Wild Women of Alaska Collection

by Tiffinie Helmer

  “Why keep it from me?” he asked. “Why not just admit we’d kissed when I asked you the first time?”

  “You made me promise never to speak of it.” Among other things at the point when he’d been ripping her heart out of her chest and slicing it into itty bitty pieces.

  “Why would I do that?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. Only you know the answer to that.”

  “You’re driving me crazy!” he growled, tossing his hands up. “Just tell me.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Because I fucking told you not to?”

  “Made me promise. There’s a big difference between the two.”

  “Shouldn’t my asking you to tell me cancel out any promise you made to me before?”

  She smiled, the action laced with sadness rather than merriment. “You warned me you’d say something like that. So, no, I can’t. I’m sorry, Sloan. It’s for the best.” For both of them.

  The confusion was obviously eating at him. But she’d promised, and one thing she did keep was her promises. Especially when they benefitted her survival. “Let it go, Sloan.”

  Jesse turned away, and searched out her backpack that he’d brought in from the plane. Last she’d seen the overnight bag, it had taken a trip across the table and landed on the floor. She located it and set it on the table to unpack the contents. Sloan watched her every move. The emotions radiating off him were hot enough to heat the cabin. There was no need for the fire blazing in the fireplace. They didn’t need any more heat. She wished she could strip off the bulky sweatshirt he’d given her to wear.

  She felt very much like prey, with Sloan summing up how best to take her down and make her talk. He could do it, too, no question there. But would he? Jesse was banking on him being more scared of her than she was of him. Or maybe she could bluff her way through until one of them believed it.

  She opened her backpack. Good, clothes that fit her. It was hard wearing Sloan’s, knowing they’d laid against his skin. They smelled like him, a potent mix of forest and lake. Plus she probably looked very unattractive. Not that she wanted to look more attractive.

  Give it up, of course, she did. This was Erich Sloan. Asshole or not, she needed to look her best. Looking good for a woman was like wearing armor into battle. Made her feel more confident when she felt anything but sure of herself.

  Jesse pulled out her black yoga pants and black short sleeve t-shirt and small toiletry bag. Yeah, she could work with these. Much better than the oversized brown potato bag he’d given her.

  She had to keep Sloan off balance so he didn’t figure out she’d done things with him that she’d never done with another man. Things she was tempted to do again. The walls of the cabin seemed to be closing in on her, making her see only him. Want him again. And that would only lead to more heartache.

  She needed space. Space to clear her head and decide what she was going to do before her heart did something stupid. “Be right back.” She gathered up her clothes and toiletry bag and closed herself in the bathroom.

  What had he made her promise?

  That wasn’t like him. He hated secrets. It was one of the main reasons he no longer worked for the military, and had made a life out here in the bush with no one close by. No secrets living by yourself. No one lied to him anymore. No one to betray him and cause the deaths of people he cared about. For that matter, no people to care about. Safe. Controlled. He preferred living his life like this.

  But then why the hell had he purposely kept secrets from himself? Fuck. Maybe he was going crazy.

  He buried his hands in his hair, pulling at the roots. This night with Jesse was going to do him in. He knew it.

  So he’d kissed her before. He remembered her taste when he’d kissed her earlier and alarm bells had rung loud and clear inside his head, piercing in their clarity. He wanted to taste her again. Wanted to feel her naked under him, over him, her arms and legs wrapped around him while he was deep inside her, loving her.

  Shit.

  He scrubbed his face. Fuzzy images played on the fringes of his memory. They were elusive, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t grasp them, bring them into focus. Yet they taunted him.

  And there was more.

  A big part of him was scared to try too hard to bring those images into focus, while the other more voracious side of him had to know every goddamn thing and was trying to peel away the layers.

  Jesse knew. Promise or not, he would get her to tell him.

  Or he could kiss her again.

  His heart raced at the thought, and he glanced at the bathroom door. She couldn’t stay in there forever. There was nowhere for her to go. Nowhere for him to go. He looked out the window. It was like they were imprisoned in a snow globe. Alone except for each other, with nothing to do to fill the long hours ahead.

  He picked up the bottle of ouzo, poured himself another shot and tossed it back. A lot of good that did. He cleaned up the glasses and put the bottle back on the shelf.

  No more hiding behind the liquor. He had to face her. Face himself, and what he might have done to her.

  Running away and hiding each time she’d delivered supplies hadn’t worked. Fate had crash-landed Jesse in his front yard, like it was making him deal with his demons.

  Think it out, Sloan. Just like plotting a book, start with the motivation.

  Jesse didn’t seem to fear him, so he hadn’t raped her. Thank you, God. Plus, if he had, she’d have killed him. That, he knew in his gut.

  But how far had he gone? She was wary, but was that because of the stupid promise, or him and what they’d done? Or both?

  Jesse gave as good as she got. He hadn’t met a woman who could hold her own like she did. But then, she had to in order to succeed in her line of business. She flew into some dicey places, with dicier people than him. That, he knew from talking with Cin over the years.

