Two Cabins, One Lake: An Alaskan Romance (6 page)

Cool water sprayed across me as he whizzed by, and I swear
to God I heard him laugh.  Then his waves, originating from just a couple feet
away, hit.  They rocked the dock, causing my water bottle to topple and roll off
the edge.  And I couldn’t retrieve it because I was spread-eagled and clinging
to my dock as it bucked like a rodeo bull.

When it finally settled down, and it looked like I wasn’t
going to follow my Nalgene into the drink—but I was still feeling cool rivulets
of water down my back and thighs—I made a resolution.

I was going to kill him.  All right, maybe not kill him. 
Those were strong words for someone with a shotgun not six inches from her
fingertips.  I wouldn’t be using that on him—not yet, anyway.

But I was going to make him pay.  And I’d always been a fan
of tit for tat, someone steals, cut off the hand, that kind of thing.  Just look
at what I’d done to his tools.

So as I climbed to my feet, peeling my drenched beach towel
up after me, I glared across the lake at him and his shiny new jet ski.  He’d
splashed me, and he’d used that infernal machine to do it.  The solution seemed
obvious.

F
or
Gary, the rich devil that lived next door, justice came swiftly.  That evening,
he took a trip in his helicopter, allowing me to set it up.  When he got back,
I waited a few minutes after he walked into his cabin.

Then his jet ski fired up without him.

According to plan, he blundered out his front door, looking
confused.  I don’t know if he’d been changing, or about to lounge or shower,
but he wasn’t wearing a shirt.  The sight of his naked chest again grabbed my
gaze and wouldn’t let it go. 
Gorgeous, gorgeous
, acknowledged
everything feminine in me.

And as my body tightened, my arm tightened, the fishing line
attached to the jet ski’s gas pulled, and the stupid jet ski revved.  How
embarrassing.

He frowned at the possessed machine, and started down the
lawn.

I waited, my smile growing wider and wider as he approached
the dock.  When he stepped up onto it, I yanked.  The line tightened to apply
full gas, and then snapped perfectly according to plan.  Like a racehorse
launching from the starting gate, the watercraft actually gained a little air
before it was flying, unmanned, across the lake.

The Devil ran across the dock with a yell.  But it was too
late.  The jet ski was already halfway across the lake and headed for the
opposite shore at breakneck speed.

Infernal machine, check.

But I wasn’t done.

I rammed into his back at full speed, stiff-arming a
surprised, extremely hot, and befuddled neighbor out over the water.  He was
heavy, so he didn’t stay in the air long.

Splash!!

As I stood there, taking in my handiwork, my shit-eating
grin grew to epic proportions.  Got me wet, check.

As the jet ski thrust itself against the rocks on the
opposite shore, I might have even laughed a little.

Then the Devil surfaced.  He turned around and zeroed in on
me and—did I mention those peepers were a mesmerizing shade of green?—his
confusion only lasted a microsecond.  Once that was over with, I swear those
eyes flashed red.

I squeaked, frozen in place like a deer caught in the high
beams.

Then he ripped his gaze from me and started to wade toward
shore.  His shoulders were tense, his movements jerky, telegraphing his
intentions as if he had a big neon sign over his head that flashed ‘Payback!’.

I was so fucked.

I ran.  That’s right.  I fucking ran.  Fast, too, as fast as
my little feet could carry me.  My heart was thundering, my feet crunching on
the beach as I set a new land record.  And I might have been laughing a
little.  All right, I admit, I was cackling with glee.  That look on his
face
…

I was in such deep shit.  I’d violated the terms of our
little feud, upped the ante.

I’d laid on hands.

I catapulted myself up the steps from the beach because the
very master of the hounds of hell was on my heels.  I was on my own turf now,
less than fifty feet from my front door.  I focused on that door as I pumped my
legs.  It was steel-core, very sturdy and with very good locks.  Surely not
even the Devil himself could breach those deadbolts.

Thirty feet away now.  I flew across my yard, heart leaping
with hope.

I heard him behind me.

Just before he plowed into my back.

“Argh!”  I flailed as we went down, his weight on my legs.

