Love Grows in Alaska (The Washington Triplets)

by Michelle Lynn

  “I'm no one else's girl, I told you that before.” My heart beating faster with every declaration. I put myself on the line, for him to reassure me, confirm that I’m not alone in what I’m feeling.

  A smirk forms on his lips, pushing those dimples into his cheeks and my body relaxes into his arms. “I like the sound of that.” For the moment, every doubt vanishes with his confirmation. My body calms in peace for the first time, in a long time.

  “Me too.” God, I need to learn when to stop talking.

  “Listen, Marisa.” My heart starts pounding in my chest as I wait for his words. “I want to be real with you. I can sit here and tell you how beautiful and smart I think you are, but you have to believe it yourself. Frankly, I want to beat the shit out of the asshole that made you feel this way about yourself, but you're more important to me than that.” Rolling onto his back, he grips my hips, pulling me on top of him. “Why don't you show me your true side? The one you're so worried to reveal to me, and we'll go from there.”

  He shifts his hips and his erection pushes against my core. Warmth spreads through my veins, and I drop my head back between my shoulders, loving the sensations he's creating. His eyes widen as he watches me flick the clasp on the front of my bra, the flimsy material falling from my chest. In one smooth move, he skims his fingers up my stomach and cups my aching breasts in his hands. “Be who you want, Marisa, not who people expect you to be.” His encouraging words build me up as I circle my hips, grinding myself against him. “Show me the woman you are ... bare your soul to me.”

  I want to, I want to bare myself to him. I want to show him who I truly am. Show him that I trust him with my insecurity. And that I do believe he won’t hurt me. Lifting my head, I lean forward, resting my hands against his chest. His warm hands snake down my back, settling on my hips. “You're gorgeous,” he says, his hands rocking my hips, encouraging me to take what I want. My fingers play under the waistband of his briefs, rubbing back and forth under the elastic, and his breath hitches. That might be my favorite sound, and it certainly encourages me to show Zach the side I have been desperately trying to hide. The spontaneous and fun loving one I’ve buried most of my life. Releasing my fingers, I back up and he growls.

  “Where are you going?” he asks, pushing up on his elbows, his longing eyes on me as I slide off of him. Hooking my fingers back into the band, I pull, freeing him of his boxers, and good lord ... my eyes widen in astonishment. I wish I could take a picture and send it to Nate, just to show him how inadequate he was compared to the adonis lying in front of me. He watches carefully as I shimmy out of my underwear and toss them aside. My heart is racing a mile a minute as I climb up his body, and I duck my head, afraid of what I'll find written across his face. When our hips align I look up, and there they are, bright blue eyes, feasting on my body.

  “Get a condom out of the night stand.” Reaching across the bed, I slip my hand in the drawer and feel my away around until my fingers hit foil. I hold it up, giving him a seductive smile, but he doesn't smile back. It’s a heated and hungry glare instead. “Put it on me. I want you right fucking now.” He remains planted on his elbows, watching me as I rip open the packet and roll it over his throbbing length. Rising up, I hover over the top of him. Gripping his length; he teases my entrance with his tip until I slowly start to lower myself over him.

  His hands are roaming my body like he needs to touch every inch of me, and I revel in the way that makes me feel. Once I'm wrapped snugly around him, I start to move and a loud moan flies from his mouth. With each circle and every thrust, he gifts me another sound that does nothing but drive me crazy. We feed off of each other’s sounds of ecstasy and pleasure. My body starts to tremble, a deep warmth settling low in my belly. My movements are becoming more frantic, my breaths shallow. Squeezing my eyes shut, I suck my bottom lip into my mouth and bite down.

  “Ride me, Marisa,” he grunts. My eyes fly open and meet his, lust-filled and burning. Our hands frantically move across each other; his palms gripping my breasts as he twists and tugs on my sensitive nipples. I can't get enough. I need more of him. Leaning forward, I offer him my breast and a sexy growl rumbles from his chest as he bites down and sucks. Hard. My body clenches tightly around him and I rock harder, chasing my release.

