Wild Heat (Northern Fire)

by Lucy Monroe

  Tack frowned, the first flicker of criticism showing in his expression. “Your gran came down to California when you were in the hospital.”

  “And left as soon as I was out of danger.”

  “She wanted you to come back with her.” His tone said he thought Caitlin should have done just that.

  But she’d still been taking intravenous nourishment in the hospital as she worked back up to being able to eat normally for almost a full week after Gran had flown back to her beloved Cailkirn. “It wasn’t an option.”

  “There’s always an option.”

  “You think I should have ripped out my IV and checked out against medical advice when I could barely stand without help, much less walk? I’d only managed to hold down broth and baby cereal at that point.”

  A frown of confusion creased Tack’s features. “She stayed until you were better.”

  “I was no longer in danger of sliding into a coma or any of my organs shutting down. I was eating by mouth.” If in a very limited fashion.

  “She left you alone to face that bastard you’d married when you were still so weak?” Tack demanded, clearly furious.

  Caitlin did her best to forget how abandoned she’d felt. She’d known when she made a life in the Lower 48 that her grandmother wouldn’t be coming for yearly visits. The fact that Gran had come to the hospital was huge.

  “It wouldn’t have made any difference if she’d waited another week.”

  No way had Caitlin been willing to put Gran between her and Nevin. If she was honest with herself, and she tried really hard to be nowadays, Caitlin hadn’t been willing to return to Cailkirn before she’d gained enough weight to no longer look like a walking skeleton.

  She hadn’t been able to stand the thought of the town, and this man in particular, seeing the evidence of her idiocy. She’d been ashamed enough that her grandmother had witnessed how far Caitlin had fallen.

  “It would have for that week,” he insisted.

  She couldn’t argue that particular truth, so Caitlin focused on what she could. “I was a grown woman. It wasn’t Gran’s responsibility to hold my hand.”

  “Bullshit. Family takes care of family.”

  “She hated being out of Alaska, Tack. You know she doesn’t even like getting as far away from Cailkirn as Anchorage.”

  “She could have asked someone else to come.”

  Caitlin just shook her head.

  “You needed her.”

  “I needed to do exactly what I did.” Caitlin had taken back control of her life, bit by bit. “I got better.”

  It hadn’t been easy and leaving Nevin hadn’t even been the hardest part of it, but Caitlin had made it.

  “You ready for a shower, wildcat?” he asked, startling her.

  She would have thought he’d want to keep hashing out Caitlin’s past until he was satisfied. However, showing yet again that he knew when to stop pushing, Tack was offering her something much nicer than a discussion that ultimately couldn’t change anything.

  “Sure.” She’d rather stay in bed with him, but she realized that wouldn’t be the wisest move at this point.

  They couldn’t afford to miss the MacKinnon family dinner. Neither of them would ever hear the end of it. She wasn’t keen on sharing this newfound whatever this was with their families yet either.

  Besides, she’d been so overwhelmed by Tack’s lovemaking, Caitlin had done very little touching of her own. A shower seemed like the ideal place to rectify that oversight.

  * * *

  Tack tugged Kitty across the bed and lifted her onto his lap; despite the disparity in their sizes, she fit perfectly against him. “We need to leave for the Homestead in ninety minutes, unless you want me to drop you by the Knit and Pearl beforehand.”

  “You don’t mind taking me home after?”

  “Of course not.” The stuff she worried about kept surprising him.

  “Okay. I’ll just ride over with you, then.”

  “Good.” No one would question it this time, but they’d have to be careful that their families didn’t get the wrong idea.

  “You ready for that shower now?” she asked with a heated look.

  His postorgasmic relaxation disappeared just like that and his dick sat right up at the thought of naked Kitty Grant under hot streaming water.

  He couldn’t count the number of times he’d jacked off to that particular daydream.

  “Yeah.” But he burrowed his nose into the joint between her neck and shoulder, inhaling the fragrance of her recent climax and regretting they had to wash away the scent of their combined pleasure.

  He could easily spend the rest of the day and night in a sexual marathon with this woman.

  Tack had set out to rock Kitty’s world and ended up shaking his own foundations like a California earthquake.

  That knowledge, more than anything, had him standing with her in his arms and heading to the master bath.

  “You’re carrying me again,” she observed, sounding bemused.

  He shrugged, making the side of her body slide up and down his torso. Nice.

  “I can walk, you know.”

  “I’ve seen you,” he said without cracking a smile.

  “Is this a thing with you?” she asked as he put her down inside the bathroom.

  “What?”

  “Carrying women around.”

  “No.” In fact, he’d never carried another lover.

  “So, I’m special?”

  She always had been, but he wasn’t about to say that out loud. The time for those kinds of declarations was almost a decade in the past.

  Instead of answering, he focused on starting the shower, turning on all the jets, and adjusting the temperature.

  “It can’t be good for your back.”

  That had him shaking his head and turning to face her. “Really? You barely weigh more than my winter camping pack and I carry that for miles across frozen tundra.”

