Polar Bared (12 page)

“And you’re choosing me?” An incredulous note crept into his reply.

“I know it’s crazy. I barely know you, and we’re such opposites, but…” She trailed off, suddenly hesitant about revealing so much to him.

“But?” he queried softly.

She let out a soft sigh. “When I’m around you, you make me feel alive. And safe. You make me want…” She swallowed. “You.”

I want you.

The words almost brought a roar to his lips. How dare she do that to him? Seduce him first with her presence, then her admitted innocence, and, now, with her blatant desire.

He could tell she didn’t lie. He could smell her arousal. Feel her need. A need reciprocated.

Perhaps had they shared this conversation in daylight and several feet apart instead of cocooned together in the darkness, the space so intimate, so private, he might have stood a chance. Perhaps, he could have fought her allure.

Doubtful.

Even his bear thought he was fooling himself. From the first moment he’d met Vicky, he’d fought his attraction to her. To hear her disparage herself, to know she didn’t see her outer beauty, which matched an inner goodness, made him want to shake her. And kiss her. And worship every inch of her until she grasped just how lovely and tempting she truly was.

But he held back. He was so wrong for her. A goodness like hers should never bear his taint. Yet, what could he do when she practically begged him? When she so sweetly asked him to make her feel alive, to satisfy her needs?

Right here, right now, with only the two of them, he was just a man and she a woman. Both needing the same thing. Both wanting each other.

A man only had so much restraint.

And she crushed it.

The soft press of her lips against his, hesitant and unsure, cemented his fate.

Right or wrong, he had to give her something and, in return, perhaps keep a little something for himself, capture a little of her innocence to remind him the world wasn’t all bad.

He cupped her head, the silky strands of her hair soft against his calloused palm. Her lips parted as he nibbled on her lower one, her sweet, soft gasp captured by his mouth. He breathed her in. Tasted her. Melded with her, his entire focus on pleasing this lovely creature who refused to run away.

While at first cautious in her actions, under his persistent caresses, she grew pliant then, hesitantly, demanding. Her hands reached to grip his shoulders, and she squirmed against him, her lower body aroused and seeking what it instinctively knew he could give.

His free hand cradled her close to him, palming her lush buttocks, the fabric of her trousers layered over long johns not able to hide her sweet curves. The tight confines of the sleeping bag made it impossible for him to truly strip and cover her body with his own as he longed to.

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t touch. Besides, the almost forbidden aspect of gliding his hand under her garments, feeling his way instead of seeing, added an erotic element. Her breath caught as his hand caressed the smooth skin of her lower back. He could have groaned at the way she trembled when his hand skimmed to the front, gliding upward along her rib cage until he reached the swell of her breast.

Given their rapid flight and how she’d just piled clothes atop her long johns, she’d not had a chance to fetter them in a bra. Bonus for him.

With nothing in his way, he cupped the full globe, more than a handful and, judging by the thumb that brushed over the peak, possessed of fat nipples.

He growled, wishing they were in a real bed where he could strip her and latch onto it. Nibble and suck. But he couldn’t, which in itself was a form of erotic torture that only served to enflame him.

Lucky for him, she quite enjoyed his stroke and pinch of her nipple. She shivered and mewled, her lips hot and panting as they remained locked in a sensual embrace that involved a lot of tongue.

His Pima learned quickly, her first hesitant forays against his tongue now sensual thrusts that he fully savored.

When he was done teasing her taut nipples, he let his hand travel again, down and down some more, until he reached the waistband of her bottoms.

He stopped, and she tensed, breath held. Teasingly, he didn’t immediately penetrate the fabric but instead stroked over it, cupping her mound and sensing her heat, imagining the moisture pooling.

It was enough to make him drool. Once again, he wished them anywhere but here because he would have dearly loved to rip the garments from her lower half and bury his face between her thighs, lapping the sweet honey he knew he’d find there.

He pressed hard against the seam of her pants, right against her sex.

She gasped his name. “Gene.”

Had anyone ever said his name with such softness and longing?

It made him more determined than ever to bring her pleasure. To have her say his name again, but this time when she came.