  Zach runs his hand down my stomach, stopping when he reaches my throbbing clit. “Oh, Zack,” I moan as his fingers attack the aching bud with slow rhythmic circles. All of this wanting to pleasure me is foreign compared to my time with Nate, I want nothing more than to live my life wild and free, as long as Zach’s the one taming me.

  “That's it, baby.” His words spur me on and I rise up before slamming myself down. His fingers stay latched onto my clit and with each movement, sparks of pleasure shatter throughout my body.

  His name rushes past my lips in a harsh whisper that I can’t control and he bucks wildly against me, meeting me thrust for thrust. The pressure builds and builds, and when he pinches my clit, I explode like a bomb, millions of pieces scattering wildly as my body trembles, convulsing against his.

  “Touch yourself, Marisa.” Somehow my heavy lids snap open and I see nothing in his gaze but pure need. I know he's close, I can feel him twitching inside of me and I need to do this; I need to erase that line I drew in the sand so many years ago. Running my tongue along my bottom lip, I grip my breasts, rolling my nipples between my thumbs and forefingers. Zach's eyebrows shoot up and his eyes widen. He isn't looking me in the eye, instead he's watching me as I stroke and massage the heavy flesh and suddenly I'm anxious to give him more. With one hand still on my breast, I push the other one down my stomach and suck in a breath when my fingers hit my clit. I'm still sensitive from my recent orgasm, but it feels fantastic and based on Zach’s concentrated, burning eyes on me, I don’t stop.

  “Fuck me, that's hot.” I throw my head back, enjoying that I can make him a trembling mess as well. His hips buck harder and harder against mine before he digs his fingers into my thighs, pinning me down against him. A deep grunt rips from his throat and he pulls me down against him so that we’re chest-to-chest. I bury my face in his neck and he kisses the side of my head. As exhausted as I am from showing a side of myself I’ve kept closed off my whole life, I’m proud that I put myself out there and trusted Zach to see who I can really be. The fact that he not only appreciated it, but loved it, makes my whole body light as a feather from any worry. “Stay the night,” he whispers into my hair and I nod, because there really isn't any other choice. This is right where I want to be.

  ZACH SMACKS MY ASS AND I jump a little in his arms. “Time for you to shower and me to cook.” He wiggles out from under me.

  Gripping his arms tighter, I glue myself to his muscled physique. “I don’t want to separate just yet.” I’m growing used to this ‘own your feelings’ thing. Zach’s spoiled me and that worry to show him exactly what I crave is lessening.

  He chuckles. “For what I have planned for you, you’ll need energy.” His voice laced with seduction, enticing me to want what’s to come.

  “I’m sure I can churn up a reserve to get me by until morning,” I joke and he shakes his head, pulling me tight to him one more time before ultimately leaving me alone in the bed. But I don’t feel alone anymore, even with not being in his arms, I’m confident he’ll be waiting for me downstairs.

  I sit up and watch him find his jeans, shrugging them on without the barrier of his boxers. Mental thought that it leaves easy access for me later. Then I shake my head because never in my life have I been so sexually crazed. His body makes me feel as though I’m famished until he can satisfy me again, and again.

  He strolls into the bathroom and the knock of cabinets opening and shutting before the pressure of water pouring out is heard. “It’s warming up for you.” He walks over, stretching over the bed to steal one more kiss from me. “Hopefully that will tide me over until you get downstairs.”

  I melt with his words, thinking the hell with being clean; I’d follow him dow
n to the depths of wherever as long as his lips are on mine. “Join me?” I plea, fluttering my eyes up and down.

  Roaring in laughter, he bites that lower lip I desperately want to lick. “Let’s go. We need to talk about a few things.” One last kiss on my forehead and he heads out from his bedroom in only a pair of jeans, displaying his mouth watering bare chest. “Go,” he playfully instructs me and I scurry out from the warm confines of the bed.

