that easy?”

  She met his gaze. “Dean Largecox entered Jemima Sex Kitten’s office.”