We landed in pretty much the only patch of grass I owned, so
the impact was relatively soft.  I immediately tried to drag myself out from
under him, clawing at the earth as I struggled like a fish on a hook.  His
hands latched onto my shirt, straining the seams as his knee dug into my ankle. 
I imagined it looked rather like that scene from Terminator as he crawled up
me.

I reached out, trying to summon my front door by force of
will alone.  Yeah, it didn’t move. 
Fuck!

He was fully on top of me now, and with a rough yank, he
rolled me over.  I looked up into his eyes, felt the weight and shape of his
body acutely along the length of mine, his wet clothes soaking through mine as
he pinned me. 
Double fuck.

Let it never be said I give up easy.  I fought some more,
shoving at him, trying to get him back far enough to get a foot on his torso. 
I had some strength in my legs, and having scrapped and fought with my
brothers, I knew that with my back to the ground, I could launch him off me,
possibly giving me the time I needed to reach my door.

He slid his hips firmly between my squirming legs, and then
pinned my wrists next to my head.  If I’d been a little more calm, I might have
noticed that the way he subdued me was truly masterful.  In this position, I
could kick to my heart’s content and not make contact.  And I couldn’t move my
arms even a fraction of an inch.  His grip was that solid.

His face was just inches above mine.  My chest heaved,
pressing my breasts against his firm chest.  His…something deliciously hard…was
pressing squarely against my clit.

I think we both realized our situation at the exact same
moment.  A moment which came simultaneously with my stupid betrayer of a body
tilting its hips up against him.  I couldn’t help it.  He had fought me to the
ground, and I was suddenly hot, and wet, and I wanted him.

I hated him, but I wanted him.  I stared up at him, panting,
trying to get
that
figured out in my head.

He returned my look—he appeared confused, too—but he ground
his pelvis against mine in a way that made my neck arch, and my breath expel on
a moan.  Heat flared between us, spreading from everywhere we touched.  My
pussy felt like it was on fire, and not in some terrible STD-ish way.  No, this
was in a
the-Devil’s-hard-cock-pressed-against-me-through-my-pants-and-I-never-wanted-anything-more
kind of way.  Go figure.

He ground against me again, and that look on his face said
he wanted me too, despite what I’d done to his jet ski.  I lifted my knees along
his sides, maneuvering that bulge down into the dent of my hungry pussy.

Oh yes.
  My hands clenched, nails digging into my
palms as I writhed under him.  And he was moving against me, that tight heat
rubbing into me harder and harder.

I could barely think, certainly not enough to acknowledge
that we were dry-humping on my lawn.  And suddenly he was missing from my field
of vision.  He tugged at my pants, the nicest-looking pair of sweats that I
owned.  I was so stunned, I just lay there as he started to drag them down.

Wait.  What underwear was I wearing?  Was it my period
panties? 
It might have been my period panties.  Not that I had any other
kind…

Apparently he didn’t care, because he just ripped them the
fuck off me.  I suddenly had grass against my ass, but then he was back over
me, and he must have dealt with his own pants at some point, at least to get
them open.  The incredibly hot, hard length of his shaft pressed directly
against my throbbing clit.  He dragged my thigh up along his side as he ground
against me.

Then he shoved my shirt up, and suddenly his mouth was on my
breast.  I lost my breath on another telling cry.  He’d discovered my kryptonite,
zeroed in on it like some evil supervillain.  His mouth was the Devil’s work. 
It was on my nipple, on the soft flesh around it, sucking in decadent amounts
of my breast on each hard draw.

He wasn’t sweet, and he wasn’t gentle.  He was punishing me
with his mouth, scraping me with his teeth, sucking like my previous lovers had
never dared.

I’d never been wetter.  I ground up against him, making
helpless noises of pleasure.  I tried to bite my lips, tried not to let him
know I was enjoying it, but it was futile.  I don’t remember putting my hands
in his hair, but they were there, tangled in that wet black silk, holding him
to me as I shook and burned.

‘Heat’…this was nothing so tepid.  This was spontaneous
combustion, fire and massive pressure like in a diesel engine.  He was revving
me faster and faster with nothing to govern my response.  I tightened up like a
spring as the stinging draw of his mouth pulled something deep in my belly.