  She stood up straighter, as if her five-foot-five inches were going to appear taller. “I’m not a shrimp.”

  “Never said you were.”

  She glared up at him.

  He let out an impatient breath. “I like carrying you, okay?”

  “Sometimes.”

  A smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. “Noted.”

  The genuine and clearly happy smile she gave him took his breath away and sent renewed desire surging through him.

  She flicked her blue gaze down to his cock and then back to his face. “Keep that thought.”

  Then she turned around and grabbed a towel to wrap her hair in. He would have told her he had shower caps, but watching her bend over to get her hair into the towel wrap was better than porn.

  She straightened, deftly twisting the towel and tucking it in the back. “That should do it.”

  “Very resourceful of you.”

  She cocked her head to one side, her sky eyes going narrow. “You’ve got shower caps, don’t you?”

  “What do you think?” he asked, indicating his thick, shoulder-length hair.

  There were occasions in the winter when he didn’t have the time or inclination to dry it before leaving the house, but walking outside with a wet head would be bottom-of-the-barrel tourist stupid.

  “I think it’s time to get wet.”

  Damn. Did she do sexy well.

  He pulled her into the oversized shower, turning their bodies so the highest stream was directed at his head. They pressed together, her breasts pillowed against his torso, his rapidly hardening dick brushing her stomach.

  Tipping her head back, Kitty smiled up at him sweetly, undulating against him with an unconscious sensuality.

  “Is the temperature okay?” he forced himself to ask.

  “It’s delicious.” Her voice was pure sex.

  Making him wonder if her sensuality had been so unconscious after all. When she started running her hands over his back and down his buttocks while pressing forward against his semi-erection, he
was damn sure of it.

  She reached for something behind him and then he felt the natural bath sponge against his skin, lather and water making it glide easily. Though the rough surface brought him more pleasure than washing himself ever did.

  He went to grab the bar of homemade soap, but she pushed his hand away. “Let me do it.”

  “Okay.”

  “Turn around.”

  He obeyed without asking why. If she wanted to wash him, he’d let her. He had every intention of returning the favor, in great detail.

  He spent long minutes in bliss as she gave careful attention to washing every inch of the back of his body. After she bathed him with the soapy sponge, she rinsed him with her hands. Those caresses felt distinctly sexual, though it had been more fun having her wash him with her body pressed against his.

  He felt her move back a step. “Turn back,” she instructed.

  Only too glad to face her again, he did so with alacrity.

  “Tip your head back, get your hair wet.”

  “You want to wash my hair?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t think that’s going to work.”

  “Oh ye of little faith.” She climbed up on the cedar bench that ran along one side of the tiled shower stall.

  He’d included it for his future wife to sit on and shave her legs and do the other stuff women did in the shower. Then Tack had discovered he enjoyed sitting on the bench and letting the water pour down on him sometimes.

  He’d never pictured Kitty Grant standing on it so she could wash his hair, though.

  He put one hand out to steady her. “Careful there, wildcat.”

  “I am not now, nor have I ever been the klutz I told the ER staff I was.” The lack of bitterness in her tone felt like a personal victory for Tack.

  “Impetuous and headstrong yes. Klutz, no,” he affirmed.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Tack hadn’t had his hair washed since he was a little boy, and he’d had no inkling it could be the pleasurable and sensual experience that Kitty was making it.

  The thought that she might have done this for her ex sent irrational jealousy rolling through Tack. However, he was determined not to give voice to it.

  “You’re good at this, Kitty.”

  “Aunt Elspeth taught me how to give a scalp massage while washing someone’s hair.” Which did not answer the question of whether Kitty had offered this delight to another man.

  “This doesn’t feel like a Miss Elspeth–style massage.”

  Kitty laughed, the sound so beautiful he savored it as more precious than summer sunshine and twice as warming. “The sounds you’re making aren’t anything like the ones she does either,” Kitty offered in a voice laced with amusement-tinged desire.

  “Maybe it’s different with a man.”

  “Maybe it’s different with you.”

  “Could be.”

  “I used to love when she washed my hair for me.” Kitty went quiet for a minute, her fingers kneading his scalp and sending chills of bliss through him. “I never wanted to do it for anyone else, though.”

  “I’m glad you decided to experiment on me.”

  “Me too.” Her hands slid down to massage the tension from his shoulders.

  “I’m going to be a puddle of goo you’ll never get out of the shower at this rate.”

  “We’ll see.” There was both promise and challenge in her voice. “Okay, time to rinse.”

  She stayed on the bench while he let the water wash the shampoo lather away.

  “You like being tall?” he asked when he was done.

  “I figure I’m just the right height for a kiss,” she said with a playful wink.

  “Shit, sweetheart, it isn’t kissing I’m thinking about when your naked body is on display like this, but I’ll take it.”

  “Glad to hear it.”

  She didn’t wait for him to initiate the kiss, pressing forward to mold her mouth to his. Her small tongue came out to flirt against his lips.

  With an animalistic growl he would have been embarrassed by with another woman, he yanked Kitty’s body against his and deepened the kiss until their tongues were tangling.

