Two Cabins, One Lake: An Alaskan Romance

by Shaye Marlow

  I hated this crap. This was why I didn’t live in town, considerations like these. Chased down and tackled on the lawn was so much easier. Simpler. And fun, much more fun than this premeditated crap.

  And now I was mad at him for making me stress out about this. My eyes narrowed as I dropped my skirt back around my calves.

  He’d gotten me wet. Literally, wet. Twice. Not to mention my pussy, which had been soaked almost since the first time I’d seen him. I could give him a little payback. I should give him a little payback. After all, what was I afraid of? That he’d chase me down and tackle me and give me an orgasm?

  …Yeah, now we’re on the same page.

  I put on my most flattering top, brushed my hair, and went and got a bucket. I picked it up, rubbing my fingers over the scratch marks on its side. I remembered this bucket. It was the one I’d smacked away from Gary’s chest so I could get to him after he set fire to my blueberries. I was still sore about that. Maybe if I got my teeth on him, I’d bite extra hard.

  Before I lost my nerve, I picked my way along the beach to his place. I scooped the bucket half-full of lake water, and then walked up his lawn. My heart was beating fast, my lower belly tight with anticipation.

  The sound of a hammer got louder. It seemed like it was coming from around back.

  I circled the porch, fingers tight on the bucket, my breath rasping in my chest.

  And there he was. The whole back wall of the living room had been torn down, and he was on his knees facing away from me, prying at a stubborn baseboard.

  I paused, taking him in. He wore another plain cotton T-shirt, and he actually was wearing a pair of Carhartts. The worn duck hugged the hard curves of his ass as he bent over, making my heart stutter. A rich city boy had no right to own a pair of Carhartts that well-used, let alone to look so damn good in them.

  And he looked like he knew what he was doing, efficiently dismantling that wall. All of his tools were set out across the interior space that had been stripped down to the plywood floor. A neat stack of lumber lay off to one side under a tarp, and large new windows leaned against the building beyond him.

  I hesitated. This was inappropriate. What person in their right mind just walked up onto someone else’s property and threw water on them? Especially on someone they barely knew, while they were working. It would be so childish, so rude…

  My lips curved. Gary had done it. My heroine would do it.

  And why not? There was a streak of crazy about a mile wide running through my family, and on this particular afternoon, I was going to embrace my heritage. Life is short—poke the bear.

  I threw the water on him. My aim was perfect, the brunt of it dead-on his back.

  He yelled, and flipped over onto his ass. He glared up at me, breathing hard.

  I was breathing hard, too, my shoulders trembling as I tried not to laugh.

  He leaned forward and pushed slowly to his feet, never taking his eyes off of me.

  I gulped, but stayed rooted. I wasn’t gonna run. I wanted to be caught.

  I squealed as he scooped me up into his arms. I flailed, terrified that he’d drop me. People didn’t pick me up. People knew better than to pick me up. I was a scary Alaskan chick with a big gun. The height was sickening, and the loss of control—I had no idea what he was going to do, and it made me cling embarrassingly tight to his head.

  He laughed as he peeled me off him—and then I screamed for real as he threw me.

  Splash!

  Fuck! Why hadn’t I seen this coming?

  I righted myself and pushed to my feet in the soft muck at the bottom of the lake. Ewwww. Squeegeeing water out of my eyes, I glared up at him.

  He was staring down at me. “Did I just see a flash of bare ass?” he asked.

  I hadn’t thought anything could, but a plunge in the lake seemed to have cooled my ardor. “I guess you’ll never know,” I said, turning, intending to avoid him entirely and swim back to my place.

  Splash!

  Strong hands grabbed me and pulled me back against a hard body.

  His forearm curled around my waist, while his hand slid down my side, gathering my wet skirt in his fingers, dragging it up. My nails dug into his arm, and I couldn’t seem to catch my breath as his callused fingers slid up the inside of my thigh.

  Then, he touched me.

  My world imploded. I threw my head back against his shoulder as my body tightened like a bow, grinding my clit against his fingers, and my ass against his growing erection. I moaned, long and low.

  “Fuck,” he said, a man after my own heart.