  My feet are instantly cold on the tile when I walk into his bathroom; I’m in awe again that I’m in the woods of Alaska instead of a five star resort. Dark mahogany cabinetry, with double ivory sinks on one side and a walk-in shower and Jacuzzi tub on the other, welcomes me instantly. Climbing into the shower, the warm water sizzles against my colder skin. I swear I need my blood to thicken being up here in the harsh elements. It’s too thin from the hot and humid Chicago summer. I wash my body with Zach’s manly ocean-scented soap and my hair with his shampoo. The scents mingle in the air and thoughts of us just last night and this morning fluster to mind, making my body itch like a cat that needs to get scratched by him again. I push that fear that something I haven’t discovered yet in this man I’ve known for only days will ruin what’s developing between us. I’m optimistic in my belief that he really isn’t too good to be true.

  I get out and wrap in a fluffy towel that Zach left on the counter. Once I dry my body, I wrap my long chestnut hair in it to try to absorb the moisture. Walking back into his bedroom, I smile at the sheets restless in strews from us. Then I cringe with the thought of what I’m going to wear. The thought of putting on dirty clothes that I sweated in most of the day hiking makes me feel dirty all over again. Hearing the pots and pans bustling around downstairs, I open his drawers and dig out a long sleeve tee and pair of his boxers. Instantly, his smell encases my nostrils and safety fills my veins. I want this feeling of sanctuary in a life with Zach to never leave. To have faith in love at first sight. The ability to find someone and know instantly they are your other half, but how many people can honestly say that’s happen to them? That twinge of doubt won’t stop resurfacing as many times as I squash it.

  A few minutes later, I walk downstairs to an empty house. Pots are placed on the stove, with the flame ignited under them, but there’s no Zach anywhere. Finding our wine from earlier, I take a sip, wondering where he would be. Then he walks over to the side of the deck and stares out to the lake.

  Sneaking through the sliding glass door, I tip toe up to him and wrap by arms around his waist. “Yeah, Bill, anytime,” he says and I freeze my movements. I slowly move my arms to back up, but he holds my hands in place on his stomach.

  “Thanks a lot, Zach, I really appreciate it. See you tomorrow.” The deep voice down below hollers up and my heart beats so fast I fear I’m going to faint.

  “See you then,” Zach calls out and then turns around, encasing me in his arms.

  “I’m so sorry,” I apologize.

  “What did I say about that word?” He teases me and kisses the top of my head.

  “I know, but what if he would have seen me?” I panic, stepping away from the ledge.

  “So? You look dressed to me.” He cocks his head to the side and purses his lips in confusion.

  Pulling his shorts down to cover a little more and wishing I had a body wrap to cover my exposed skin. “I’m hardly presentable,” I counter and he steps forward.

  “Marisa, you’re gorgeous and I would have no problem if Bill would have seen you. I’d have introduced you, but he’s a talker and I’m being selfish in wanting to be your sole attention today.” He smiles and I grin back. He’s been my sole attention from the minute he stepped in that elevator.

  “So, you aren’t mad?” Damn, Nate, I wish I could kick his ass for what he’s done to me.

  “No.” he shakes his head. Closing the gap between us, he pulls me into his chest. “I like you wearing my clothes and it would only prove to Bill that you belong to me. Although, I’m fairly certain, you wouldn’t hop over the railing into his arms. I like to think I’m kind of a catch,” he jokes and I giggle, easing up a little.

  Looking up into his eyes, I place my hands on his cheeks. “More than just a catch,” I say and he bats his eyelashes like a flirty girl.

  “Good, I’m glad you think so.” His voice serious again and he twists my wet hair between his fingers, tilting my head up. My heartbeat stills until his lips claim mine again and I join him in a slow rhythmic dance of tongues that we’ve mastered over the last twenty-four hours. Breaking away from him, I groan because I want more, need more. “Dinner is coming up,” he tells me and links our fingers together, escorting me into the house again.

  Circling around the island, Zach goes back to the pots, steam pouring out when he opens the lid. “What are we having?” I ask, crossing my legs, twisting around to face him on the bar stool.

  “Fish?” he asks, with clenched teeth. “Salmon. I know you’ve probably had your fill, but I just caught some last weekend—”

  “Salmon sounds great,” I interrupt his rambling and his lips turn up at the corners before he goes back to his pots. “So, you had said you wanted to talk?” I ask prematurely, because it’s been nagging me since he brought it back up. Trying to wheel back any fears that my insecurity would trigger, I need to know if he’s holding some secret from me.

