Hot Alaska Nights

by Lucy Monroe

  What was it about this guy?

  Everything about him turned her on. Every touch was perfectly targeted, causing a conflagration of desire in her.

  She made a stab at reason. "I have an early call time tomorrow."

  "Not as early as Carey's." There was definite satisfaction in Rock's voice.

  "You sound a little too gleeful about that." Her words came out more breathy than the teasing tone she'd intended.

  But his hands worked sexual black magic on her body, even through the layers of her clothes.

  "I may still be a little bit pissed at him," Rock admitted against her ear, blowing soft puffs of heated air in more shiver inducing sensation. "Even if his actions brought you here."

  Warmth unfurled inside her at the knowledge he saw her as a benefit to his brother's undoubtedly annoying finagling.

  "You were really nice to him at dinner." Kinder than she'd expected.

  "He's my brother."

  Who Rock didn't mind waking up a couple of extra hours early to guide the director and his crew, but who he would ultimately protect, even from himself.

  Rock slid his hand under her sweater and up the naked skin of her belly to cup her breasts, the silk of her bra no barrier to the calloused pads of his fingers. "Why are we talking about my brother?"

  "I don't know." She inhaled sharply as he pinched her taut peaks.

  "Flip that switch." He directed her head with his own so she saw a single switch to the right of the sink.

  She reached out and pressed it, dropping the kitchen into immediate darkness. The shades had not yet been drawn over the five-foot-wide, countertop to ceiling window over the sink.

  Moonlight bathed the meadow beyond in a silver glow, the sky such a dark blue it was almost black, the stars blinking through the break in the clouds, ethereal in their beauty.

  She gasped again, this time from the sheer gorgeousness of the night sky.

  How had Carey managed to leave this behind?

  "You would understand better than I," Rock said, indicating she'd asked the question out loud. "You have the same passion for the business."

  "It's our dream." Though what part of it was her dream and how much of her efforts were meant to prove something to people who stopped acknowledging her existence eleven years ago, she couldn't really say.

  "Dreams." The wealth of disparagement in that single word was mind-boggling.

  She turned in his arms, so she could look up into his face. Though cast in shadow, it wasn't hard to see the granite set to his jaw.

  She reached up and laid her hand against his stubble roughed cheek. "Dreams feed our heart."

  "It's a good thing I don't have one then."

  "I don't believe that."

  He looked down at her, his sherry eyes glittering blackly in the darkness of the kitchen. "Don't make the mistake of thinking because I love my siblings, I have anything resembling a real heart."

  "That doesn't make any sense."

  "This between us is sex. You know that. It's all you could possibly want."

  "Why? Because I'm an actor?"

  "Because your life is in LA and mine is very clearly here."

  "You have to travel, Mr. Big Time Venture Capitalist."

  "You're not looking for a long-distance relationship."

  "I'm not looking for anything right now." This whole thing had come out of left field for her.

  She'd come to Alaska to make a movie, not find a boyfriend, or something more. Honestly, she was still reeling from how quickly she'd responded to him.

  It didn't help that with all the thoughts swirling through her head, her desire had not abated even a little bit. She was supremely aware of how close he stood, of every point which their bodies connected.

  "Good." The finality in his tone said the conversation was over for him.

  His lips covering hers insured it was over for her, too.

  Not ready to talk about things still confused in her own head, she gave in easily, responding to his kiss and reveling in the knowledge that he was going to make love to her again.

  After minutes of the mind-shattering lip-lock, he broke his mouth from hers to tug her sweater over her head. He didn't stop there but stripped the clothes from her body interspersed with kisses and caresses that kept her heartrate in the stratosphere and the pleasure inexorably building inside her body.

  He looked down at her, her body pale in the moonlight from the window. "That's better."

  "You said you wanted me naked." And this man was used to getting what he wanted.

  It might even be a religion for him.

  "I did."

  "I think I'd like you naked too."

  His brow rose, his craggy features cast in taunting lines. "Would you?"

  "Oh yes." And she wasn't going to wait for him to acquiesce.

  She immediately started on the buttons of his shirt, loving the glimpse of whorls of hair over a chest way too muscular for a man who made his living behind a desk.

  He dropped his slacks even as she finished the buttons on his shirt. She let him shrug it off while she reached for the waistband of his briefs obscenely tented in front, his broad head already peeking out of the top.

  She dropped to her knees in front of him, pulling the briefs down his legs as she did so. His big hard-on jutted toward her face. She accepted the invitation it presented without a second thought, leaning forward to kiss and then lick the weeping slit.

  His flavor burst on her tongue and she went back for another taste, keeping him inside her mouth this time, licking and sucking with more enthusiasm than experience.

  He didn't seem to mind, the demands and sexual praise falling from his lips a solid indication she was getting something right.

  She wrapped both hands around his dick, rhythmically squeezing and rubbing while she played over his big, round head with her mouth.

  He groaned and grabbed her under her armpits. "You've got to stop."

  Her mouth came off him with a pop. "Why?"

  "I've got a plan."

  "Maybe mine is better."

  He lifted her like she weighed nothing, bringing her body flush to his, her mouth close as she came up onto her tiptoes. "Trust me."