I want her to scream my name. Mine.

Impatient now, a man with a mission, he invaded the pants that dared stand between him and his treasure. He raked his fingers through the curls covering her mound, kept going until he hit moisture. Hot. Silky. Wet.

Holy fuck. She was more than ready for him. Just a gentle glide of his finger across her damp nether lips had her shaking against him.

Her cries came more rapidly, more frantic as he simply rubbed back and forth, wetting his fingers before dipping into her oh-so-tight and ready channel.

Her body went rigid. Surely she wasn’t— She was. A mini orgasm had her sex clenching tight, and Gene’s cock could have burst it was so ready to join her.

But he wanted more than just a small pleasure for her. He wanted her screaming so he kept dipping his finger in and out, adding a second finger to stretch her. It was when he added the stroke to her clit, her swollen bud slick with her juices, that finally his passionate Pima unleashed.

“Gene.” She moaned his name as she clutched at him. “Gene. Gene. Gene.” She chanted his name in time to the thrust of his fingers and stroke of her clit.

Faster he stroked. Deeper. Harder. His hips arched in time to the cadence, desperately wishing it was his cock buried to the hilt in her moist sex.

He began to murmur to her, something he’d never done before but, in this place and time, seemed right. “Come for me, Vicky. Let yourself go and cream me. Scream for me. Let me feel and hear your pleasure.”

“Oh god,” she mumbled just before her body tensed. “Oh god…Gene!”

There it was, the glory-filled moment he’d worked for. The cry that was both his name and a praise as she climaxed. And climaxed hard.

The muscles of her sex gripped his fingers so tight he feared moving them. But he did enjoy the ripple of her climax enough that he almost came himself.

Holding her close, his kiss softening to simple brushes across her swollen lips, he cradled her close, a moment so foreign and intimate. Yet right.

Oh fuck, how could it feel so right? So perfect? He still throbbed with need. His cock ached to come, and yet, he’d never felt so satisfied in his life.

How is that possible?
And why did a part of him never want the moment to end?

This couldn’t last. Not just the moment but his time with her. Once he got her to safety, they would have to part ways. Their future paths didn’t lie together.

He had vengeance to plot, and she…she deserved better than him.

The bear within chuffed in pride as his timid little Pima fell asleep against him. Trusting him.
Me!
The worst predator around. The vilest enemy a person could ask for. The biggest fucking teddy bear where she was concerned.

Sigh.

So much for his reputation as a badass. But only if people found out. And he could always kill anyone who mocked him. That would shut them up.

“Get your ass moving, Pima. The sun has risen, and it’s time we made some tracks.”

Stretching in the sleeping bag, alone because Gene had somehow managed to exit it without waking her, she didn’t immediately reply. She couldn’t because memories of the previous night rushed in to greet her.

Oh my god, I can’t believe we made out like that.
More than made out. Gene made her climax and, boy, did that pleasure eclipse her previous experiences with Rick. To think, Gene did it with only kisses and his hand, which in retrospect embarrassed her.

How sad that it took so little to bring her to orgasm. He must think her so pathetic and unappreciative. Here he’d given her fantastic pleasure, and what had she done for him in return? Fallen asleep.

Some thank you.

Worse than that, though, how to face him? There was no pure darkness to shield her. No pretending the previous night didn’t happen. How would he treat her? How should she act?

A vivid streak of dawning sunlight hit her as he unpinned the tarp and whipped it back. She squinted her eyes shut with a squeaked, “Ack! Bright light.”

“Yes, my sleeping vampire. Bright light, as in daylight, as in get moving. We’ve got lots of ground to cover.”

So much for the soft lover she’d met the night before. Welcome back, grumpy bear.

With those words, he turned and tromped away while she struggled to emerge from the sleeping bag and slip on her coat and boots without getting all snowy. Well, at least she didn’t have to worry about how to act.

Gene seemed back to his usual ornery self. The gentle side she’d met in the darkness had washed away with the daylight. It almost made her wonder if she’d imagined it, yet, her sticky thighs and the still-swollen plumpness of her lower parts all pointed to it having happened.

