“When you’re flying, you adjust your stuff to the wind currents, don’t you?”
“Of course.”
“So, take what you do up there and apply it down here. Life on the ground can be the same as it is in the air if you let it.”
She tucked that away to digest. She’d try to wrap her head around the notion. “Okay, I’ll think about it.” She stood on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Good night, then.”
Instead of releasing her, he tightened his arms about her. “Tomorrow?”
“God willing and the creek doesn’t rise, it will arrive.” He brought out a playfulness in her.
“You’ve spent too much time around Merrilee.”
“My third-grade teacher used to say it all the time.”
“Okay, Ms. Smarty-Pants, so assuming tomorrow comes, what do you have going on?”
“I’m working on a couple of wind chimes.”
“Would you like some company?”
Would she? She’d never had anyone else around when she was working on the chimes. She kind of got into a zone, but there was a part of her that wanted to see him again. There was a part of her that knew something this good between them couldn’t sustain itself, so she needed to enjoy every minute of it while it lasted. “I’m used to a certain amount of alone time, but if you wanted to bring your sketch pad that might work.”
“I said company, not conversation.” He grinned. “I don’t talk all the time.”
He actually had a good energy. He was fun, but he wasn’t manic. He could be playful, but he was also peaceful. “Okay.”
“Are you going to feed me breakfast?”
She laughed at his temerity. “You’re pushing it, Sorenson.”
“You don’t make it easy for a man, Miller. We’ll make it a joint venture. How about I bring sausage and jelly and you’re in charge of the eggs, toast and coffee.”
“You’ll have to do the toast, too. I’m out of bread.”
“You drive a hard bargain but okay. Deal. How about ten?”
She liked her Sunday mornings. She always rose early, did a little yoga routine and then spent a couple of hours online scanning the
New York Times
and the
Anchorage Daily News. That
she wasn’t willing to give up. Ten would be cutting it close. “Ten-thirty.”
“You drive a hard bargain.”
“Consider yourself lucky you’re coming.”
“Now,
that
sounds like a promise.”
She was still laughing when he kissed her. The man never ceased to amaze her.
10
J
ULIETTE
LOOKED
AROUND
her house with a different eye now that it was about to be seen by someone else. And it wasn’t as if it was just anyone. It was Sven and she found it a little scary—okay, a lot scary—how much it mattered to her what he thought of her place.
She’d decorated in shades of yellows, blues and whites. Sheers fluttered in the breeze, blowing through the open windows, carrying the wind-chime songs inside. The sun cut a swath of light across the yellow-and-white-gingham sofa. In the corner, a small fan oscillated on low. She didn’t need to cool the room. She simply liked the movement of air.
She’d lived alone since her second divorce. She didn’t entertain. She didn’t invite people over. Merrilee had dropped by a couple of times, but for the most part her space was her own. And now Sven would be a part of her space.
She was nervous. In fact, if she had his phone number she’d call and cancel. Unfortunately, she didn’t, so she was stuck.
She smoothed her hand over the front of her dress. She was
not
wearing this for him. Of course, she wore pants when she flew and most of the time when she was in town, but at home it was always a dress. They were less restrictive than shorts or pants. Even in the winter, she’d crank the heat so she could wear a dress. From the time the temperatures hit above freezing, she was all about going barefoot. She liked the feel of the cool wood floor and the textured pile of the rugs beneath her feet.
The distinct rumble of a diesel engine sounded in the distance. Her heart began to thump against her ribs. Why was she so jumpy? The man had seen her naked. They’d been intimate twice in broad daylight underneath the Alaskan sky. Why was she such a case now?
Because, where she lived, her private space was even more intimate than sharing her body, that’s why.
She busied herself turning on the coffeepot she’d prepped earlier. She liked her coffee strong and dark. Sven was out of luck if he didn’t.
He pulled up outside and slammed his door. Her heart hammering in her chest, she crossed to the front door and opened it and then the porch door as he was climbing the stairs.
Her heart leaped at the sight of him. His hair was a shade darker than normal and she suspected it was still wet from his shower. A T-shirt from an annual salmon derby hugged his shoulders and chest, while worn jeans rode low on his hips. It was the same thing she’d seen a hundred, make that a thousand, other men wear back in North Carolina and here in Alaska, but on him it was flat-out sexy. And now that she knew what treats were underneath those jeans and T—good grief, she was turned on just
looking
at him.