And,
Oh god,
it was happening.  I could feel it
overtaking me, like icy fire spreading outward from my pelvis.  On my
damn—front lawn—with just—his mouth—on my—breast—my neighbor—my
evil—neighbor—was making me—
God, the pressure
—cum!

I writhed and bucked, yanked at his hair, and made enough
noise to wake the dead.  I was pretty sure there wouldn’t be a game animal
within ten miles of this location for
weeks
.  There was no way he missed
that he’d just given me a screaming orgasm, and it was obvious by the
growl-like noise that vibrated against me, and the throb of his bare cock
against my sopping cleft, that he enjoyed it.

Then another couple things happened simultaneously.  I hit
that post-orgasm slump, that I-got-what-I-wanted moment of indifference where I
could take or leave the incredibly hot, hard male body on top of me.  Even one
this good-looking; I was just like, ‘meh’.

That was the same moment I felt his cock against me, not the
shaft, but the big, broad, silky head.  And it wasn’t pressing against my
clit.  Oh no, it was pressing between my sodden pussy lips, looking for full-on
admission.

But I wasn’t a theater.  And this was my
neighbor
.  Who,
I had to admit, was damn sexy and apparently mucho-talented in the sack.  Er,
grass.

But whom I
hated
.

I panicked.  “Wait!  I’m not on birth control!”  Hey, it was
true.  There are some things you really don’t need when you’re at least six
months and several miles from the nearest sperm that could attack your precious
egg.

He paused, staring down at me with some strong cocktail of
emotion making itself evident on his face.  Lust, confusion, anger, focus,
frustration.  It was all there, and for one insane moment, I wanted to kiss the
disbelieving part of his reddened lips.  But the urge was nuts, and luckily, it
passed.

I pushed at his shoulders, taking advantage of his
preoccupation to shove him off me—
hope he stubs his cock
—and scramble
out from under him.  I left my pants, my torn panties, and probably the shreds
of my pride back there on the ground with him.  And for the second time that
day, I ran away.

Chapt
er Five

“Y
oo-hoo!”

I groaned and tightened my arm around my body pillow.  I was
sleeping in, dammit.  It was my last day off before my brothers arrived, and I
wanted it, I needed it…  A good orgasm really took it out of a gal.

My half-open eyes detected a shadow moving high on my wall,
and I sat up abruptly.  Wait, had that voice from a few seconds ago been
real
? 
And had it come from…
inside
?

I heard someone whistling and the unmistakable sizzle of
eggs in a frying pan.

What.  The fuck? 
I thought furiously.  Could it be
my brothers?  But they weren’t due for another five days.  And it didn’t sound
like my brothers.

My breathing and heartrate accelerated.

Yanking on the pants I’d left in a puddle next to the bed, and
pulling the .45 from my nightstand drawer, I crept forward and peered over the
bannister from the loft.  Black hair that ate the light.  Broad shoulders. 
Strong, tanned forearms and hands.

I watched with fascination as he made the egg flip without
use of a spatula.

He looked up and caught sight of me.  “
There
you
are,” he drawled.

“What.  Are you doing.  In my
cabin
?”

He blinked—a slow, innocent, infuriating motion.  It wasn’t
convincing, not nearly so on that devilishly handsome face.  “Just making you
breakfast,” he said, indicating the eggs and bacon he’d just arranged on a
plate.  “Don’t you think we should talk about what happened yesterday?”

Was he dense?  Was he a stalker?  Both?  I thought I’d
locked the door.  How the hell had he gotten in?  What made him think he had
the
right
?!  Just because we’d almost bumped uglies on my pitiful lawn…

I tossed the .45 on my bed, relatively certain I wasn’t going
to need it.  Then I scrambled down the ladder, ready to yell some sense into
him.  Then I turned around, and—

And…

There he was.

I was stunned to momentary speechlessness as I stared across
the bare few feet that separated us.  He was… he was...

Stunning.  I’d seen him in the dark beside my lake, I’d seen
him from a distance, even twice without his shirt.  But a few feet away, in the
natural light coming through the windows, occupying my space—he was like a
punch to the gut.  And he was just standing there, looking at home with his
feet bare and a glass of water in his hand.

He was gorgeous.  Life was so unfair.

“Like what you see?” he drawled.

