Alaskan Nights (17 page)

“I can imagine fantasizing about whipped cream in bed, but never shaving cream. Unless that’s more of your kinky side showing through. You like a man to shave you? Hmmm. Never done that before, but it could be fun.”

“You’re impossible.” She shoved at his shoulder but then sighed and rested her forehead against his chest, her cheeks flaming with embarrassed heat.

“No, darlin’, you’re the impossible one.” He rubbed his chin in her hair then kissed the top of her head. “All fire one second, the shy little nurse the next. You make me crazy.” He ran his big, warm hand slowly up and down her back. She wished she’d taken off her too-thick sweatshirt. “I think you’re actually a wood sprite. You’re not real. Just a crazy figment of my imagination because I hit my head too hard one too many times.”

“You do seem to have a problem with that. Bumping your head, I mean.” He smelled good. Fresh air, spruce needles, and that scent that was uniquely his own. All man. All Brandon. She hoped she’d never forget the way he smelled. Never wanted to forget the sensation of being in his arms, his low voice rumbling in her ear.

“Tell me about it. When I woke up in the hospital after the explosion, my head hurt worse than the burns. For a while, anyway.”

“Tell me about your job?” She ran her fingers over his shoulder where she knew his skin was slightly pink from the burns. She felt a scar, one she’d seen earlier. “And how you got this?”

“Well...” He kissed her temple, nuzzled her cheek. Her skin seemed to tighten over her entire body, and it took all her will to stifle a whimper.

“That was...” He sighed as if debating whether or not to tell her.

“You were shot, weren’t you?” Her fingers skimmed over the small star-shaped scar on his shoulder, and her heart lurched.

“Yeah. I was a homicide detective in Seattle. It was just before Sheila quit the force. She’s never said anything, but I think she still feels guilty over it. It wasn’t her fault at all, but that’s just the way she is. We were after a man who’d killed his brother. We went to his house at five in the morning to catch him unaware. Well, he was aware. Sheila was my backup. See, we’d take turns with the lead, but before we even made it in the front door, the guy got two shots off before he fled out the back of the house. The other officers that were supposed to be in position weren’t. Sheila didn’t have a chance to fire, and I went down like a ton of bricks.”

She could feel him smile against her forehead but couldn’t see anything funny at all about being shot.

“That’s when Sheila and Case got together. Our lieutenant—he was a real ass—put Sheila on babysitting duty as punishment for letting the guy get away. Damned if she wasn’t fit to be tied. Case was a defense attorney that had always needled her the wrong way, and he was the next possible target for the guy we were after.”

“And now they’re married with a baby. It sounds as if...the way you talk about her...you and she...”

Brandon shook his head, his chin lightly bumping against her temple. “No. Nothing like that. We were—
are
—very good friends. She was my partner for over three years. Neither of us had family or many friends outside of work, so even on our days off we were likely to spend time together, but it was—I dunno, sounds corny, but she’s like the sister I never had.”

He sighed and resumed rubbing her back. Isabella snuggled closer.

“I got to know Case’s family in the few months before they were married, before I left to join the DEA. If you count Case, who’s adopted, there are five boys and a girl. They treated me like one of their own.”

Wouldn’t it be wonderful to be taken in by a big, loving family? Isabella wondered if she could find someone to adopt her. What a silly notion. She was almost thirty-two. Too old to be adopted.

“They’re gonna love you, babe.”

He’d whispered the comment against her ear, so she didn’t know if it was the words or his breath rushing over her skin that made her shiver. A bit of both, she supposed. She couldn’t let herself believe that she’d ever meet these people. Once her vacation was done, she’d never see Brandon again. Never be part of his family.

Forcing her throat to work around the tightening of tears, she asked, “Why did you join the DEA?”

