by Diana Downey
“Almost a day. They have to hike another fifteen miles to cross the river to cut back toward the mountains.”
Concern crinkles my brow. “So we can rest and warm up here?”
Even though he must be miserably cold, he waggles his brows. “We can spend the night.”
I don’t know if I agree with that, but from the way Shane is dragging his feet, he can’t move any further.
The sign on the cabin door that Shane unlocks has little hearts and says, ‘Reserved for O’Flannery and future wife.’
I grimace, my heart puddling into my soaked socks. Like she did to my wedding, Nikita is ruining my honeymoon that Shane has saved by providing significant consolation. Why do I even feel this way? He and I will be done with each other after tomorrow. I can’t live here.
Shane told me if he could start the snowmobile, we’d drive it to Tonakwa. This is my last night with him, and I have to share it with the memory of his ex-fiancée.
Beside me, Shane shakes, and I know that I have to warm him up. His mastery in bed has left me not thinking straight, but the sex has to wait. I have to care for him, like he’s done for me. He drops his backpack on the wood floor and collapses onto a bearskin rug.
Inside the public use cabin, my fingers run along the rough lip of an old-fashioned galvanized bathtub with a propane heater. Buckets of water stand near it. This was for her. Envy peels off the scabs of the fresh wounds, the terror, the pain, and the fear acquired during the day. Images of McKenna being torn apart flash in my mind, springing tears to my eyes. I don’t even know how to process them.
In contrast to the horrific day, a bottle of champagne sits in a cooler of half-melted ice. The room also contains a propane stove and mini-fridge—no bathroom though. Running water out here probably would burst pipes.
Sheers form a canopy over the bed, and dried rose petals litter the mattress that is made with fresh sheets and a handmade quilt. I have died and gone to heaven—a bed—a real bed. It beckons my body to lie on it, and I almost give in until my gaze falls on Shane, his eyes squeezed shut still battling the cold.
Looking at this oversized man, rugged, strong, and capable, I wonder why I’ve been so stupid. Shane’s not perfect, but his imperfections make him the ideal man.
“You did this for Nikita?” I ask, impressed but trying to hide it. It’s incredibly romantic, and all this is for her, not me. Regret of not chasing him my first year of college writhes inside me.
“My friends did it.”
His rich, husky voice burrows into my skin, rekindling the flame that flickers in my heart for him.
“You have good friends. Aren’t we like a week early though?”
Another shiver rumbles through his shoulders, so my arms instinctively wrap around his wide body while my chest presses against his back.
He kisses my arm, provoking a shock of sizzling awareness of the way he smells of earth and pine, of his strength flexing underneath his touch, and the roughness of his lips abraded by the harsh elements.
Shane teethes the hairs on my arms, tugging on a few. It’s erotic and elicits jolts of current into my center. “Yeah, but this isn’t far from town, so they probably check on it every few days.”
I steer Shane in front of the fireplace because his normally hot skin feels cool to the touch. He’s still shivering, and I don’t even know what to do other than warm him up. I light the pilot and flip the switch—my kind of fire. The flames pop up and dance across the fake logs.
As he unlaces his boots, I say, “Let me help you undress.”
A wicked grin slashes his weather-beaten lips. “I look forward to that.”
With Shane sitting on the bearskin rug in front of the fire, I tug off his boots, falling backward in the process.
“Are you okay?” he asks, reaching for me.
My whole body is one aching muscle, but I nod anyway.
While staring at Shane, sadness unravels me. This was for her, not me.
He gives me a weak grin. “I like being babied sometimes.”
I shoulder bump him. “This won’t happen often.” It’s nearly impossible to pry off his frozen pants, both pairs. I yank and tug, sticking my socked foot against the hearth for leverage.
He wiggles his butt to allow the pants to come down. “I can help.”
“And let me miss out on all this fun.”
His large, calloused hand palms my knee. “I’m not that bad off. You can quit worrying.” A grin stretches the scar on his chin. “When I was eight, my friends and I went ice fishing. We caught nothing, so we were determined to stay out there until we did. Our fuel ran out and we nearly froze to death.”