She realized, with a start, that it was the first time she’d ever seen him in anything other than boots. He wore a pair of dark brown leather sandals.
“Good morning,” she said.
“Morning.”
He sounded almost as nervous as she felt, which must have been some auditory misperception on her part because she couldn’t fathom this gorgeous, self-assured man with a case of the jitters.
“Come on in.” She stepped aside and he came into her house.
“These are for you. There were kind of limited choices in the flower department.”
All her angst dissipated. It was a little strange, but there was a rightness about him being here in her den. And the flowers were beautiful. She’d been so busy eyeing him like a hungry cat with a salmon steak that she’d totally missed the flowers in his hand.
“Thank you. I love fireweed. You couldn’t have made a better choice even if you had other options.” She felt as if her insides were smiling at the gesture. She regularly picked a bouquet of wildflowers when they were in season, but it was a different feeling altogether when someone else brought them for you. “Let me put them in water.”
She took them and went into the kitchen to find a vase. Sven followed her, looking around in interest, a bag in his hand.
“Nice place,” he said, nodding. “Bright and sunny. I like your colors.”
It was the part of herself she kept tucked away, shielded from the rest of the world. She basked in his words and the appreciative look on his face.
“Thanks, I like it.” She filled a glass pitcher with water and added the flowers. They were beautiful right there next to the sink.
He placed the bag on the counter and pulled out the items. “Sausage, bread and jelly, ma’am.”
She could barely think, sharing the tight space in the kitchen with him. It was as if he filled all her senses, as if an energy hummed between them, fine-tuning her body.
“So,” she said, “are you starving?”
Because I’m hungry for you right now.
“The coffee is—” she looked over at the pot “—just about ready.”
He locked his laser-blue gaze on her and the look in his eyes relayed a message similar to the one filtering through her brain. “In a minute.” He took a step toward her and she could swear she felt the heat pulsing off him. She licked her suddenly dry lips. “First, I’m going to tell you hello properly.” Another step closer—God, yes—and he bracketed his hands on either side of her, trapping her between the counter and his big body. She liked being trapped…by him. His glance slid down her. “I like the dress.”
She felt tight with anticipation. “Just so you know—”
“Yes?”
“I would’ve worn a dress anyway this morning, even if you weren’t coming over. I like to wear them at home.” She might want him, but she needed him to know she didn’t dress to please him. She dressed to please herself.
“Message received. I still like it.”
Good, they were both pleased. If she’d thought her pulse was jumping before… He slid his hands up her arms, his touch fanning the fire already inside her. He cupped her shoulders in his hands and pulled her to him. She loved the feel of his hardness against her softer curves.
She reveled in the taste and feel of him. He smelled like the sun and wind and he tasted like mint toothpaste.
“Now, that’s a proper good-morning,” he said.
She linked her arms around his neck, definitely wanting more of the same. “How hungry are you?” she said. It was a rhetorical question. The passion in his kiss and the hard ridge of his arousal against her belly had told her all she needed to know. “I’m thinking breakfast can wait.”
“I’m thinking you may be onto something. Do you think we should try a bed this time?”
No. She wanted him right here. Now. “But it’s so far away and—”
“I don’t need convincing.” That was an understatement. His hard-on teased against her. He leaned down farther and canted his head to tease his lips against her neck, just below her ear. His breath gusted across her sensitive flesh as he asked in a low, husky near whisper. “How do you feel about keeping the dress on?”
She was already wet with desire, but his question left her wetter still. “I can’t even tell you how much I like that idea—” she rubbed against him and took his hand in hers, bringing his hand to the hem of her dress “—but there’s one way for you to find out.”
He slid his hand up her thigh to the edge of her panties. She bit her lip, her skin on fire, her breath lodged in her chest. She
ached
for him to touch her. Instead, he teased and taunted with his fingertip, his knuckles brushing against the fabric of her panties until she mewled with need.
Finally, with a soft laugh, he relented and slipped his finger beneath the edge of her undies. He stroked along her labia and her knees threatened to buckle. It was as if a sexual charge had shot through her. He dipped into her wetness. She closed her eyes it felt so intensely delicious to have his finger against her.
“Hmm. You do like the idea.”
She reached between them, cupping her hand over the erection straining against the zipper of his jeans. “You seem pretty enthusiastic yourself.”
He slid a finger into her wet channel and she gasped. “Uh-huh.”
