I rolled over, ran my hand along his broad chest then brushed a sweet kiss on his lips.

"Mmm, morning Riley." His blue eyes sparkled and a smile pulled the edges of his lips. I was immediately overtaken by his all-encompassing arms, his tender kiss driving my heartbeat higher than a shot of espresso. Good God, Jeff Wigand. This is one hell of a delicious lover. Attentive, gentle, affectionate, verbal, effective and efficient. But also powerful.

I arrived at ten in the morning after a delightful one day visit with Cort. Walking into the Temple was like walking into a palace. Jeff was waiting at the door, strong, handsome, mature and so big. I walked into his protective arms and felt a gentle kiss on the top of my head.

"My, you're a little thing," he chuckled, then bent, arms tight around my waist and lifted me. I hugged his neck and sucked a kiss I've been wanting since the first time I saw his film. "Welcome, sweetie," he whispered, his voice so soft, so loving.

He took me on a quick tour of the Temple, ending with his room, as promised. And we've been there ever since. Yeah, yeah, I know. I am quite a tart. But Jesus, when a man finds no less than a hundred ways to make love to you, a thousand ways to tell you how beautiful you are, and ten thousand ways to bring you to climax, where else would you choose to be than in his bed? In his amazing arms, watching him smile and laugh? I was always crazy about Doc. But as the sun rose, painting the wall across from the window brilliant colors, I knew. Damn. I love him. He's so easy to love. Hell, they all are but this man is an open heart, waiting to be adored, deserving it.

Over breakfast in his room, of course, Doc leaned back and took a good vertical look at me. "So, Riley. Am I to assume you've quit smoking?" His eyebrow rose with curiosity.

"Well no, not really. I made a deal with myself. See, while I'm here with you, I won't have even one cigarette." I bit into my bagel.

"Really? Hmm. And how's that going for you?" He looked at his watch. "Twenty-four hours straight."

I sighed. "Well, I guess all right. I haven't really noticed that much."

He leaned forward over the table, brushing a kiss on my waiting lips. "We've been very busy."

I giggled. "Yes we have."

"What will happen when we're not very busy?"

I looked up, bit my lip, shrugged.

"Sweetie, do you really want to quit smoking? Because I can help you, but you need to know for sure."

I set down my coffee cup and took a long deep look into his eyes. "Yeah, I do. I'm sick of it, Jeff. The smell, the taste of it, the cost. I hate having to run out for cigarettes and worrying about having enough of them to get through the day or the night. I'm sick of feeling stuck, you know. Hell Jeff, I'm smoking three packs a day!"

He nodded, his head tilted, his fingers toying with the handle of his spoon. "I have a suggestion."

I watched his face, the serious consideration in the curl of his brow. "Sure."

"Let's say we just try to cut it down to maybe one pack or less a day."

I chuckled. "You'd be a miracle worker if you can do that. I always thought it was all or nothing."

"That's obsessive, compulsive behavior," he laughed, then leaned toward me. AAnd I don't think you're obsessive, compulsive. All we need to do sweetie, is determine how much of it is habitual, and how much is addictive."

"There's a difference?" I'd set down my coffee, all my attention on him.

"Yes, there is. Do you know when you really need a cigarette, as opposed to when you just pick one up and light it?"

I thought about that. "Wow, I think most of the time I just light up."

"That's habit. Habit can be broken a lot easier than addiction. Once you break habit, there's all kinds of help. Gum, the patch, hypnotism." His hand opened, his eyes became intense. "It's not easy. Addiction is gripping, sometimes disabling but you can do it, sweetie."

I took a deep breath, as well and deep as a small woman who smokes three packs a day can, anyway. "All right, how do we do this?"

He smiled. "Where are your cigarettes?"

I fished them out of my purse and prepared to hand them to him. Hesitated.

"Have one, Riley."

Thank God! I tapped the pack, pulled out a cigarette. Jeff lit it for me and watched me sigh. Damn, that felt sooooo good. I looked around for an ashtray. Duh! Like there would actually be an ashtray in Jeff Wigand's suite. He slid his saucer to me then picked up the pack, tucking it into his shirt pocket.

"Here's how we'll do this, Riley. I'll hold these. When you really need one, you tell me and I'll give it to you."