  She gave her agreement in her kiss. He accepted it as his due and she didn't even mind. His hands were everywhere on her body, molding her curves, exploring her skin.

  When he broke the kiss and turned her body around to face the window again, she made a sound of protest.

  He leaned down and bit gently against her neck. "I'll make it good for you."

  Of that she had no doubt. The man was a master at the art of pleasure.

  He maneuvered her so she was leaning forward, her hands curled around the front edges of the sink for support, her legs spread, her bottom tilted up, completely open to anything he wanted to do to her.

  What he wanted was to touch her, with his fingers, with his lips, with his teeth and tongue.

  When she felt the broad head of his penis pressing into her entrance, she was so hungry for the contact she canted her hips back, tilting as invitingly as any temptress in history.

  He speared her, his shaft stretching her and caressing her to new heights of ecstasy. The beauty of the night outside mixed with the silence of the kitchen broken only by their breathing and his promises of unending pleasure.

  His angle rubbed her g-spot even as his hand came around so he could caress her clitoris with knowing fingers.

  "You're going to scream as you come and I'll be the only one here to hear it." The dark promise skated over her skin leaving goosebumps in its wake.

  A few more surges of his hips and she was doing just that, screaming and climaxing, her body not hers in that moment, but completely given over to the delight of his possession.

  She was barely aware when he carried her up the stairs and laid her in his bed, dozing almost immediately, but waking enough to curl into his body when he returned some time later.

  He'd probably picked up the
ir clothes, discreetly discarded the condom and removed any evidence of their lovemaking from the kitchen so Lydia wouldn’t be shocked in the morning.

  Rock was that kind of man.

  Rock tuned out the voices coming from downstairs. They were filming inside today. It was only the third day doing so in the two weeks they had been making the movie on Jepsom Acres. Art Gamble had shown his savvy in scheduling as much of the filming outside as possible.

  Even so, discomfort climbed along Rock's spine at the knowledge his home was filled with strangers.

  Maybe now would be a good time to go for a ride on Orion.

  He was quiet walking down the hall into the kitchen.

  Mrs. Painter smiled in greeting. "You're a little early for your midmorning coffee."

  "I'm going riding."

  "In the middle of a work day?"

  "How am I supposed to get any work done with all the commotion?"

  "Don't be silly. They're staying on the main floor just like you instructed."

  "They're in my home."

  "It's Carey's home too."

  "I have never denied it."

  "It's good of you to give him this. I'm proud of you."

  Rock scowled, though he was secretly warmed by the older woman's praise. "I wasn't going to let him go to jail for fraud."

  Mrs. Painter's eyes widened. "That wouldn't have happened, surely."

  Rock shrugged. Probably not. Not with his lawyers, but things could have gotten ugly before he contained it. He was a venture capitalist, not a fixer.

  "Maybe you should ask Deborah to ride with you."

  "She's working."

  "Actually, she's not in this morning's scenes."

  Then why in the hell had she had an early morning casting call?

  "I supposed Mr. Gamble likes to have everyone on set regardless," Mrs. Painter answered as if he'd asked the question aloud. "I think he'll survive you stealing his leading lady for a little while."

  Rock thought so too.

  Spinning on his heel, he headed to the sound of Art's booming voice yelling, "Cut!" followed by a barrage of commentary.

  Apparently one of the actors hadn't done their homework and didn't have his lines down. It wasn't Carey, so Rock tuned out the older man's lecture as he looked around the living room for Deborah's beautiful form.

  Wincing in sympathy to the actor getting his ass handed to him, she stood against the far wall. She noticed Rock immediately, like she was tuned into his arrival.

  Her smile was warm and inviting.

  Too damn sexy for his peace of mind.

  He made a come here gesture with his hand. She cast a sidelong glance at the director and bit her lip, clearly undecided.

  Rock wasn't so reticent. He crossed the room in long strides, enjoying the way her beautiful face reflected both concern and welcome.

  He stopped in front of her. "Mrs. Painter said you aren't in this morning's scenes."

  He made no effort to lower his voice. Gamble was still yelling, so quiet-on-the-set wasn't a consideration.

  He ignored the way everyone's attention shifted from the incensed director to Rock and Deborah.

  "I'm not, but Art likes me to watch the other scenes filming, for a sense of continuity."

  "You've read the script." About a hundred times, if the number of times she went over it every night was any indication.

  "Yes."

  "Then you know what happens."

  "Was there something you needed, Rock?" Gamble asked from where he'd finally stopped berating the unprepared actor.

  Rock shifted his body so he stood between Deborah and her director, but faced the other man. "Does Deborah's contract require she be here for scenes she is not in?"

  "No, but I prefer all my actors watch the filming, and her particularly." Gamble cast Deborah a censorious glance. "Which she is aware of."

  "And I prefer not to have strangers in my home. There are times when everyone must make compromises." Rock let a hint of warning infuse his voice.

  It was clear the director's anger was spawned by the realization he was going to need more inside filming time than he'd planned for today, which could put future filming days in jeopardy according to their contract.