I kiss those slightly blue lips. They scrape against mine while scorching them. “Very stubborn.”
“Yes. My dad came and got us, put us near the fire until we warmed up. That’s the coldest I’ve ever been.”
I look at him—really look at him. I don’t know why I’ve never really seen him. I pull the quilt from the bed, a shower of rose petals littering the floor, and drape it across his shoulders.
In his underwear, he sits as close to the fire as humanly possible. “Seriously,” he says. “Thank you.” He has one of the most magnificent bodies known to man. Legs—this man has legs, wide shoulders, every portion of his body is ripped with lean, rock-hard muscles.
“Get warm,” I say. “That’s an order.”
He quirks his chapped lips, and for whatever reason I find that ruggedness suddenly endearing and sensual. “Yes, Ma’am.”
When he sees me dumping the buckets of water into the tub, he gets up. “These are heavy.”
While I haul a five-gallon bucket over the tub, my muscles straining and burning, I spill part of it. He easily lifts each one and dumps it into the tub. Once it’s full, I push him back to the fire to stay warm.
“I love it when you’re physical.” His tongue laps along my neck, arousing all my senses to the point my body might combust. I shouldn’t do this to myself because I’ll only have to give him up. He wants to live here, and how could I do that? He also told me he may face prison, and then what will we do?
“How long does it take the tub to warm up?” I ask, nostalgia of our time together, not the bad moments, whimpers in my voice.
“Not long. Set it to 100 degrees.”
“Okay.” When my stomach growls, I rummage through the fridge. I’ve ignored my hunger all day but so have Shane and McKenna. His body lays in the gorge, torn to shreds, not even a proper burial. I shake off the terror that it could’ve been me. I let out a sigh of relief because we’ll be in Tonakwa tomorrow, and we’ll contact the police.
A container full of stew sits on one of the shelves. It looks freshly made, so I pour it into a pan and heat it up.
While I prepare us dinner, I watch him carefully for any signs of his condition worsening. “Are you okay?”
“I’ve been better.” Wincing, he clenches his strong jaw, and I almost stop cooking to help him. “I didn’t want to kill Julian. Lindsey’s going to try and kill me…again.”
I blow out a breath. The girlfriends just crawl out of the knotty pine in Alaska. “Again?”
He touches the scar under his jaw. “She was mad because I screwed her after she cheated on me, then I told her we were done. I probably shouldn’t have let her spend the night after I said that.”
“That was stupid.” A drink would help me forget all of his girlfriends, so I pick up the bottle of champagne. “We don’t have to let this go to waste.”
A somber glaze casts over his pale green eyes. “This must bug you that all this is for Niki.”
My fingers skate over the condensation on the bottle, the cool damp moistening the tips. “It does, but I’m thinking I can overlook that after a few glasses of this.” I feign a smile. The romantic side of Shane he kept for her, a side I never knew until now.
“I’ll make you forget her.” Shane gets up and locks the cabin door. His sculpted body is graceful and magnificent. In two step
s, he has me pinned against the stove in his embrace.
His hungry lips devour mine. While his hand holds my neck, his lips leave a trail of feverish kisses, spawning waves of scintillating current between us.
“Would you like a glass of champagne?” I could use the whole bottle. Chilly bubbly probably isn’t the best drink for hypothermia, but it would be impolite not to ask.
“There’s a bottle of Kentucky bourbon on the top shelf. I’d love a glass of that.”
I pop the cork from the champagne bottle, pour myself a glass, pour him a tumbler of bourbon, then curl up beside him on the bearskin rug in front of the fire.
As I stew over how much setup went into preparing this love nest, the small bubble of comfort I’d felt while helping him off the mountain bursts. “You must’ve really loved her.”
“I wanted to marry her.” His tone turns dark and serious. “Can we not talk about her?”
“Do you still love her?” I shouldn’t ask, but I want…no…need to know. “You’re sleeping with me. I’d just like to know.”