He must have seen that terrified expression I was trying to hide.

"I promise," he sighed, tilted his head. "But, you need to begin to identify when you really need one. Not just when you want one. Understand?"

"What if I can't do this?" I was starting to panic, sucking on my cigarette like crazy.

"You can. Just trust yourself."

w

By our third day together, I was smoking fifteen cigarettes a day. Less than a pack! Four or five of those, post coital. I told you, insatiable! Anyway, I could feel that we were heading for the next step in this "Wigand Smoke Less Program." I was having my after breakfast smoke when he smiled this wicked grin at me.

"What?"

"Play chess, Riley?"

"Yes I do." Granted, not great, but I could hold my own, even with a genius like Jeff. I couldn't tell you the moves, knight to queen's rook 3, but I knew them.

"Well," he stood and headed for the bedroom. "I think we'll play by the pool. We should get out of this room and get some sun."

Cool with me. I snuck into the bathroom and pulled on my bikini, wrapped a towel around my waist and slithered past him. If he'd have caught me, we might be adding another cigarette to my post coital list. He chuckled and we went downstairs.

Good Lord, the Temple is absolutely amazing! I'd been there three days, and really not seen much of it. And not one Brother either. As we walked out to the pool, I began to understand why. I had mentioned to Doc that I wanted to speak with Andy while I was there. Then I said something about hopefully running into East. Looking into his face as these two and several other Brothers charged me; I clearly understood his reasoning behind keeping me in his room. Poor Jeff was literally shoved away. I was kissed by so many men I swear, I didn't know which end was up. They were coming out of the woodwork!

"Whoa! Wait!" I shouted, searching for Jeff. He was sitting alone on the far side of the pool, setting up a chess board at the table under a brilliant yellow umbrella. I turned and scanned the beautiful faces around me, landing on one I knew. "Jack!"

He stepped forward with a genuine smile, leaned in for a sweet kiss then held both my hands in his. "My little dear. I'd forgotten how beautiful you are." His blue eyes twinkled, explored my bikini then came back to my face.

"Jack, I just saw you three weeks ago in Niagara Falls," I giggled.

"Far too long, my dear."

I was then introduced to John Nash. Strange guy, but really sweet. Alex. Oh my. Arthur, man, it took almost ten minutes to get him to stop talking. Made me laugh. East, and Andy. Taking them aside, I asked if I may speak to them at another time.

"Why not now, love?" East said smoothly, his fingers trailing down my cheek.

"Well, I'm with Doc this week, you know that," I smiled.

He then pressed a really deep kiss, taking my breath away. "You'll find me in the stable, when you're ready to chat, mate." He winked and walked off.

I turned to Andy. "Um, Andy. It's really important that I talk to you. Can we have breakfast together tomorrow morning?"

"Sure." His eyebrows rose then he gave one cocky glance at the rest of them and strolled off, proud as a peacock. Poor kid. Had no idea all I wanted to do was offer him a job at the Inn. I turned to Jeff and the chess board.

He was concentrating on setting up the pieces as Arthur brought a tray and set it down, then poured iced tea, overfilling the glass and leaping with embarrassment. "Saints preserve us! Sorry, sorry!"

"It's fine," I said, using my towel to catch the dripping.

"I'll get more!" And he ran off.

"You've caught the boy's imagination, sweetie," Jeff said, mopping up the last of the spilled iced tea and setting the wet towel aside. "Now, here are the rules."

I sat up straight. Why did I get the feeling things were going to get tougher? I swallowed hard, reminded myself that I just had a cigarette and really didn't need one, but damn, I wanted one.

Jeff leaned back in his chair, his brows curled but a smile on his lips. I swear it was almost one of those evil grins from a cartoon. Snidely Whiplash. "During play, you may not have a cigarette. Only when a game has ended and only if you need one. How does that sound to you?"

"Um." Shit. "Well." Damn, I love a challenge. "Fine. First move is yours."