  He didn’t like it when she pulled her head back, but she avoided his questing mouth. “Time for me to wash your front.”

  That was not an offer he was going to refuse, not considering how desperate a certain appendage in his front was for some attention.

  The little tease started with his shoulders and worked her way down his chest, giving more attention than any other lover had to the brown discs of his male nipples. She rubbed them with the sponge and then rinsed them with her fingers, squeezing the tiny nubs gently and making him gasp with unexpected pleasure.

  Just when he was ready to push her up against the wall and bury his cock inside her tight channel, she stopped and stepped down off the bench.

  When she dropped to her knees, precum just about gushed out of his cock as it bobbed with an infusion of lust-driven blood.

  She didn’t touch him there, though. Instead, Kitty started at his feet, giving them and his legs the same attention as everything else.

  When she finished with his thighs, she peeked up at him through her lashes. “I feel like I forgot something. Is there a part of you that doesn’t feel clean?”

  He pressed his dick forward so the head brushed along her lips. “I’ve got something that needs attention.”

  Her little pink tongue flicked out and tasted the pearls of pre-ejaculate oozing from his slit. “Mmm…I like that.”

  “Me too.” So much he didn’t think it would take long before he came all over her face.

  Pretty certain she wasn’t looking for that reaction, he ruthlessly clamped down on his growing need to come.

  Both her hands curled around his cock, the fingertips not quite touching, but his dick didn’t care. It felt incredible, and when she jacked him slowly, he couldn’t hold back a deep-throated groan.

  “You like that too.”

  “Oh yeah.”

  She smiled and then put her mouth right over his weeping cock head, her tongue caressing him even as her hands continued their slow pistoning of his length. When she started to suck, his knees nearly buckled.

  She pulled off, her expression pure seduction. “Maybe it’s your turn to use the bench now, hmm?”

  His pride no match for his sexual need, he sat down with alacrity and spread his legs to give her room between them.

  She moved forward, her hands sliding along his thighs as she knelt between them. “You’re so gorgeous, Taqukaq.”

  “What I am is horny, wildcat.”

  She didn’t laugh. She didn’t even smile, the intensity in her blue gaze like an all-over body caress. “It’s my turn to rock your world, Tack. I hope you’re ready.”

  This was the Kitty Grant he remembered, ready to challenge him head-on, no matter the circumstance.

  “More than,” he promised her.

  Her bathing him had been some of the most prolonged foreplay he’d ever experienced directed at his pleasure and it had left him primed and ready to shoot.

  She didn’t make him wait but dropped her head to lave him from head to root and back again, her tongue bathing him with even more care than her hands had taken with the rest of his body. When she took his head back into her mouth, she started sucking right away, her tongue busy while her hands stimulated his length.

  It took about thirty seconds of this stimulation before he was warning her of his imminent climax. “I’m going to shoot, wildcat!”

  She popped her mouth off but kept her face right there, rubbing her cheek over his sensitive head.

  “I mean it, wildcat.”

  She looked up, her expression fierce. “Come, then. Right now if you can,” she challenged.

  He did and she let his pearly white jizz land on her cheeks and over her throat.

  It was one of his deepest held fantasies, and seeing his cum on Kitty Grant’s face because she wanted i
t there made him shoot again, less semen coming out but the pleasure no less intense.

  His head fell back against the tiled wall, his body like a rag doll on the bench.

  This woman was going to kill him.

  * * *

  Wearing her bra, T-shirt, and panties, Caitlin blow-dried her hair while Tack dressed in the other room. Her towel wrap hadn’t been equal to their fun in the shower and she couldn’t make herself care.

  His climax had been one of the most amazing experiences of her life. The one he’d given her afterward with his hands while he alternated suckling each of her nipples had rivaled it, though.

  She had loved the way he got so hot from climaxing on her face. She’d wanted it, but couldn’t have told him why and was glad he hadn’t asked.

  She had a few questions for him now, though. Things she realized she couldn’t ignore, even for the sake of more mind-numbing physical pleasure.

  Because once her brain came back online, too many thoughts vied for resolution.

  He came in, a huge grin creasing his face. “That’s a different look for you, wildcat.”

  “Shut it. I can’t help that your bathroom is woefully understocked.”

  “I have a blow-dryer. What more did you want?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. A little hair product? A diffuser for this ancient piece of…equipment.” The man’s blow-dryer needed to take a train back to the nineties where it belonged.

  “What’s the matter with my dryer?”

  “Other than the fact that it doesn’t have any adjustable settings and is heavier than Aunt Alma’s ledgers, nothing.”

  “It is almost as big as your arm.”

  She bared her teeth in the facsimile of a smile. “I know.”

  “Well, it sure puffed your hair up.” Laughter danced in his eyes.

  “I know.” She grimaced. “I’ll have to braid it.” The process was tedious, but she’d need the tight French braid to hide her puffball hair.

  Tack frowned. “My mom will notice the change in your hairstyle. We’ll need to stop by the B and B so you can change your clothes too. She’ll think you just changed for dinner with the family.”