by Zara Cox
‘You want me to spell it out?’
‘Just so we’re clear, yes.’
‘You. Me. In the tent. Tonight. Doing whatever you were planning to do.’
Her words were deliberately phrased to get a rise out of me. And fuck, did they just. My cock hardened at the imagery, my gaze unable to shift from the perfect curve of her lips. No wonder she had men in a lather all over the globe.
She already had me in a lather, all over the innocuous idea of spending the night in a tent under the Alaskan sky. Time to defuse this before it got out of hand.
‘I always travel with a tent. You don’t know when the weather will turn. Or when a night shoot will reap rewards.’
‘What particular reward were you hoping for?’
I shrugged. ‘The forecast is for a clear night. I was hoping to score a borealis on video as part of the project.’
I caught the faintest hitch of her breath. She didn’t outwardly show her excitement, but the thought of witnessing an aurora borealis was a phenomenon most people rhapsodised over.
She slowly lowered her heels and slipped her shades back on, but even with the shield, I felt the power of her hypnotising stare. ‘In that case I’m going to have to insist on staying,’ she said after several seconds.
My pulse tripped, then raced at full speed. The thought of spending the long hours of the night with her in a tent, a woman even the most red-blooded alpha males feared, filled me with equal measures of dread and anticipation.
Overlay that with the persistent thought that she could be a Domme...
Again, where I should’ve refused, I found myself shrugging, moving to the back of the sled to grab a thicker anorak. Returning to where she stood watching me, I held it out. ‘It’s a bit of a trek, sometimes over rough terrain. Bumps and bruises are unavoidable but wear this and you won’t freeze to death.’
She took the anorak and shrugged it over her suit, then sent me another spine-tingling smile. ‘Thanks. And when we arrive at our destination, you can tell me what her name is.’
I froze. ‘Excuse me?’
‘The name behind the baggage you’re running away from. I’m sure she has one. I’d love to hear about her.’
CHAPTER THREE
I WATCHED HIM attend to the dogs, his movements efficient, capable, and yet sexily streamlined in a way that made me want to watch him on an endless loop. Which was absurd in itself, because I was used to beautiful men, wealthy, filthily pampered men who strutted about, cushioned by power and privilege.
Even hardened men like my brothers, Gideon and Bryce, who had been through their own versions of hell and back but had somehow managed to rise above, didn’t hold as much interest for me as this man did.
You should’ve paid more attention, because they both seem to have found answers to love and acceptance that you haven’t.
I pushed the thought away, my gaze lingering on Jensen as he petted his dogs, his back turned decidedly on me.
Why was I pursuing this? Why was the urge to needle and probe sliding like a narcotic through my blood? Something about the man had captivated me from the first, even besides the strong possibility that he was a sub. While I’d had my own versions of no in the past—my parents delivering the most gut-wrenching one of all—I wasn’t sure why this particular reluctance from him made me even more determined.
Determined to do what, precisely?
Exactly how did I expect this to go? I was emotionally bankrupt, according to myriad blood relatives, past lovers and strangers. I had nothing valuable to give, save my money, of course. After years of tossing those opinions away like so much chaff, I had finally been forced by my innate stubbornness to admit that perhaps they—and my mother—were right.
Every relationship was doomed to failure. Hell, even my brothers were avoiding me, my bitterness and emotional inadequacy making them run for the hills rather than spend time with me.
I couldn’t even blame them any more. And it certainly didn’t help that I was the spitting image of my mother. The mother who’d callously abandoned us decades ago and never looked back.
The urge to grab the satellite phone, summon my helicopter and get the hell off this barren landscape pulled at me.
I reached for the phone just as Jensen rose and pivoted towards me. Thoughts of leaving evaporated. Something about this man captivated me, made me want to dig deeper beneath the thick layer of concrete he wasn’t shy about putting up.
I would’ve admired his resolve, if he hadn’t ignored me for the better part of an hour and a half.
We’d arrived at his chosen site twenty minutes ago and set up camp on a flat landscape with nothing but snow for miles around. Being born into wealth and spending most waking minutes in the lap of luxury where every whim was catered to had inevitably cultivated healthy jadedness about most things well before I hit my twenties.
But looking around now, I couldn’t help but be overawed by the stunning beauty around me. And as much as I wanted to dismiss it, Jensen was a big part of that draw.
I’d perused his portfolio on the plane ride to Alaska. He was unapologetically talented at his job and had no modesty or pretensions about it. Sure, it grated that he was pretending I didn’t exist at the moment. I would’ve been amused had it not been for the wicked little thrill that tunnelled inside me every time he glanced my way. It pleased me that he was fighting this connection between us. And failing. The man couldn’t help but look at me every few minutes.
He hadn’t answered my question, though.
His gorgeous face had grown taut and forbidding, warning that my question about who had treated him badly wasn’t going to be answered.
Yeah, I’d probably stepped over the line with that one. But, hell, wasn’t that one of my many flaws, according to those who branded themselves experts on me?
I summoned one of my ‘ice princess’ smiles as he approached. ‘Is this going to be an exercise on who blinks first? If so I’m happy to throw in the towel. You don’t have to answer the question if you don’t want to. I’m happy to let it be.’