“When referencing her, the word hate comes to mind.” Sadness rushes into his eyes. The brilliant green in them sparkles from the fire blazing in the stone hearth. “Cyn, from the moment I saw you, I was putty in your hands. All you had to do was act interested.”
“You don’t need to keep reminding me.” I hated him for turning me down. Before I turned seventeen, I talked a twenty-year-old ranch hand into sex, but then my dad fired him for having sex with a minor.
He cups my chin. “I work my ass off for what I have, and I was looking for a girl like you, nice and adorably cute. And God you have an ass on you and those long legs, but you had no interest in a man like me. You’ve let me know that a few times.”
It impales my heart, digging deep, that he’s bringing this up again and will probably never get past this. I hate that I once thought he wasn’t good enough. His hands run up my arms, burning them. The attraction is irresistible, like I’m the shooting star caught in his gravitational pull.
“Don’t get me wrong, Cyn. I know for the most part your heart is in the right place. I don’t know that I could handle that kind of disappointment again. Niki sure turned out to be a gold digger.”
Tears pool in my eyes. “I’m not that girl anymore.”
“Oh Cyn. Even if you have changed, I’m going to jail.” His arms curl around my waist. His skin is still cool to the touch, so I rub the corded muscles on his lean back. His defined abs tense as he reaches up for me to pull me into a kiss. Battered nerves and excitement duel for control.
“You should get into the tub,” I say, “and I should check on the food.”
A grin plays on his lips. “You just want me naked.”
It brings a tight smile to my lips while sadness envelopes me. I’ve pushed him away too many times.
I help him to the tub where the water steams off the surface.
As he lowers himself into the tub, he sighs heavily. “Join me, Cyn.”
“In a minute.” My heart feels like someone stomped on it. He liked me before Nikita, and that one look from me turned him off. What is wrong with me? Why didn’t I listen to Mom? She liked Shane.
Distracting myself, I pour the stew into two bowls and bring one to him. Cinnamon and coriander waft off the hearty vegetables and meat.
He forks a bite. “Get in here with me. Don’t make me get out of this tub.” A confident grin upturns his lips, making him even more desirable.
My body hungers for him more than the spicy scent of the stew, but wild horses have trampled my heart, and it’s hard to fight off the tears. I should’ve listened to my body begging to indulge in every naughty desire I had of him.
Shane inhales the stew. The food settles my stomach but doesn’t ease my heartache.
“Come here, Cyn.”
A feigned smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. “I am here.”
“You know what I mean.” His thumb circling on my palm rubs a hole in my hand and my heart. “Let me make the decisions I have to make as a man.”
He’s referring to his mountain of debt. “Don’t go all hero on me.” It just makes it harder to lose him.
“Don’t make me go all caveman on you.” He stands and Secretariat charges ahead. Damn his long, thick cock is hard to ignore. He steps from the tub, dripping wet, his granite body shimmering.
The sight of him stirs wanton desire and flushes my skin.
Instead of ravaging and claiming me, he gently unbuttons my shirt and unzips my jeans. He pulls them down, exposing the dark purple bruises marring my body.
“What is it with women and tight jeans?” He lets out a slow whistle. “I will never tire of seeing you in skimpy underwear.”
I wish the promise of forever in his words held some truth.
He kneels before me and kisses the ugliest bruise on my thigh where I slammed into a boulder in the river. It’s the size and color of an eggplant.
“Aren’t you sore?” he asks. His finger pushes the panties over, so his tongue and nose can nuzzle my clit, sliding up to the nub where he sucks hard. The sensation roars through me like the river that tossed me around like a ragdoll.
Closing my eyes, I let out a soft moan. My hands fist his thick hair, and I tug on it while he licks my pussy and pushes a finger into the tunnel. I tighten around him, my body melting against the pleasure his tongue delivers.
I want him so bad. His tongue and finger probing me drive me insane. My breath quickens as I push against his nose and lips. Warmth gushes through me, and his insistent licking sends sparks flying. My walls rupture with violent shudders, my orgasm ripping into me.
