Alaskan Nights (18 page)

She cried out, her hips rising off the mattress to meet his hand. She was wet, wanting, and wild. All for him. He withdrew his finger and slipped in a second as he made love to her mouth with his tongue, teeth, and lips.

She pressed against his hand, raising her hips to him, and he let her set the rhythm. He broke off the kiss so he could see her, to make sure he was giving her all she needed. Her face was flushed, skin glowing, lips slightly parted and swollen from his kisses. Her heartbeat visible at the base of her throat.

“Open your eyes, Bella,” he said in a husky timbre. “Look at me.”

Her eyelashes fluttered open. Those striking green eyes sparkled with sexual heat. As he held her gaze, he flicked his thumb over her clitoris. Her hands tightened on his shoulders, her short little nails digging into his flesh, making him groan.

“My beautiful Bella,” he whispered as he lowered his head to capture a lovely, perfect nipple between his teeth. At the same time, he rubbed his thumb against her and thrust his fingers deep.

“Brandon!” she cried as her hips jerked upward.

“Come for me, baby,” he urged as he took her other breast in his mouth and suckled hard.

She threw her head back and clamped her bottom lip between her teeth. Pressing into her with his fingers, he rubbed against her. Her inner muscles contracted around his fingers, and a lusty moan of his own pulled from his soul.

With a cry that might have been his name, her thighs squeezed his hand as her climax exploded through her. He pleasured her until her hands fell limp from his shoulders and her eyelids drifted closed.

He pulled out of her and pushed his shorts down, kicking them away with impatience. Spreading her thighs wide, he positioned himself over her, bracing himself on his elbows. Damp hair clung to her sweat-slickened neck. “Open your eyes, sweetheart. I need you.”

Dazed, slightly unfocused, she gazed at him and smiled. A sexy smile—one he wanted to see every morning for the rest of his life—turned up her sexy red lips. Her gentle little hands ran lightly up his biceps to his shoulders, up his neck to cup the back of his head. And then she pulled him down to those full, delicious lips.

As his tongue swept into her mouth, he slid deep inside her. She moaned. So did he. He’d never been inside a woman without protection. It was a mind-staggering sensation. So hot. So slick. His Bella was so tight and perfect.

Her arms encircled his neck. She raised her knees and lifted her hips, taking all of him.

“Bella…”

Her tongue went deep into his mouth, retreated, then delved in again. He withdrew himself almost all the way from her heat, and then pressed back into her, hard, thrusting in time with the motion of her tongue. Her inner muscles tightened around him, milked him. Her long, strong legs encircled his waist. Never had anything been so utterly perfect.

Ripping his mouth from hers, he wrapped an arm behind her back, lifted her from the mattress, and caught one nipple in his mouth as he drove into her again.

“Brandon. Oh, God, Brandon!”

Hearing her call his name, knowing it was ecstasy that made her voice hoarse, made him wild. Damn his self-control. She needed this as much as he did. Wrapping his other arm around her, he buried his face against her neck as he began to rock in and out of her in a hard, steady motion that would bring them both to the brink.

A soft sob escaped her. She clung to him with arms and legs. Bit into his shoulder, making him tremble as he struggled to hold back his release, waiting for her. Needing to hear her climax again. As her inner muscles pulled at him, he thought he might go insane.

“Come for me,” she whispered in his ear, returning his own words to him. He gripped her hip and drove deep, pure lust spiking through him. With one final pounding thrust, he shattered. He shouted her name as he let himself soar over the edge to completion. And then she cried out and joined him in ecstasy.

Isabella felt as if the world had stopped turning. Brandon’s body lay on hers, the weight heavy and safe. She’d never experienced anything close to what he’d just done to her.

Holy crap! Twice!
She giggled.

“You find something amusing?” he mumbled against her neck. “I think you killed me.”

Their bodies stuck together with sweat. She didn’t care. She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight. “Wow.”