He stopped at the entrance of the tent, his gaze pinning me where I sat in the folding chair he’d provided when he’d started setting up the tent. He’d firmly refused my offer of help, a move that’d stung a little more than I cared to admit. So what if I was out of my depth in this whole...snowy outdoors thing, and I’d probably have got in his way more than helped? I could follow instruction. On occasion.
‘Are you?’ he asked, his voice a little stiff and that edgy look still on his face.
‘Not really,’ I admitted. ‘I still want to know.’
‘Why?’
‘I’m a hopelessly curious creature, Mr Scott. I can’t help but wonder why a man like you would consign himself to this wilderness for weeks on end.’
‘And you automatically assume it’s because of a woman?’
‘Isn’t it?’
Something flickered in his eyes, something that sparked a kindred light inside me. One that burned brighter with every second he held my gaze.
‘Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t,’ he muttered eventually. ‘But that’s all you’re going to get.’
I didn’t tell him, of course, that his little addendum had only fuelled the need for satisfaction. That need for resolution born of stubbornness and desperation that had brought me more heartache than I cared to catalogue.
He ducked into the tent, emerging a minute later with a weatherproof bag he set down a dozen feet away. In silence, he lit a camp stove and started dinner. When he handed me a cup of coffee five minutes later, I answered with a smile. He stared down at me for a second longer than necessary before returning to his task.
I sipped the coffee, groaning as the warmth chased away the worst of the cold.
That drew his gaze again, as if he couldn’t help himself. I hid a smile and finished my coffe
e, just as the aroma of pasta carbonara drifted towards me. Jensen dished out two bowls and held one out to me.
‘Thank you.’
He nodded, went into the tent and brought out a thick rug, which he tossed onto the ground. Watching him fold his six-foot-plus frame before me, a cross-legged position that placed him at my feet, punched a deep longing that made my breath catch.
Perhaps he was aware of what he’d just done—that right up there on a Dominant’s most cherished wish was a willing submissive at their feet—because he froze too, his eyes holding mine for a charged moment before returning to his bowl.
We ate in silence, eerie white darkness gathering around us as night fell and the moon rose.
‘Her name is Stephanie,’ he volunteered grudgingly.
I nodded, torn between satisfaction that he’d answered of his own free will and a peculiar dart of jealousy that I now had the name of the person who’d contributed to Jensen’s wary reserve. I concentrated on eating, attempting to ignore the latter emotion.
‘Not going to push for more?’ he asked after a long stretch. ‘Now you know, you’re no longer interested?’ he added with a trace of snark.
‘You used the present tense just now. I may be many things, but I’m not a woman who encroaches on another woman’s territory. Not even to satisfy simple curiosity.’ I was lying, of course. I was way more interested than simple curiosity dictated.
‘She’s no longer in my life. Feel free to encroach away.’
Why did that invitation make my heart jump? Make temptation surge high? ‘Are you sure?’
He shrugged.
‘Maybe I won’t encroach. Maybe I’ll simply sit back and savour the mystery of you, like a fine wine.’
The lamps he’d set outside the tent illuminated enough for me to catch the slight flare of his nostrils at my words. The strong movement of his throat as he swallowed.
He wasn’t unaffected by me. Far from it. And the longer we stayed out here under the star-dappled sky, for all the world the only two people left on this planet, the more I was tempted to discard the vow I’d made to myself.
The vow of no more relationships.
The vow to focus on the things I could control, like my charity work. So why the next words tripped from my lips, I would never fathom. ‘Do you like the idea of being savoured, Jensen?’
He tensed at my use of his name, but it wasn’t affront that bristled from him. It was something far more potent. Hot and wicked and carnal, it reached out in the space between us, wrapping itself around us the way only two people dangerously attracted to each other could be affected.
In the silent landscape disturbed only by intermittent faint cracking ice, he stared at me, want and need and lust building in his eyes until his chest rose and fell with rapid rhythms.
Beneath the thermal layers, my skin tightened, heat pooling as my body answered with equal fervour.
But slowly his face hardened again. ‘I’m not one of the men you can toy with and discard when it suits you.’
Needles of hurt stung deep. I pushed the sensations away, telling myself it was better this way. Better that he thought he knew enough about me to believe the lies and make judgements for himself. That meant he was interested despite his better judgement. That meant neither of us would be seriously invested.
‘The last thing I want to do with you is play, believe me.’
His fingers tightened around his bowl, the last bite forgotten. A second later, his jaw gritted. ‘My bedpost-notching days are behind me. Sorry.’
‘Are we talking about my bed or yours?’
‘Yours is purportedly far more interesting than mine.’
This time the grating lingered longer, sharp disappointment lancing me as I stared at his averted profile. ‘I’m surprised. I wouldn’t have pegged you for a tabloid chaser.’
‘I’m not,’ he said tightly.
‘Really? Because I could’ve sworn you just judged me by the contents spewed out on a regular basis in gossip rags.’