I pant like I did while climbing the mountain, the oxygen sucked from my lungs. With each titillating brush of his tongue, I clutch his hair and dig my fingers into his taut shoulders until the stimulation slows to a slight humming sensation coursing through my body.
In an orgasm fog, my body puddles, and he catches me. After he stands, he unhooks my bra and pulls off my soaked panties. Shane effortlessly picks me up to place me into the tub, and then he climbs in behind me.
This bear of a man kisses my neck, re-igniting my desire. “I care enough about you to do what’s best for you.”
“Maybe what’s best for me is screwing me into submission.” I don’t want to lose him, but could I live here? I absolutely hate it here. It’s cold. It’s wild. It’s crazy dangerous.
He grins, nuzzling my neck and tickling it with his beard. “Don’t think that I don’t have deep feelings for you, Cyn.” He tucks hair behind my ear to nibble on it, the heat singeing my nether regions. His fingers coil around my breast, and the nipples stiffen.
“I love the way you taste,” his husky voice breathes into my ear. His hand rotates my chin to his lips, temporarily softened by the steamy water. He flicks his tongue into my expectant mouth, slipping it along my tongue, nibbling my lips and sucking on them. A fever works its way into my breasts and the slit between my legs. My hunger for him ratchets up, clenching my sex and soaking it.
Why does everything have to be so damn complicated? Why can’t Shane want to live somewhere normal, somewhere warm?
His fingers stoke the fire between my legs. Each stroke tantalizes, compelling me to arc toward his touch. A basic need fills me, and all I can think about is him, his gorgeous body, his hard cock.
With my back butted up against his stone-hard abs, my sex sits on top of his stiff cock that pulses underneath me. “Am I hurting you?” I ask.
Shane tongues my neck, nipping and nibbling with ardent kisses. “It’s a good kind of pain.” His large hand holds the nape of my neck where his attentive mouth fondles my skin, lighting it afire.
His fingers continue to ramp me up, slipping along the slit moistened by his touch. His free hand caresses my breast while tugging on the nipple, the electric pinching traveling downward and shooting right between my thighs.
I let out a soft moan that Shane immediately fills with his tongue. The thrust
of it into my mouth signals my body to respond. I lift just enough to slide onto his rod, arcing my back. We both groan while my sex tightens around his large cock. The sensation is mind-blowing.
His cock hits all the right spots, especially the cul-de-sac at the front wall a few inches up, my G-spot has never been massaged before until Shane. Each hit sends shockwaves into my pussy.
While he plays with my clit, I ride him, increasing the tempo with each bump. His fingers tighten on my erect nipple, and I cry out. He continues to rub my clit as I grind against his cock completely filling me, my vulva swelling with neediness.
My sex aches and spasms until waves of orgasms shudder through me. Because of him, it’s become easy to climax.
The heat of Shane’s cum pumps into me as we both release. My arms drape over the side of the tub while I heave in breaths and wipe the sweat away from my forehead.
Shane loops his arms around my waist and rests his chin on my shoulder. “There’s no one else I’d rather be here with than you, Cyn.” He presses his forehead to mine, and our noses touch.
But where will we be tomorrow when we head into town and have to deal with what’s happened?
I lean back into his arms, sadness overwhelming me. I’m not ready to give him up, but yet he needs to handle his back taxes. Would that really tear us apart? And will I choose comfort over this hellhole?
Shane rotates me around. “What’s wrong, Cyn?”
A few tears swim in my eyes. “I don’t think I can let you go, but I can’t live here either.”
“I want to live on the Kenai, not here, and it’s nothing like the interior.”
“It isn’t?”
“It’s cold in the winter, but you’ll see.”
“Will you take me there?”
“If I don’t go to prison, sure.” Shane presses his forehead to mine then seals my mouth with his while his tongue forces its way in. Coming up for air, he holds my face and says, “I don’t want to lose you, but I won’t drag you through my troubles with the IRS.” He presses his nose into my hair and inhales. “You’ve taken me away from my problems and given me so much this past week.”