All right. This is how the next few days went. The first game, I got down right clobbered. Check mate in four moves. Hell, if it went on like that, I'd have no problem having a smoke any damn time I pleased. But Jeff's too smart for that. Each consecutive game took longer and longer. We were still sitting at the pool when it got dark, carrying the board up to the suite carefully so as not to shuffle pieces out of place. As the evening wore on, I was feeling the terrible need for a cigarette and actually considered throwing the game, but I just couldn't. By the time we climbed into bed, I'd only had six cigarettes all day and only won two games to Jeff's seven. That was fine. I'd get him tomorrow.

But my brain was intermeshed with chess moves. As we made love I found myself thinking, if I put my hand here, he'll move his there and if I turn this way, he'll move that way and if I want him to do this, I need to do that. What a marvel to realize that life and battle and getting what you want is just a freaking chess game!

w

I woke at the crack of dawn, set up the chess board, made my first move, dressed and snuck downstairs to find Andy. Jeff was sound asleep.

In the beautiful kitchen, Andy made unbelievable omelets, light as air and more flavorful than any I've ever tasted, loaded with spinach, asiago cheese, fresh tomatoes and caramelized shallots. He'd fresh squeezed orange juice and pulled fresh baked Yorkshires out of the oven, then bowled apple butter that tasted like heaven.

"Andy, where did you get this apple butter? It's fantastic!"

He sat across from me, flipped a napkin on his lap and shrugged. "Made it, love. Easy." He broke open his Yorkshire.

"This is great!" I loaded my fork and stuffed myself.

"Thanks."

"Are you cooking somewhere?" I asked, afraid to look into his eyes, far too preoccupied with spreading apple butter into the luscious tender holes of my Yorkshire.

"Yeah, sort of. Not real happy though."

I looked up. "Don't like cooking?"

"Don't like the job. No advancement, mate. Still line cook. Two fuckin' years. Don't need the money. Maybe I'll do somthin' else." He shrugged.

I took a deep breath. Here goes. "Andy. If you really love to cook, I need a creative souse chef at the Inn." I wanted to say I needed him. I wanted to beg. Nothing would make John and me happier than to have a Brother there with us. He blinked, and I realized I needed to say more.

"Look, I understand that it means leaving the Temple. But Vermont is beautiful. The kitchen will be all new and if you come on board, you can help me design it. We'll set it up exactly the way we want it. You'll have freedom with the menu, freedom to be as creative as you like."

He set his fork down, leaned back.

I just blinked and waited.

"I'd be workin' under ya?"

"Yes."

"But I'd get to experiment, right?"

"Absolutely. The local products are wonderful, Andy. Fresh produce, poultry and meats. Fabulous cheese. I mean, there are a few traditional items we have to have on the menu, but you can do so much there. The sky's the limit. I'm a good chef, but I need you. I will be running the Inn with John most of the time. I'll just manage the kitchen. You will be the culinary master."

I shuffled in my seat, leaning across the table toward him. "And you won't be alone, Andy. I don't believe in running a sweat shop. You'll hire your staff. Hire for skill, or teach them what you want them to be." I actually hopped up and down on my seat. "And . . ."

"Oi...oi...love. Ya had me at 'if ya really love to cook' I'm in. When does this place open?"

Success! "Not till late next summer, but you'll need to come to Vermont in November if you want to be part of the kitchen design."

"I'll be there. Now," he stood then knelt at my feet. "What do I gotta do get ya to ask for a visit, Riley? Before ya become my bloody boss?"

I placed my hands on his beautiful face. My God, he was so young, so handsome. I kissed his lips softly. "I'll ask for you soon." He returned the kiss with enthusiasm, as if to convince me I wouldn't be disappointed. Of course, that wasn't necessary. "Damn, Andy. You're going to drive the Vermont maidens crazy." I giggled.

He smiled, a twinkle in his perfect blue eyes.

w

Back in the suite, Jeff was in the shower. I checked the chess board. He'd made his move. I counter moved, then stripped and went into the bathroom. Sneaking into the shower, I stood away, against the wall, watching his back as he massaged shampoo in his hair. I thought about how beautiful Jeff is, how substantial, physically, and emotionally. How supportive and loving. And I realized that he was special among his Brothers. Different. A man built with wisdom, integrity and knowledge. Solid.

He stepped under the spray and rinsed. As he moved back, I ran my hands gently from the small of his back to his shoulders then kissed the skin there. So warm, pulsing with the water's heat. He turned, wrapping me tight in his wet embrace, his lips taking mine sensuously. "My sweetie," he sighed. "I thought perhaps you'd gotten tired of me."