“Uh-huh. I’ll say.” He rolled to the side, taking her with him, brushing his lips against hers as she grinned. She couldn’t stop grinning. “That was okay for you, then?”

Another giggle slipped out. She couldn’t remember the last time she giggled. Maybe never. “Um, yeah. That was okay.”

Brandon pinched her bottom. She giggled and then wiggled against him, nuzzling her lips against his throat.

“Who’s making breakfast? I’m starved.”

She groaned. “I’m too worn out to eat.”

“What? Are you saying I wore you out?” he asked innocently. “Ow! Hey! No biting!”

“Twice,” she said, still in awe over that fact.

“Uh-huh. But if it hadn’t been so long since I, uh, well, it’s been a hell of a long time.”

“Really? How long?” Isabella asked.

“Never mind. Next time we’ll shoot for three or four.”

She laughed. “Oh, really? Three or four? Is that as good as you can do?”

He squeezed her tight and kissed her hard. “We’ll see.”

A long, peaceful silence fell between them. His fingers skimmed every so lightly over her shoulder, and she sighed in contentment. In over two years of marriage, she could count on her fingers the number of times she’d climaxed. And with Brandon—twice. Within minutes of each other. Nothing had ever felt so incredibly...
perfect
.

An unexpected wave of sadness swept over her so suddenly she felt the tears before she could stem their flow. Damn it. She loved him. No fairy tales, no heartbreak, no regrets. What a load of shit that turned out to be. She wondered if her heart would ever heal.

“Babe?” Brandon asked as he felt her body stiffen.

“I’m all right,” she choked out. She tried pulling away, but he held her tight.

“Talk to me, sweetheart. What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

She shook her head. “No, you were wonderful. Just... just...” She took a deep breath, obviously trying to stop the tears. “Too much adrenaline, I guess.”

Brandon pulled the sleeping bag over them and held Bella, rocking her gently. “Everything’s all right, babe. I promise.” He kissed her forehead, her cheek. He wanted to tell her how much he loved her, but he had the strong feeling that she wasn’t ready to hear it.

“I never cry,” she whispered. Then sniffled. “Never.”

He smiled against her forehead. “Of course you don’t, baby.”

She smacked his shoulder, making him smile. He pulled back so he could see her face—the face he wanted to wake up to every morning for the rest of his life. He kissed her then. Softly. A whisper of lips against lips. A skim of his tongue. “Shut your eyes, sweetheart. Relax for a while. When you’re ready, you can go make breakfast.”

She laughed, exactly the reaction he’d hoped to get.

“Baby Ruth and Milky Way with a side of corn chips and Oreos.”

“Mmmm, my favorite.”

“Brandon?” she said softly.

“Yes?”

“After breakfast...could we...you know...again?”

“Oh, yes.”

~*~*~

“Is that everything?” Brandon asked as he zipped his duffle bag and eyed the surprisingly small pile of their belongings on the porch of the cabin.

“I think so. If you’ll empty the ashes out of the stove and get the propane tanks from beneath the cabin, I’ll sweep the floor.”

Bella turned to go back inside, but Brandon caught her hand and pulled her down on his lap. “Don’t look so sad, sweetheart. We can’t stay out here in our little hideaway forever.”

Bella nuzzled her nose against his throat as she wound her arms around his neck. “I know.”

He looked forward to getting back to civilization. The vacation had been nice. Being with Bella had been like a dream come true. But he was eager to get her home and get started on building their life together. “Think about it, baby. Tonight we’ll have a big cheesy, deep pan pizza and hot bread sticks slathered in garlic butter. Maybe a beer or two. And I bet I can talk Mom into making one of her famous German chocolate cakes for dessert.”

Bella laughed. “And I thought I was the only one who constantly thought about food. Anchovies?”

“Naw, don’t care for anchovies on my cake, but if you—”

She pinched his biceps through his flannel shirt. “Do you like anchovies on your pizza?”