  “Well, hold on about five minutes, everything will be ready and we’ll talk,” he tells me, grabbing a platter and disappearing back out the doors.

  The minute he leaves, I throw my head in my hands. Deep breaths in and out, reminding me of my mantra that I am worthy of something better, that I am a catch of my own. Murmuring to myself, I don’t hear him come in until the platter of delicious grilled salmon lands on the countertop and his hand touches my back.

  “What? Are you feeling okay?” His voice panicked, I reign in that worry. Picking up my head, I smile.

  “I’m okay,” I lie and I can see he knows from his boring eyes.

  “Marisa,” he sighs and I release a breath.

  “Um … I’m worried about what you want to talk about.” Confessing is so hard, but a slow, easy going smile crosses his lips.

  “Nothing about us, just me.” He pulls away and grabs the platter before pulling out two plates from the cabinets. My heart slows back down to a normal pace and confidence that one day I won’t doubt a man’s intentions with me begins to grow.

  He sits us at the table with two plates of salmon, boiled and broccoli. Staring down at it, my stomach grumbles from the delicious smell and appearance. “Tell that stomach not to get too excited. I’m positive the salmon is good, but can’t say much about the other stuff.” He leans back with his glass of wine waiting for me to take a bite.

  Forking a small piece of salmon, I bring it up to my lips and slide it off into my mouth. It’s moist and flavorful with a citrusy pepper mix that explodes off my tongue. Wiping my mouth with my napkin, “It’s so good, Zach.” I compliment him and his shoulders fall in relief before he scoots closer to the table, picking up his own fork.

  We eat in silence for a few minutes. Zach’s right, the salmon is off the charts, but the potatoes are a bit hard and the broccoli a little soft, but the salmon more than makes up for what the side dishes lack. Thoughts of Zach grilling and me preparing the side dishes in the kitchen float to the surface before I can chastise myself for moving too far ahead. “So, what did you want to talk about?” I hesitantly ask, not sure I even want to know.

  He pushes back in his seat again, taking his wine glass and chugging the remainder of it down his throat. His eyes search mine and I try to stay steady and not show the terrifying thoughts eating me alive inside. “Do you ever wonder what I do?” he asks and I cock my head because I have, but thought he would explain eventually. If this is what he has to talk about, I can breathe easy because I don’t care what he does for a living.

  “I’ve wondered why you are always at the hotel, but also a tour guide and then I saw you in Anchorage
all dressed up in a suit.” I take my own glass and sit back a little, except I’m not nearly done with the salmon.

  “I used to live in Connecticut. I moved up here five years ago.”

  “Okay,” I shrug because he’s going backward instead of forward.

  “I owned my own company, flipping houses. You know, buy cheap, fix them up and then sell for a profit.” He stares out the window for a second, shame pouring off of him. “It bankrupted. I failed.” His words leave his lips with venom and disappointment all mixed together.

  “The housing market went through a bad stage around that time. I’m sure—”

  “No Marisa, it was me, I take the blame for its failure. Sure the economy might have had something to do with it, but I took risks I shouldn’t have.” He shakes his head and closes his eyes. I want to leave my spot and curl up in his lap to assure him it’s okay, because his defeated slumping body is too much to digest.

  “So then you moved up here?” I ask to detour the conversation to a positive place, but when his eyes find mine again, they’re still torn.

  “Yeah. My family has been coming up to King’s Gate for years and it was the first place I wanted to come to escape from it all.”

  “It’s a beautiful area, Zach, I can see why,” I add and he shakes his head.

  “It was until three months ago. I was a tour guide, owning my own plane to take the true survivalists back and forth to remote areas. Then things changed and people started demanding more from me. More than I want to give.” His whole face is sunken and it tears me up seeing him so solemn. I wish I could grab his shoulders and shake him to reveal the smiling and carefree Zach back in my presence.

  “What changed?” I think he actually was waiting for me to ask the question.

  “Ned Reckle passed away three months ago.” His chest rises and falls before he grabs the wine bottle, refilling both of our glasses.