"Never, Jeff." I stretched tall, wrapping my arms around his sturdy neck. "Never."

"Where'd you go off to?" His hands cupped my breasts, taking the nipples in tender twists, drawing a moan from me.

"I needed to talk to Andy. He accepted the job."

His mouth was trailing down my neck, sucking delicious tingles that raged all the way to my crotch. "What job?"

"He's going to be my sous chef at the Inn." I gasped as his fingers massaged my mound, slipped into the soft folds there, dipped into the thick, inviting moisture.

"You do realize," he said, just before devouring my breast. "You're taking away my favorite chicken romano, don't you?"

I groaned as his fingers dove deep, his mouth sucked hard. "You'll have to tell me how to make it up to you."

"Oh, you'll make it up to me, Riley," he chuckled then lifted me over his shoulder.

I squealed and was dropped on the bed with a bounce, giggling and shivering. Jeff, tugged at the sheets until he could cover us both then slithered beneath them, a wet, exciting slide down my body, his mouth sucking all the way. Jesus, what this man can do! His fingers found their way deep again, slipping and slithering in and out, curling and twisting. My hands buried in his wet hair and I sighed, relaxing under his tongue's caress. So easy, so smooth. Nobody loves a woman like Jeff. He caters to every part of the body, ignoring nothing, seeking more ways to please.

As his tongue pressed deep inside of me, I rolled my hips closer, wanting more, craving what he had to offer. With Jeff, it wasn't about explosive, quick climax. It was about loving, slow manipulation. The kind that drives me wild. Makes me beg. He rolled me over, sliding beneath me, his mouth never letting go, his tongue still deep and probing, the texture of it tingling waves of delight. His hands massaged my hips, pressing me down.

Worried that he couldn't breathe under there, I push aside the sheets. That move precipitated his next. Again I was rolled over and Jeff released my writhing pussy, climbing up over me, his body warming me, flushing me with even more of his heat and I was panting. Leaning on his elbows, he pushed my hair back, looking into my eyes. "I love you, sweetie. Really love you."

A tear stung my eyes. Except for John, no other Brother has ever spoken those words to me before I had said them first. I was touched beyond belief, reaching for his mouth, kissing Jeff deeper and with more intention that I can remember. "I love you too," I whispered. "So much."

He slowly guided his solid cock deep into me, a deliberate slide, inch by inch. I raised my knees to his chest and he kissed them, raising up and pushing himself deeper with a groan. "So good! Jesus, sweetie."

This was the deepest he'd gone, the head of him bumping my aching womb. He set my ankles over his shoulders and began his advance, pressing in a rhythm that toyed with my senses, taking them close, holding them at the plateau then pulling them higher. One hand worked my nipple as the other thudded a perfect press on my clit. Shaking, trembling, gasping, I held off, waiting for Jeff, wanting to reach the pinnacle with him, wanting to feel the waves crash us both together.

He cried out just as I was ignited. Fireworks. No shit! Behind my eyes were sparkles of light, blasting and blazing as he shuttered, pulsing into me. "Jesus fucking Christ!" he shouted.

I actually laughed. Exhausted and spent, I couldn't help it. In four days, I'd never once heard Jeff Wigand swear.

And the games continued. Each game took longer and longer. It was my last day at the Temple. My last day with Jeff. And either I was getting better at chess, or he was trying to hold off the inevitable. In the suite, we'd started the game at ten in the morning. It was nearly seven that evening and I had not had one cigarette. I hadn't beat him once since that first day of the marathon. There were still fourteen pieces left on the board. I can tell you right now, I certainly had come to understand the difference between habit and addiction. I was craving nicotine so badly, I could hardly see straight.

At eight, there were nine pieces left. I was losing. Or winning. How the hell would I know, every piece was looking like a Bic lighter to me. I was tapping my nails, chewing on the tip of a bishop when he glared up at me. "Sorry." He made his move then leaned back, eyes intense on the board. I made a move I thought would be safe, the marble bishop still in my mouth, twisting it with my hand. My fingers were shaking so hard, I dropped it. "Sorry." I said again, kneeling to search for it under the table. It was near his foot.