“Um, no. But you can if you want.”

She shook her head. “Hate the things. Cam used to get them. Even when you pick them off, that salty, weird flavor is still there.”

“Mushrooms?” he asked, surprised there were still so many things he didn’t know about his woman. After all the talking they’d done over the past two weeks, he hadn’t realized they’d skipped over the mundane, everyday things like pizza toppings.

“Everything except the anchovies. Oh, and green peppers. They make me burp.”

Brandon held her there on his lap, his arms wrapped around her. His heart felt so full he thought it might burst. “Do you drink beer?” he asked.

“Mmhmm. Nothing better than an icy cold Bud with hot pizza.”

“Wine?”

“Only when I really want something.”

It was his turn to give her a little pinch, and she laughed. “No, not a fan of wine or champagne. Headaches. I like a nice malt whisky now and then. And...”

“And?” he prodded.

“Tequila. Straight. But only the good stuff.”

Brandon laughed and hugged her tight. “I would have never guessed.”

Bella kissed his cheek and pushed herself up. “Come on. Bjorn will be here in less than an hour.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He shoved to his feet. “I’ll get the ashes first, before you sweep.”

Isabella went into the cabin and retrieved the ancient, frayed broom from the pantry. She watched Brandon as he knelt in front of the blackened barrel stove and scooped out ashes with a short fireplace shovel and dumped them into an even older aluminum bucket.

He was so beautiful. His flannel shirt stretched across his wide shoulders and his jeans fit snug, showing off thickly muscled thighs. His mouthwatering butt.

Damn it, she wasn’t going to cry.

The last two weeks had been magical. They’d talked, fished, hiked, and made love. Picked berries, shared the cooking, and made love. And this was her last day with him. Tomorrow morning at six-oh-five a.m. she’d be on a plane heading back to San Francisco.

In the time they’d spent together, he’d talked about their life. A future. Places he wanted to take her, things he wanted to do and see with her. He’d even talked about the kind of house they’d live in. She’d never once told him she wasn’t staying, nor had she committed to anything. She couldn’t stay with him.

Their life was perfect here, in their hideaway. That was what he’d started calling the tiny cabin—their hideaway. Their secret palace of pleasure.

She glanced around the room. It seemed so small all of a sudden. And so empty. The pots and pans had all been cleaned and stacked neatly on the shelves. The empty water jug sat in the little aluminum sink. The table and its one surviving chair. The couch and stove. She’d remember this place always. Even if she didn’t really see it as a palace, it had been the most special time of her life. Never had she been so loved.

But she couldn’t stay with Brandon. He didn’t even realize it, but eventually he’d resent the fact that she couldn’t give him children. With so much love inside of him, he deserved a big family. He’d make a wonderful father. A loving husband to a woman who’d give him everything he needed.

“Thought you were going to sweep,” he said when he returned with the empty ash bucket. “The propane tanks are down by the lake.”

“Thanks.” She sighed and started brushing the broom over the floor. “Why don’t you take all the stuff from the porch down there, too?”

Brandon put his fingers under her chin and kissed her gently. “Stop moping, baby. Remember the pizza.”

She forced a smile, though it must have looked as tragic at it felt. After Brandon went back outside, she continued with her sweeping. She wondered about the woman he would wind up marrying. Tall. Probably blonde and blue eyed, to offset his dark coloring. Their babies would be fair with dark, soulful eyes. With a cute, crooked little smile that would win the hearts of everyone they came into contact with.

He’d start up his guide service. Fishing in the summer, hunting in the fall. She’d probably be a sweet elementary school teacher, or a secretary like his mother. On the weekends they’d go camping. Little League games. Christmas school pageants. Isabella dropped the broom and wrapped her arms around herself. God, it hurt.

The door opened. “Bjorn’s here, Bell—what’s wrong?” He was by her side in an instant, his arms around her. “Are you sick?”