“Hmm. I think I asked myself that question each and every day since I signed on.” Brandon wiggled around a bit, getting more comfortable, pulling her closer. He wound his other arm around her so she could use his shoulder as a pillow. “They called me. I was toying with the idea when Sheila dropped the bomb that she was leaving the force and therefore, I needed to get a new partner. That thought was not appealing to me at all. She was the best damn cop I’d ever worked with. Besides, I couldn’t stand the lieutenant. With Sheila gone, I didn’t want to stay. So I took the job.”

“You must not have liked it much, huh?”

He shrugged. “I thought I saw a lot of bad shit when I worked homicide, but the drug world was a whole lot worse. I’m ready for a change. Ready to come home and start a new life.”

She knew all about starting a new life. But hers would be alone. She had Cam’s house to go to, but it wasn’t home. Nothing felt like home to her now. “What will you do for work?”

Brandon chuckled. “Well, I was thinking of starting up a fly-in-fishing guide service, but uh, I’m not sure anyone would want to ‘fly in’ the way I did here.”

They both chuckled at his joke.

His hand smoothed the hair away from her face. “I’ve got some options and a little bit of money in the bank. I don’t have to make up my mind right away.”

“Yeah, that’s how I am, but I can’t stand the not knowing.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve already got an idea what you want to do. I don’t. I haven’t a clue.” She sighed and snuggled closer to him. His big hard body was so warm. So strong. Gentle.

“What’s the one thing that makes you happy?”

You
. She bit her tongue. “That’s the problem. I don’t know.”

“Well, you have plenty of options, too. You just need to figure out what one thing would make you the happiest and give it a shot.”

He made it sound so simple. She’d already spent two weeks racking her brain, trying to figure it out.

Brandon’s lips brushed over her cheek again, then just a whisper of a touch against her lips. Her heart thudded against her ribs, heat rushed to her face and zinged between her thighs.

“Why don’t you roll over, baby.”

Roll over?
She frowned. “Brandon?”

“Hm?”

“Roll over?”

“Yeah, I don’t want to smother you.” He pressed his lips against her forehead.

Confused, Isabella rolled over so her back pressed against his chest, her head on his arm. He pulled her snug against his body and there was no way to miss his long, solid arousal as it pressed against her bottom. She stifled the urge to press against him.

He brushed her hair away from her cheek and then he placed a kiss on that really sensitive spot just under her ear, making her shiver and softly moan. He wrapped his arm around her waist, pulled her a little tighter against his groin, then whispered, “’Night, sweetheart.”

Goodnight?

She turned her head to peer at him. His eyes were closed.

Oh, hell.

~*~*~

Leaning up on his elbow, Brandon watched Bella sleep. Her skin so pale and soft, that smattering of freckles across her nose and high cheekbones. Her lashes, a rich, dark auburn, and her mass of curly, silky-soft hair seemed to glow with fire. One hand near her face, palm up, fingers slightly curled, the other across the dip of her belly beneath her ribs.

He teased her about eating so much, but she desperately needed to put on the weight. Besides, he liked a woman with a healthy appetite.

Sleeping with her all night had been pure torture. She’d wiggled and squirmed against him until he thought he’d explode from the torment. Once she’d finally relaxed, it had taken him even longer to force his body into submission and sleep.

It was late now, almost eleven. The sound of raindrops fell soft and soothing against the tin roof of the cabin. So, they had all day to stay here. In bed. He wondered if he’d made his point. If she realized he wasn’t just after sex.

He’d never lain in bed with a woman and talked the way they had last night. He’d never wanted to that kind of intimacy. There was so much more he wanted to tell her. About his childhood, his mother, Sheila and her family. And then he wanted to introduce her to his mom. And he wanted to marry her. Wanted to help her find whatever it was that would make her happy.

He ran his finger along her jaw, her skin like rose petals. Soft, creamy. She smiled sleepily, and his heart melted even more.

Dear God, let her be mine. I’ll spend the rest of my life taking care of her.

Dipping his head, he kissed her cheek, nuzzled her neck, inhaling deep her scent.

“Flowers,” Bella said with a sigh.