  Forget the people. Jesse knew how to deal with wild animals, weather, and temperamental engines. She dealt with serious shit every day and yet thrived in her profession. She was happy. Even when she was pissed at him, Sloan knew that Jesse loved her life. She shone from the inside out. So whatever had happened between them four months ago hadn’t damaged her. Either that, or he was delusional and seeing what he wanted to see. She could be good at faking it. A lot of women were. But he didn’t think she would. If she were really pissed, she’d be more likely to let him starve out here on his own and never deliver any supplies to him .

  No, she wouldn’t. She’d show. Jesse had more integrity than most.

  So what had happened between them four months ago?

  He remembered everything right up to her arriving. He’d gotten a nasty cut on his upper back, just below his shoulder, while building the greenhouse. The wound had needed stitches, and he’d done his best, but the cut had been too low on his shoulder and he was only so flexible. Within days he’d known it was infected and had tried everything to clear it up. But the fever came, and then everything had gone foggy.

  Somehow he had to remember.

  It was almost like he was at a crossroads. Should he turn right or left, or for that matter, should he turn around and forget it all?

  On the table were the other things Jesse had pulled out of her bag. He reached for the black tablet-like electronic device just as the bathroom door opened. Leaving the pad on the table, he turned toward Jesse. His mouth fell open, and the blood in his brain drained south.

  How did she do that? Completely dressed in form-fitting black, her hair now secured in a topknot with a clip, she looked sleek and sophisticated. And sexy as hell.

  “What?” she asked, brushing the knit fabric of her shirt, making it pull tighter across her breasts. “Something wrong?”

  “Why’d you change?” He needed her to stay covered up. Even though she was dressed, he could see everything. The size of her breasts, the way her waist nipped suggestively in and then her hips flared wide, just right to fit him between them. And those long legs.


  Christ.

  Jesse bent and placed the folded sweats and sweatshirt he’d found for her on a chair and he got a good look at her smooth backside.

  “No offense,” she said, “but my clothes are more comfortable than yours.”

  He grunted. She didn’t know what it felt like to be uncomfortable. He yanked out a chair and dropped into it before all the blood left him and he fell at her feet. He was a little dizzy at the sight of her.

  “You okay?” she asked.

  “What’s this?” he pointed to the pad on the table. Anything to get her attention off the reaction she created in him.

  “You haven’t seen an iPad before?”

  “An iPad? What, like an iPhone?”

  “How long have you been living out here?”

  “A while. Just inform me.”

  “Yeah, kind of like an iPhone but so much more. It’s like an interactive laptop. See.” She turned on the side button. Color and graphics flared on the screen. “How do you write all that technical stuff in your books and not know what an iPad is?”

  “Assassins wouldn’t be caught dead with something like that.”

  She laughed, and then laughed harder when Sloan took a minute to catch onto the pun he’d accidentally made. He had no blood in his brain. Conversation was going to be hard. Another pun.

  He’d never been harder in his life than he was right now. He adjusted his seat, pulling at the groin of his pants, giving himself some more room. Could a man die of a boner?

  “And I didn’t say I didn’t know what an iPad was,” he clarified. “I just haven’t seen one before.” Maybe playing with this computer would get his mind off of playing with her. He held out his hand. “May I?”

  Chapter Eleven

  Jesse handed Sloan the iPad. He took it from her, being careful not to touch her.

  “What do you use it for?” he asked.

  Jesse walked around the table to stand beside him. He stiffened in his chair to keep from reaching for her. “See, here. I have my schedule, route, lists of supplies needed and already dropped off. Plus, entertainment. I can read books, watch movies, all at the touch of my finger.” She slid her fingers across the screen and gave him a mini tour.

  “Don’t you need to be connected to the internet?”

  “If I have the items downloaded ahead of time, I don’t. To download or send emails, yes, I do.”

  “The government could still track you on this.” He turned it over and looked at the back. “Can I take it apart? There could be a GPS device implanted.”

  “No, give me that.” She took the iPad, hid it back in her bag and then set the bag on the floor in the corner. “I don’t really believe in all that stuff. I’m not interesting enough to spy on.”

  The hell she wasn’t. “You should be worried.”

  “Is that why you type on an old-fashioned typewriter?”

  “One of the many reasons. You need to reconsider how much information you have that is accessible from the internet. Your phone, that pad, your computer.”

  “Isn’t that a little paranoid?”

  “You should be paranoid. Don’t fool yourself into thinking Big Brother isn’t listening or watching you from that thing. It has a camera, right?”

  “Life isn’t one of your books.”

  “No. Life is scarier. Take my word for it. Living off the grid is more freedom than sacrifice.”

  She walked back toward him and set her hands on the table. “What happened to you?”

  He stared up at her for a long moment. “I don’t like to share.”

  “I know. But seriously, what are we going to do all night?”

  Did she really just ask him that?

  He looked at her from under his brows and got a thrill when a flush turned her skin a delicate pink. He wondered how far that blush traveled under those soft, tight black clothes.

  She straightened and paced away from him. “Listen, Sloan, neither one of us is going to get any sleep with that blizzard raging outside. I’m too antsy to watch a movie or read—” she swiveled toward him with an expectant look on her face “—unless you let me read what you’re currently writing—”

  “No way in hell is that going to happen.” He couldn’t even read what he’d written without squirming. He couldn’t imagine watching her read them.