Dressed, she folded the sleeping bag as Gene puttered around filling the snowmobile gas tank from the spare jerry can strapped to the back of the sledge.

Lucky for them, none of the flying bullets the night before had struck it. She couldn’t imagine having to walk. Everywhere she looked, she could see only miles and miles of unrelieved icy, white wasteland.

Out of the blue she asked, “Why did you choose to live here?”

At first she thought he wouldn’t reply. “It’s quiet.”

“But don’t you get lonely?” Even Vicky, who couldn’t boast many friends, another thing Rick discouraged, found it a little too barren for her taste.

“I have no need of friends.”

That wasn’t what she’d asked. She frowned and persisted. “Why not?”

“Because.”

“But—”

He turned with a snarled, “What is this? Twenty fucking questions?”

Taken aback, she recoiled. “I’m sorry, I was just curious about you.”

“Curious?” He barked a disparaging sound. “Fine. You want to know why I choose to live out here, on my fucking own? I’ll tell you why. Because I’m an asshole. Because I hate people. You can’t trust anyone. Not even your so-called friends.”

Who had hurt Gene to make him feel so vehemently? She found herself saying, “I wouldn’t betray you.”

He sneered. “Words. Meaningless words. I’ve heard those before. You say you wouldn’t betray me now, but when it becomes a life or death situation, you’ll think differently. Just like my good ol’ pals, you’ll walk away and not look back.”

“That seems a little harsh.”

“Welcome to my world, Pima.”

His expression and mini rant should have clamped her lips tight. She knew, were this Rick, she would have never dared. But Gene, while loud and volatile, wouldn’t hurt her for asking questions. Of this she was certain. Or was about to find out. “If you hate everyone so much, then why are you helping me?”

“I’ve been asking myself that very same question.”

So much for a sudden romantic declaration. While Vicky hadn’t truly expected him to admit undying love at first sight, she’d expected something a little more and couldn’t help disappointment. “I will pay you back.”

He whirled on her with eyes blazing. “I’m not doing this for fucking money.”

“Then why are you?”

He turned away to fiddle with the snowmobile and didn’t answer.

But she wanted to know. “Why are you helping me?”
Say it’s because you care.
How she wanted to hear him admit it.

“Why? I’d say that’s obvious. Because if I don’t, you’ll die.”

“And yet, according to you, you don’t care about anybody, so why do you care if someone kills me?” A rare determination saw her accusing him, her hurt over his seemingly casual dismissal of the intimacy they shared fueling her courage. That and an implicit belief that, no matter what she said, he wouldn’t retaliate. Not with fists at any rate, but funny how words could hurt more.

“I don’t know why!” he roared, finally facing her, his face twisted and angry, yet at the same time anguished as if he fought an inner war. “You’re weak. And innocent. And everything I’m not. I should leave you to your fate. Yet for some damnable reason, I can’t walk the fuck away. If I could, I would. I have better things to do than protect your fainting little ass.”

For some reason she couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Like?”

“I don’t know. Plotting vengeance. Seal hunting. Getting drunk. Or laid.”

She recoiled at his last rebuke. “I’m sorry about last night. I guess I was selfish.”

He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Fuck. That’s not what I meant. Last night was a mistake, but not because of anything you did. Trust me when I say you did everything right. The problem was, I should have never let things go that far. Now you’re expecting things from me. Things I can’t give you.”

Funny because she didn’t recall making any demands. “Like what?”

“I’m not talking about this, Pima. What happened last night was a momentary lapse of sanity. You needed comfort, I gave it to you.”

If he called that comfort…

“It won’t happen again.”

She couldn’t help but say, “Ever?”

“Ever.” And with that final declaration, he cranked the snowmobile, the rumble of the motor filling in the void between them. “Get in the sled.”

“And if I refuse?”

He eyed her, and she bit her lip.
I think I’ve pushed him enough.
Courage to question was all well and good, but her newfound courage where he was concerned didn’t give her the right to badger him. Gene obviously had some deep-seated issues, especially when it came to trusting, and commitment.