Brandon smiled against her throat. “Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of blueberry pancakes, but if you want flowers, I’m sure I can find some, somewhere.”

Bella laughed, low and throaty from sleep. The sound was pure magic and ignited his lust. “I want to work in a flower shop. That’s what I wanted to do when I was a kid.”

He raised his head and looked down at her. Her eyes were still closed, and a secret little smile curved her lips. “Good. Flowers are good.”

Without opening her eyes, she reached up, laced her fingers through his hair and pulled his face back to her neck. He obliged by lightly suckling her skin. She moaned her enjoyment. The sexy sound sent a shaft of hungry need through him. Uncurling his fingers from her shirt, he forced himself to relax and move slowly.

“This is a nice way to wake up,” she said in that sultry, sleep-raspy voice.

“Mm-hmm,” he agreed as his teeth skimmed the tendon along the side of her neck.

“Ohh, that’s really nice.” Her body turned toward his. She pressed her thighs against him.

Fighting with himself for control, he ran his hand down her back. Told himself he wasn’t a randy teen, that he was old enough to restrain himself. He pulled her body flush with his, and when she moaned and shifted, he pressed his thigh between hers, his erection snug against her hip. He groaned.

“Brandon,” she said on a sigh as her fingers clutched in his hair.

He trailed damp, open-mouthed kisses over her jaw, her cheek, her eyelids. When her lips parted on another soft moan, he captured her mouth with his. She tasted sweet and hot. When her tongue slid over his, he clutched her firm, round bottom, pulling her hard against him, grinding his aching erection against her softness.

He brought his leg higher, pressing intimately against her with his thigh. She jerked her mouth from his, pressing her head back into the fluffy sleeping bag, and moaned. His mouth was on her throat, nipping at her delectable skin as he rocked his thigh against her, reveling in her heat. Her dampness.

“Please,” she begged.

He released her bottom and slid her sweatshirt up. The sight of her perfect round breasts, the puckered dusky nipples, nearly undid him. “Arms up, baby,” he said, his voice so gravelly it was almost unrecognizable as his own.

She raised her arms above her head, and he slipped the shirt off her. “Beautiful,” he murmured as he lowered his mouth between the soft mounds. Cupping the sides of her breasts, he pressed them closer together, turning his head to lay a kiss on the creamy sides of each. Her cool hands trailed over his shoulders, exciting him more. Her breaths came in ragged little puffs.

Pressing himself against her hip, he was hard, ready, in a state of pleasure bordering on pain. He swore to himself he’d bring her to climax first, even if it killed him. He’d never wanted a woman so badly. Never wanted to give a woman so much.

When his thumbs skimmed over her tightly peaked nipples, she cried out and her hands landed back in his hair.

His thigh pressed hard against her heated center. She was so hot, so wet, and it made him wild. “You’re killing me, baby,” he whispered just before he flicked his tongue over one hard nipple. She arched against him and pulled his head toward her. He took her between his lips and suckled until she sobbed, then he moved to the other pebbled nipple.

Slipping his hand down her side, he slid his fingers into the waistband of her panties. He pulled his thigh away and released her nipple. She whimpered. “Just a second, love,” he told her as he slid her panties down her legs. He kissed her belly, dipped his tongue into the slight shadow of her navel, nipped the skin at her hip.

“Brandon, now, please,” she moaned as she tugged at his shoulders.

“Slow down, Bella. We’ve got forever.” If she kept begging, kept making those erotic little sounds, he’d lose it and take her before she was ready. The last thing he wanted to do. Slowly, trying to even out his own breathing, he skimmed the back of his fingers over her downy, damp auburn curls. Her hips rose to meet him, opening her to his view. “God, you’re beautiful.”

Sliding his fingers between her soft, moist folds, he whispered, “Oh baby,” with a smile of satisfaction. She was more than ready to come. He let her pull him up, and as he settled his mouth to hers, he slipped a finger deep inside her.