Idea.

"Ah, Jeff?"

"Huh?" He was obviously still engrossed in the game.

My shaking palms slid a slow tremble from his knees to his hips. He slid the chair back a few inches, gazed down at me, eyebrows raised. I shrugged. "It's not a cigarette."

A tiny grin pulled at the corner of his perfect mouth. I unsnapped his jeans and slowly dragged the zipper down. Jeff stood slightly as I tugged his pants and boxers to his ankles, then he sat, simply returned his attention to the table and the remaining chess pieces.

I kissed his knee, my hand sliding his foot out so that I could reach beneath, licking the soft skin. My hands, still shaking mind you, dragged lightly along his calf, tickling the hairs and I heard him sigh. I sucked a kiss on the inside of his thigh, wet, hot, licking deep and groaning. His scent beckoned me, pulling me deeper toward his heat.

There, at the center, he was soft, silent. Just before I touched him with my lips, wanting to kiss the tender meatiness, I felt his muscles tighten, heard the clack of a chess piece above. "Check," he said.

My head jerked up, cracking against the bottom of the heavy mahogany table with a loud thump.

The chair slid back another few inches and he bent down, looking at me, concern in his eyes as I rubbed my head. His huge hands settled over mine and he chuckled. "Ah, sweetie," he mumbled, but I pressed my palms against his chest, forcing him back up, and dove for his sleeping cock.

I love when sex begins like that. Taking a man from zero to sixty in less than a minute. My mouth sucked in the tender flesh, my lips pressing on it, my tongue massaging it. I could actually feel the flow of blood, rushing, pulsing him to life. I sucked, enjoying the texture and softness until it was no more. It grew and thumped Jeff's heartbeat, hard and demanding against the inside of my mouth. Man, nothing felt as great. Nothing. A cigarette was the last thing on my mind at that moment. Talk about oral fixation!

Feeling every inch of him, wet and slithering along the inside of my cheeks, I sucked soft tugs, repeating for as long as I could. Jeff's hands were in my hair, his voice soft and throaty. "Don't choke, sweetie. Careful." He huffed delight, and I sucked deeper. As deep as possible, opening my throat for him, wanting him.

His hips slid to the edge of his seat and I knelt up, my head clear of the table, bobbing over him, sliding his straining cock almost out, then deep as possible. In this position, I could reach his balls, loose over the edge of the chair. I lowered and licked, long and wet along them, then lapped them into my mouth, rolling them easily with my tongue, smiling as he tensed his hips, dropped his head back and hissed. "Mmm..." I moaned.

There was a sense of desperation growing in my chest, an uncontrollable desire to please Jeff, take him to the height of his passion, between my lips. Gently releasing his balls, again I focused on the head of his shaft, red and begging, jerking with excitement. I lapped his pre-come, the delicious flavor of salty sweetness. I sucked, oh so slowly, taking a fraction of an inch, stopping, pulling more. He groaned and sighed. Finally deep in, I tugged sharp drags, releasing him only a little, pulling him back, touching my throat, ever so slightly.

His breath became short pants in perfect rhythm with my sucks, and I moved faster, with more urgency.

"Ahh, Jesus!" he cried.

Deeper, deeper, nearly swallowing the head of his cock, I breathed through my nose, evenly, slowly, carefully, not wanting to break his momentum, my pressure. Suddenly, Jeff tensed completely, his hips lifting from the seat, my head tight against him, his palms pressing my hair. His explosion drove down my throat, I swallowed desperately, lapping every tiny bit, sucking. Loving.

His hands pulled under my arms, bringing me up, kissing my mouth breathlessly. "Feel better?" He smiled, his eyes twinkling

"Uh-huh," I moaned into his mouth. We giggled then he slid out of the chair making room for me to stand. He pointed across the table.

"Your move, sweetie," Jeff tugged his jeans up and settled back into the chair, pushing his hair back, still catching his breath.

I looked at the board. Damn. Lifting my white knight, I slid it two squares forward and one to the left. Looking up at Jeff, seeing the shock on his face, I knew I'd done it.

"Checkmate!" I squealed.

He lifted his black king and placed it in my palm with a smile. "Checkmate it is."