She groaned and dropped her head back. It felt… A second finger joined the first…
“Oh.” Anything more was beyond her. He found her clitoris with his thumb and stroked. All coherent thought vanished. It was simply sensation. The ridge of the counter behind her. His heat. His smell. The press of his fingers inside her. His thumb against her magic spot.
She. Was. Coming. Unraveled.
Wave after wave of her orgasm washed through her, over her.
“That was—”
“Just the beginning.”
She could barely stand. Her legs didn’t want to support her. “You’re kidding.”
“Do I look like I’m kidding?”
His face was taut with desire, his eyes reflecting the same need she’d just had satisfied. “No, actually, you don’t.”
“Put your arms around my neck, honey.”
She did. Honestly, she wasn’t sure that her legs would continue to support her. The next thing she knew, he was picking her up. She didn’t offer even a token protest. She liked this sexually intense, serious side of him.
He moved through the den and easily found her bedroom. Shouldering open the door she’d pulled to, he crossed the room and folded back the comforter, placing her on the rumpled sheets. He gentled a hand over her cheek, his gesture tender. “God, you’re beautiful.”
She was average and ordinary, but when he said it, she believed it. She felt beautiful. His touch and the look in his eyes—she felt cherished, safe. Something she’d never felt with or from anyone before.
She swept her arm along the cotton sheet, not stopping to consider or weigh her words. She spoke from her heart. “Come to my bed, Sven.”
* * *
S
VEN
FIXED
THE
IMAGE
in his head, never wanting to forget this moment—Juliette’s dark hair contrasting against the white sheets, the curve of her beckoning arm, the softness in her eyes, the languor of her legs draped over one another, the delicate arch of her feet.
He was hers, whether she wanted him or not. She had branded herself on his soul, imprinted in his heart. He slid off his sandals and took off his shirt and jeans, dropping them to the floor. He stretched out on the bed beside her, the sheets cool beneath his heated skin. “I will gladly come to your bed, Juliette Miller.”
She kissed him and it was a mix of hunger and passion and something that hadn’t been in her kiss before. There was a giving, a reaching out, an opening up.
Still clad in her white sundress, she moved over him and began to explore him with her hands, her fingertips, her lips and tongue. She licked and kissed down his neck, over his chest, her tongue dragging arousingly over one nipple and then the other. She moved across the plane of his belly, nipping at him, creating the most incredible sensations over his skin.
She tugged his briefs down his hips, looking up his body at him, a question in her eyes. It was as if they were communicating on a level outside of words. He knew what she was asking. He nodded.
“I’m fine. I was checked on my last physical and there hasn’t been anyone since then.”
She didn’t touch him with her hands, but she dragged her warm wet tongue up the length of his shaft and rimmed his head. Done. If she did that one more time it would all be over…and he wasn’t ready for it to end. That wasn’t the way he wanted her this time.
He reached down and dragged her up his body. “I’m going to take you.”
Her eyes glittered with hot desire. “I want you to take me.”
He didn’t have to tell her, she seemed to know. He donned a condom. She rose, pulling her dress up and off. She tossed it aside. Her panties and bra followed. Silently, she turned her back to him.
He moved into place behind her, the need to possess her, to make her his a raging need inside him. He felt a fierceness as primal as the ritual they were about to embark on that all animals had been doing since time immemorial. He leaned forward and kissed her neck and then lightly bit it.
Juliette gasped, her head thrown back, back arched. She bent over, lowering her shoulders to the mattress, thrusting her buttocks back, opening herself to him.
Her sex glistened, beckoning him. Clasping her hips in his hands, he entered her. She rocked back on him, taking him deeper. She met each of his thrusts with her own, plunging back on him. It was hard and fast. An alpha male taking his female. An alpha female, claiming her mate.
She was panting and he could feel her tightening around his cock. As the first cries of her orgasm tore from her throat, he lost the tenuous hold on his self-control and let his own release roll through him. He threw back his head and answered her with his own guttural cry.
As one, still intimately connected, they collapsed onto the mattress. Sven rolled to his side, pulling her with him. His breathing ragged, he lay with his arm wrapped around her, her back pressed to his chest, her legs against his, her buttocks nestled against his groin.
He smiled to himself.
Damn, Alberta.
He was cuddling. And he liked it.
* * *
J
ULIETTE
WINCED
SLIGHTLY
as she reached up for coffee cups in the cupboard, having used muscles yesterday and then again today that hadn’t had a workout in quite some time.