  “Come on, give me some spoilers. What’s going to happen between Jack and Logan?”

  “Not talking about it.”

  “Then you’d better think of something we can talk about. I’m going to go crazy.”

  She was in good company then.

  “Do you have a deck of cards?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “Who would I play with?”

  “Uhm…solitaire? No? Okay, that would leave board games out too then?”

  He nodded.

  “We could talk.”

  He didn’t want to talk. He wanted to fuck. And if she kept pacing back and forth like she was doing, being all animated with her hips and arms, he wouldn’t have a pure thought left in his head.

  “I’d really like to know the man you are. Not the man I’ve read about.”

  “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why would you give a shit about me? I’m just a delivery to you.”

  She paused in her pacing as she thought over her answer. He held his breath. Did he actually hope she cared a little? That he might be more to her than one of her deliveries. Oh shit, he didn’t want to care about her. About anyone.

  “Sloan, I’ve read your books, and you can’t tell me that you can write stories like you do and not put a little bit of yourself in each one.”

  “Don’t romanticize me. I’m not a nice man. I can be a real asshole. I don’t like company. Don’t like to talk. This is the most I’ve spoken in probably months.” Maybe he should pull the ouzo back down from the shelf, as his throat was getting hoarse.

  “Yes, you’re an asshole,” she agreed. “And I actually like you anyway. What do you think about that?”

  He adjusted his seat. “You’re a fool, and you talk too much.”

  “Really? Maybe you should learn a few things about me. For one, I have a contrary nature.”

  “Can’t you just…sit down…and be still?” he ground out through clenched teeth.

  “Actually, no. Another thing about me is that I have a fast metabolism, and it’s really hard for me to be still.”

  All that nervous energy bundled in her tight body needing an outlet. Christ.

  “I’m fun to hang with. People like me. I’ve been told that I’m engaging, so you really should answer my questions.”

  “Or what? You’re going to force me?” He laughed, the sound full of challenge rather than humor. “Woman, you have no idea how much danger you are in right now. I haven’t had sex in a really long time. You’re parading yourself in front of a hungry man, one who finds you very appealing. Who’s going to stop me from taking you?”

  Chapter Twelve

  Oooh, she’d had it. Time to put up or shut up.

  She stopped pacing and faced him, his words sending a thrill through her that she couldn’t ignore. “You think you scare me?”

  “I know I do.”

  Okay, so maybe he did. Not physically, but emotionally. But she’d never felt more alive than when bantering with him. No, that wasn’t true. Earlier today when she thought she was going to die, and then the last time she’d been here, in his arms, his body moving inside hers. Those were the times she’d felt most alive.

  Could she have sex with him this time and keep her heart out of it? Lock that sucker down so that she just enjoyed him physically? This feeling, these needs, had nothing to do with her heart. She wanted him, plain and simple.

  Having sex again wouldn’t break her promise. What he figured out on his own was his business.

  Rather than move away from him like he’d obviously assumed she would, she moved in. “You’re a lot of talk. A lot of veiled threats, but just so we’re
clear, I want you to take me. Take me hard and fast, over and over again, until neither one of us can move. How do you like that reality, Erich Sloan?”

  A choked sound escaped him. He stood so fast his chair fell backward to the floor with a loud whack. He grabbed her, his hands bracketing around her upper arms, and leaned down so he was right at eye-level with her. “You are an impulsive child, and have no idea who you’re dealing with.”

  “Newsflash, I’m not a child, and I know exactly who I’m dealing with. And I want you anyway.” She buried her fingers in his hair and sealed her mouth over his. A strangled groan came from him and his knees buckled. Jesse thought he was going to drop her to the hardwood, but he crushed her to him instead, stumbling as he kicked the chair out of the way, and braced her against the edge of the table.

  His hands snaked under her top, and yanked it over her head. “Oh, God, you taste—” His mouth was on hers again, cutting off his words. Her bra immediately followed her top, and then his hands were cupping her breasts.

  An animal sound vibrated up from his depths, and she suddenly had some misgivings that she’d pushed him too hard. She hadn’t had a lot of sexual experience, and didn’t know if she could actually take him as fast as he was determined to have her. That was what she got for teasing a wild animal. Now it was her turn to put up or shut up.

  His beard scraped against her neck, and sensations erupted across her skin. His mouth was at her breasts, his tongue teasing her nipples. Feelings overwhelmed her and she arched helplessly into him. He grabbed her hips and ground against her.

  “Yes,” she hissed, her teeth nipping the cords of his neck, as he rubbed his thick, hard shaft against the heat of her. She pulled open his flannel shirt, buttons popping and scattering around the table and floor.

  He picked her up and set her down on the table. Stepping back, he yanked off his clothes.

  Wow, he was beautiful. Chiseled, tanned, wild. She reached out for him, wanting to touch his chest, those arms, lick her way down to his hard stomach until she reached his very impressive erection. Her tongue came out and wet her lips at the thought of having him in her mouth.