His gaze returned to mine, digging, attempting to see far more than I was willing to show him. ‘I’m an experienced adventurist and can easily prove that there can be the smoke without fire. Is that what you’re asking me to believe?’
I could’ve responded in a great many ways, batted him away with sarcasm and flippancy. But when I opened my mouth, only one raw, unguarded word emerged. ‘Yes.’
His gaze was sceptical and probing, but it wavered for a moment to reveal another expression.
He wanted to believe me.
My heart leapt, a foolish action that I immediately condemned.
There was nothing to be excited about here. Bitter experience insisted that, regardless of how it started, inevitably every relationship ended with acrimony and pain. Trust wasn’t a commodity I gave away freely; lately, I wasn’t sure I possessed it any more.
That bracing reminder cooled some of the heat rampaging through my blood. It drove me to my feet, and I glanced around for somewhere to put the bowl.
Jensen rose too, once again towering over me as he reached for it. With quick, efficient movements, he rinsed the bowls out and tucked them away.
Within a minute he was back, tall and mouth-watering, in front of me. But the past remained a hard reminder, a harsh voice that said I couldn’t even explore, out here in the middle of nowhere, without further risking the last of my emotional reserves.
But does it have to be that heavy? You could just no-strings fuck him.
Temptation slithered inside, quickening as my gaze dropped to his sensual lips, slowly parted as he stared at me. The air thickened between us, his eyes darkening with every second that ticked away.
‘Careful there, Jensen,’ I murmured. ‘Or I’ll think you want me to truly savour you.’
One corner of his mouth tilted in a sexy little smile that jerked the strings attaching my brain to my pussy. ‘Better that than being downed like a shot and forgotten about.’
‘That’s what you’re worried about? That you’ll be forgettable to someone?’
A shadow cast over his features, indicating I’d hit near enough to a bullseye. The urge to probe deeper surged through me. But then his gaze dropped, to rest somewhere near my throat, possibly at the frantic pulse beating there. Or, as I suspected, the submissive nature screaming out to me was rising, despite his attempt to ignore it. Need flared again, intensifying with each second.
‘What if I am?’ he murmured.
Unable to resist, I raised my hand, brought it close without touching his taut jaw. ‘False modesty doesn’t become you. You’re as far from unforgettable as it’s possible to get and I’m pretty sure you know that.’
He smiled, but the shadows remained in his eyes. And because I’d exhausted the willpower to remain this close to him without touching him, I ignored every last reservation, leaned up and pressed my lips against his.
He tensed for a frozen moment, and then his lips were clinging to mine, opening up beneath the pressure of my kiss, a grunt escaping his throat as he leaned down, granting me access to better explore him.
He was delicious. Heady, in a way that made my senses swim even before I’d taken my next breath. I swept my tongue over his slightly parted lips, and he groaned, pressed closer, wanting more. That fierce connection, that need to have my instincts satisfied, drove me to kiss him deeper, start an erotic dance with him.
Gloriously, he followed, met me stroke for stroke, intensifying the kiss. His teeth nipped, nibbling and tasting. My clit swelled, need building till the slickness dampened my panties.
Through it all, Jensen held his hands at his sides, adding another degree of certainty to my instincts that when it came to all things sensual and sexual, Jensen Scott would truly submit, wouldn’t proceed without express permission.
My permission. My domination.
My heart and senses raced at the thought, saturating me with a sense of promise until I swayed under the strength of it. But it was short-lived, my spirits deflating. In less than twenty-four hours, the real world would beckon, and with it the knowledge that nothing this good ever withstood the pressures of a Mortimer life.
If we were really going to do this, all I had was this one night to savour him as I’d loftily offered.
I’d warned him about believing everything he read in the paper. Was I really about to embark on a one-night stand, my very first with a mysterious but intriguing man I’d only just met?
Why not? If that’s what we both want?
But was it?
I trailed my hand over his jaw, neck and down a chest ridged with his rock-hard muscles. He jerked, reacting to me despite the layers of clothes between us. Insanely thrilled by his response, I took my time with him, fingers lingering as I headed south.
I disengaged from the kiss just before I reached his belt. I watched him, absorbed the almost haggard arousal etched into his face; took in the lowered gaze resting on my breasts. Pulling my lips between my teeth as anticipation blazed through me, I trailed my hand the last scant inches and gripped his hard length through the layers of clothes.
‘Fuck,’ he breathed.
I bit back a moan of my own, unwilling to admit how much his unguarded reaction pleased me. Despite the warnings shrieking in my head to slow down, think this through properly, I continued to stroke him, learning his length and girth and glorying in the heat and power of him. After a minute, I leaned closer, brushed my lips against his in a light kiss. ‘Do you feel savoured yet?’
He gave an abrupt shake of his head, his tongue flicking out to taste my lower lip. ‘More. Please.’
I curbed my smile, even as my heart jumped. This was so foolish. Disappointment surely lurked around the corner. But for the life of me I couldn’t stop touching him.
A harsher wind swept over us, and, despite the insulation of clothes keeping the worst of the chill out, I shivered. Immediately, he unzipped the opening to the tent.
‘Let’s go inside. It’s freezing out here.’