  His stubble scraped against my neck as his fingers slid between my plump, slick folds. His breath was on me, and then his hot mouth. He treated my neck like he had my breasts, latching on, sucking hard, scraping with his teeth. He wasn’t gentle, and I loved it.

  He drove me wild. I bucked against him, hyperaware of each delicious slide of those fingers. I reached back and grabbed his hips, dragging him even closer, grinding us together to the point of pain.

  And he was with me. He gave me what I wanted and more, pushing against me, squeezing my breast, his breath rasping fast and hot in my ear. Two thick digits pushed into me with authority, thrusting and curling. I made crazed noises as I arched into his hand, squeezing his fingers with delight. Yessss!

  And then I felt it. A stinging sensation on my ankle. And another. I gasped, eyes opening wide as realization struck like lightning.

  My breath released on a shriek. “Leeches!” I thrashed free of his hold, and flailed to shore. I ran up out of the water and dropped to my ass in his grass, swiping at the thin black things clinging to my pale skin. Alaskan leeches were nothing compared to the fat abominations in the Lower 48, but still—they were so disgusting! I shuddered as I got the last of them, still searching between my toes and twisting my leg this way and that to make absolutely sure.

  I finally looked up to realize my neighbor was sitting on his heels just a few feet away. He was wet up to his scrumptious shoulders, his brown shirt clinging to him like a layer of bittersweet chocolate icing. And he was staring at me.

  “Are you doing this on purpose?” he asked.

  I looked down at myself. Back at him. “What?”

  “Starting, then stopping. Teasing me. Frustrating me. This crazy act of yours—”

  My spine stiffened. See, this was why I hadn’t wanted him to talk. “Crazy act?” I asked, voice dangerously low. I realized at the last moment I’d put the emphasis on the wrong word, but I powered on, hoping he wouldn’t notice. “You’re the one who set fire to my blueberries, then splashed me, then trespassed.”

  “Your—blueberries?!” He looked momentarily puzzled, but then slashed his hand down, dismissing my argument. “We don’t like each other, I get it. But you want me,” he said, his eyes glinting.

  I gasped. “N—” Not real sure what I was going to say, probably some inane lie.

  He grabbed my ankle and dragged me across the grass to him. My skirt slid up, giving me a microsecond of panic. But then his weight was pressing down on me, and he had trapped my head between his hands, and his mouth sank down onto mine.

  “Uhhh-mmmm.” The sound ended on a sigh. I melted under him. Completely.

  His mouth was amazing. Drugging. Warm and gentle and skilled as hell.

  I had thought about drawing the line at kissing—it was way too intimate for what I had planned—but it only took him about two seconds to change my mind. How could I ever deprive myself of this?

  His lips, his tongue, the slide and smell of him, that perfect pressure. He was warm over me, and heavy, pressing me to the ground, and my body responded as if the leech incident had never happened. I felt myself growing wetter, and I opened my thighs, pulling him between them. The bulge of his fly pressed against me, making me shudder.

  I couldn’t breathe, and I couldn’t move. I was pinned to the ground, and it was the best, hottest kiss I’d ever had in the whole of my life.

  Our mouths to
re apart only when an airplane engine buzzed loud and low overhead.

  “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” he half-laughed, his hips rocking against me as if he couldn’t help himself.

  “Oh shit,” I panted. “Oh shit, I forgot.”

  He leaned back enough so I could see his raised brow. “You’re expecting somebody?”

  “My brothers,” I wheezed. My brothers were coming to visit. Today. How could I have forgotten? My mind had been addled, that’s how. Addled by lust.

  Oh, fuck. There went my plans for seduction. And my brothers wouldn’t just chase that plan away. They’d take it outside and use it for bullet practice. Then they’d chain it to the back of the four-wheeler and drag it through the woods, making sure it hit every root, every devil’s club, and every wild rosebush in a mile radius.

  We could both hear the plane circling the lake, angling for a landing.

  Gary cupped my jaw—and kissed me again. He kissed me like he was drowning, like the rest of the world didn’t exist, like there wasn’t an airplane full of my gun-toting siblings on final approach. There was just me, and him, my thighs around his hips, and my fingers tangled in his thick, silky hair.