  Gamble's expression turned crafty. "I could probably see my way to releasing Deborah for some R&R time if we could have an extra couple of hours filming today."

  Carey, who was in the scene with the hapless actor, gasped. He knew his brother well enough to know that wasn't something he'd be likely to agree to.

  What he didn't know was how much Rock wanted to take Deborah into his world, even if it was just for a few hours.

  He turned to her. "Are you on the afternoon filming schedule?"

  "Actually, no."

  So, Art had planned to have his leading lady spend the entire day watching other scenes film instead of preparing for her own part or taking a much-deserved day off?

  Rock turned glacial eyes to Gamble. "Deborah and I will be busy until eight. I expect my home to be quiet and empty of your crew and equipment when I return."

  Gamble took a step back, his eyes widening in clear surprise at Rock's anger, but he nodded. "I can do that."

  Rock turned his attention to Carey. "Make sure it happens."

  "I've got your back, big brother."

  Rock tamped down the desire to make a derisive sound. In his own way, Rock knew his little brother did have his back.

  Rock put his hand out for Deborah. "You ready?"

  She took his hand in silence and allowed him to lead her out of the room.

  He stopped at the bottom of the stairs. "You'll want to put on jeans and boots. We're going riding."

  "What if I don't know how to ride?"

  "Amanda is a patient horse. You'll be fine."

  "What if I wanted to watch today's filming?" she asked, a bite to her tone.

  "Did you?"

  "No, but that is beside the point. You and Art negotiated my time like I’m a commodity."

  "On the contrary, I negotiated for your time. No one is forcing you to spend the free time I negotiated with me."

  "Are you sure about that?" Her director would be pretty angry if she messed up the valuable hours Rock had extended him.

  "I am. Are you?"

  "You're saying, if I choose to return to the filming or do my own thing, you aren't going to renege on the extra hours you gave Art?"

  "You are always free to do your own thing."

  Deborah's sigh ended on a pout he didn't think she was aware of. "That's at least marginally better. Though I'm not sure what I think of my director considering my company a commodity up for barter."

  "Are you saying that when you film in Hollywood, you're never expected to attend a certain party, or go to an investor's home for dinner?" He knew he was right. Rock had made his own command performances as the charming young son of Georgia Howell and Errol Jepsom.

  "I'm not sleeping with those investors or party hosts."

  "I'm glad to hear it."

  "You're impossible, you know that, right?"

  "I've been accused." By his siblings. By business rivals.

  It was a thing.

  She shook her head and spun on her heel, heading up the stairs. "I'll meet you in the stables."

  "Can you ride?" he asked, planning their afternoon in his head.

  "I had to learn for a commercial."

  Well, that was good to know anyway.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Deborah found Rock saddling one of the most beautiful mares she'd ever seen with a gorgeous white mane and dappled grey coat. It was also one of the biggest horses she'd ever seen. Full stop. "I know the state of Alaska is all about everything being oversized, but do you really need giant horses?"

  "Humans have increased in size over the centuries, few equines have been bred to accommodate that change in size safely. These two have been."

  She noticed the black stallion already saddled then. He was patiently waiting on Rock, no throw
ing his head or snorts of temper, but still intimidating by his sheer size and leashed power.

  "What's her name?" Deborah asked.

  "Amanda. She's gentle enough for Marilyn."

  "Your sister?"

  "Yes."

  "I would think she was an accomplished horsewoman, being your sister and all."

  "She's not fond of horses. Carey isn't either. Both only ride under duress."

  "Do you have another horse?"

  "No. They fight over which one has to go riding with me. We've never needed a horse for all three of us."

  She laughed at that, such a homey, family kind of argument. "Carey's probably thrilled I'm here to go riding with you then."

  "You have no idea. Last time we went riding, he was so nervous, even Amanda got skittish after a while."

  "Maybe if you had smaller horses."

  Rock shrugged. "They have to be able to carry me for their exercise when the twins aren't around."

  Which Deborah realized was most of the time. Rock, at six-foot-four inches of pure muscle, probably did need a giant horse.

  He finished saddling Amanda and led the mare out of the stable, the stallion following behind without a lead.

  "Doesn't Lydia ride?" Deborah asked as she swung up onto the mare's back with a leg up from Rock.

  "Her off hours are her own."

  Unlike Deborah's. She'd heard the reprimand in Rock's voice. "Making a movie isn't like a regular job. It takes over your life."

  Rock swung into the saddle and kneed his horse into movement. "I'd say that's pretty much true of any role."

  "Which is why so many actors take breaks between movies."

  "It still makes for a pretty narrowly defined life."

  "You can find balance, if you look for it hard enough."

  "Do you look for it?"

  "I'm here with you, aren't I?" As he'd confirmed it had been her choice to take the day off with him.

  He didn't answer but urged his horse into a faster walk. "Can you canter?"

  "Yes, but I prefer galloping." It was a smoother gait and she was no professional.

  "If you trust the horse, she knows the trails around here well enough."

  "I trust you not to put me in jeopardy."

  His smile made her stomach flip. Their pace increased until the horses loped at a relaxed gallop across the meadow and into the trees.