  I forgot everything else, and I kissed him back with everything I had. Our tongues tangled, and our breath mingled, and he was in me so deep…

  He finally drew back, and his eyes looked into mine for an endless moment. His beautiful eyes.

  My heart thudded.

  No. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Gary was my evil neighbor. My fuck buddy, at most. Not a guy that made my heart fucking thud.

  I shoved him off me, and decided right then—I wasn’t kissing him again. Never, ever, no way, no sir.

  Chapter

  Eight

  My brothers’ plane cleared the trees on final descent as I was running, sopping wet from head to toe, back to my cabin. I slammed in through my door just after the plane touched down in the water, flew up to my loft, and did the fastest clothing change ever. New shirt, pants from yesterday, comb hands through hair—Shit! Not while on ladder!—sandals and out the door.

  I met them on my little dock just as the plane drifted up alongside. I bent to secure the float to the mooring cleats.

  The pilot climbed out, and the first thing I saw was his smirk. I had a sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach. He’d seen.

  Rob Fulk was a burly red-headed gentleman in his forties who owned and operated the local flight service. I knew him by name, I was friendly with him, he’d even slept on my couch once for two nights in a row when he’d gotten weathered in. He’d shown me pictures of his new granddaughter.

  And now I’d shown him my naked white thighs.

  But he didn’t say anything. He just gave me his usual greeting, a subtle nod with a murmured, “Helly.” And then he opened up the doors.

  My eldest brother Zack poured out, and my body was no longer my own. “Hel!” he cried. He picked me up in a crushing bear hug and twirled me around, ignoring the way the dock tipped dangerously under our combined weight. I couldn’t breathe and I kinda wanted to whack him, but he had my arms pinned to my sides. Probably a strategic move on his part.

  He finally set me down, and I couldn’t help but grin up at him. He was a big guy with messy white-blonde hair, scars on his face, and tattoos slathered liberally across his skin. He had played hockey for the Alaska Aces for several years, and my limited understanding of what he did included skating and hurting people. Actually sounded kinda like something I would have been good at. Of course, that had all changed with his knee injury last season. Lately, he’d been doing construction jobs with Rory.

  I saw Rory start to climb out after him, and I pushed at Zack’s arm. “Take your bag and getcher ass up to the cabin,” I said. “This dock won’t hold all of us.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, with a salute and a devilish grin. He slung a duffel over his shoulder, tucked a box of groceries under his other arm, and swaggered away. Or maybe that was a limp.

  “Little sister!” Rory lifted me off my feet and squeezed me till my ribs creaked. He and Zack were about the same size—or would have been, if Rory hadn’t let himself gain a few extra pounds. Being hugged by him was like being hugged by a tank.

  “Ror,” I croaked. I croaked again, a little more desperately this time, when I was suspended there for another couple seconds.

  “I’ve missed you,” Rory whispered in my ear.

  “Get off me, you overgrown brute,” I growled, trying to pry myself free. He let go suddenly, and I almost tipped back into the water.

  He rescued me at the last possible second, righting me with an evil grin.

  I kicked him.

  He pushed me.

  I grabbed his arm and bent his pinkie back until he yowled, and then kicked him again.

  J.D. laughed from inside the plane, kicking his brother from the back seat. “Go, you wuss. Outta the way.”

  J.D. was the runt of the litter. Where the others were each a couple inches over six foot—both damn near a full foot taller than me—J.D. topped out at a slender 5’9”. He swung out of the plane and landed with deadly grace.

  The thing about J.D. was, being the youngest and the smallest, he’d still thought he ought to be able to kick his brothers’ asses. So he learned karate. Now he was a third or eighth or twenty-second—yeah, I wasn’t sure, bad sister!—level black belt. Not to mention the wrestling, and Muay Thai, and whatever the newest fighting trend was.

  The other two might shoot my plan and drag it at the end of a chain, but J.D.? He’d beat it to death with his bare hands. And maybe his feet.

  J.D. wrapped me up in a tight hug, though he alone seemed to understand I didn’t appreciate being crushed. Then he nudged me to the side, scooped up the remaining bags, and ran after his brothers. “I call the couch!” he shouted.

  The hostile takeover had begun.

  I stood there for a few moments, staring after them. Then, like an idiot, I glanced toward the neighbor’s cabin. Gary was there, standing on his porch, still soaked to his armpits. Our eyes met.

  Rob had seen, but somehow—somehow—my brothers had missed the heated embrace on my neighbor’s lawn.

  Upon entering my cabin, I was immediately hit by the riot of noise and motion. J.D. was unpacking an Xbox, Zack was digging around in my tiny fridge, and Rory…

  “He cupped her quivering breasts. ‘Yes,’ she cried. ‘Yes, yes! Take me now, Alfred. I want your huge, throbbing cock!’”

  “Ah!” I yelled. I crossed the cabin in a flash, and tried to shoulder Rory away from my computer. “I did not write that!”

  He laughed, picking up the laptop and easily evading my grasping hands. He adopted a ridiculous falsetto. “Put it in my mouth! Please, Alfred, I want every inch of your huge sausage. I want to guzzle gallons of your cum! I need your hot splooge like I need air!”

  “Put that down!” I yelled. “I haven’t backed up my files and you’re gonna break it!” I should have secured the damn thing with a passcode before they came. I usually did, and I would have, but then I’d gotten busy with my neighbor instead.

  And now Rory was spouting shoddy drivel and passing it off as my writing.

  His hero’s voice was low, over-sexed. “That’s right, suck my big dick, Tasha,” he said. “And Amie, lick my balls. Yes, just like that. Mmm, twins.”

  J.D. was laughing. He threw a pillow at his brother. “You’re an idiot,” he said.

  “Where’s the beer?” Zack demanded. He was rummaging in the boxes they’d piled on the table, looking frenzied. “Did we forget the beer?”

  “Give. It. Back,” I growled at Rory, giving him my crazy eyes.

  They worked. He suddenly handed the laptop to me.

  I took it with a sigh, and turned to set it gently back where it belonged.

  Rory shot up my ladder to the loft. “I wonder if there’s a vibrator up here,” he said.

  “Goddammit!” I dumped the laptop on my desk and chased him upsta
irs.

  He was bent over, pulling open the drawer of my nightstand. “Aha! What have we—”

  I head-butted him. We crashed into the far wall.

  Before he could recover, I grabbed his nuts, and then squeezed. He slid down the wall and folded onto his knees until we were almost at the same eye level. When I was sure I had his attention, I hissed, “Repeat after me.”

  Rory nodded.

  “This is Helly’s bedroom.”

  He repeated.

  “The loft is Helly’s personal space. I will respect Helly’s personal space. I will not go into Helly’s personal space, for any reason. I will stay the fuck downstairs.”

  “Does she have you by the balls again?” Zack yelled from the kitchen.

  Rory squeaked an affirmative. I heard J.D. laughing, and then that distinctive Xbox logo sound as he fired it up.

  “Sucks, dude. Shoulda stayed downstairs,” Zack said.

  “Do you understand?” I asked.

  He nodded.

  I released him. “Go.”

  Rory fled. “It’s pink!” he announced as he slid down the ladder. “And it had those little bunny ears!”

  Fuuuuck. I dragged my hand down my face.

  “That’s sick, man, looking at your sister’s jackrabbit,” J.D. said. It sounded like he was scrolling through a menu.

  “Aha!” Zack crowed. “Crisis averted! Ladies and gentlemen, the beer. Has been. Found!” I heard a beer fizz, and the sound of a cap landing on my floor.

  I strode across my loft, slid down my ladder like Rory had, and crossed to Zack, who was just lifting a long-neck to his lips. I stole it from his hands, tipped it up to my mouth, and chugged. And chugged. And chugged.

  I drank until there was none left, then plopped down on my couch and grabbed a controller. “Diablo III,” I growled, and then motioned at Zack to gimme another. I’d need it to cope with their visit. The trick was to be just tipsy enough that I’d roll with their punches, but not drunk enough that I told them about my crush on the neighbor.