“No,” I croaked automatically, defensively.  I still had my
morning voice, and—it was like he sucked all the air out of the room. 
Seriously.

His eyes narrowed on me in a way I found extremely ominous. 
“I don’t believe you,” he said.  Then he started to move forward.

Just like that, we picked up where we’d left off when he’d
borrowed my dog—who was lazing in front of the couch, having completely failed
her guard dog duties, the traitor.

But this time, he was trespassing, and encroaching on my
personal space.  My pussy clenched—and my eyes flicked to the shotgun leaning
next to my front door.  It was there, about a dozen feet away.  I didn’t think
he’d try anything, but if he did, I’d have to get around him to get my
boomstick.  If he did, I’d fight dirty, and then I’d make thunder.

Resolved to put a slug-sized hole through him if need be, I
glared as he came closer.  My back hit the wall before I even realized I’d
moved. 
Shit
.  It was never good to show fear.

I lifted my chin, trying to remedy my blunder.  “I want you
to get out of my cabin.  Now.”  A good almost-fucking didn’t give him the right
to invade my space.

“I will,” he murmured, looming over me, “when you admit you
want me.”

I pressed back against the wall, shocked into laughter. 
“Admit I want you?  On what planet—?”

I didn’t get to finish my sentence, because he reached out, and
trailed his knuckles lightly down my cheek.  And I didn’t flinch away.  No, I
actually leaned into the caress and made the first—quickly abbreviated by me—part
of a moan.  I was mortified. 
Was I so sex-starved that—?

I didn’t get to finish that
thought
, because he
crowded up against me.  There was barely an inch of room between us, and my
nipples strained toward his chest.  He was so
warm—
and so frickin’ tall,
and he smelled so frickin’ good, and…  I closed my eyes briefly, overwhelmed by
the sheer enormity of his physical presence. 
I’ve been in the woods too
long.

“I know you do,” he said, his voice dropping low, into this
la-la land of heated sighs and soaked panties.  His hand braced against the
wall next to my head as he leaned even closer.  “Just tell me,” he breathed
against my lips.  “Tell me you want me.”

I tried to look up at him mutinously, but shivered instead. 
Had I woken up in one of my stories?  His eyes took up the whole of my vision,
and the morning light turned them into glowing chips of sea-green.  He smelled
like clean, crisp man.

And the gentle waft of his breath against me, the knowledge
that his lips were only inches away from mine, was turning my legs to pudding. 
Was I really so desperate?

My mouth opened.  I was going to yell at him, but no sound
came out.

He moved that last inch that separated us, letting the
aching points of my sensitive nipples press into his chest.  His nose brushed
against mine.

My chin tilted up.  I couldn’t help myself.  I wanted those
shapely lips.  I wanted to kiss him for breakfast.

“Say it,” he whispered.

I need to masturbate more.

To my shame, rather than telling him off, rather than
calling him all the dirty names that were right on the tip of my tongue—all I
made was a needy little noise.  My fingers curled in his shirt, trying to pull
him closer.  I felt the bulge of his cock straining against my lower belly and
I tilted my pelvis, pressing more firmly against it.  I pushed up on tiptoes,
straining toward his lips, needing him.

His lips were right…there…

And then, I felt a trickle.  But it wasn’t between my
thighs.  It was on the top of my head, and it was cool, and more and more,
until water was running down my startled face and wetting my shoulders and the
front of my shirt, making my nipples harden to diamond points.

I stared up at him in shock, seeing him move the now-empty
glass away from me in my periphery.  He smiled that awful, sexy Devil’s smile. 
The bastard even had
dimples
.

“I got you wet,” he said, looking down at the way my wet
T-shirt stuck to the upper slopes of my breasts.

I could dump his body in the river.  I could do it.

He laughed.  Then he pushed away from me, set the glass on
my table, and collected his shoes from beside my partly-open sliding deck door—
that’s
how he got in!  His gaze drifted to the side and he shot me a sly glance over
his shoulder.

I stood there, chest heaving with equal parts shock,
arousal, and fury, as I watched him cross the floor in front of me, throw back
the deadbolt, and let himself out of my cabin the traditional way.

I cast about, looking for the subject of that sly glance. 
What
had he done, what had he done?
  Then I saw it.  My laptop, centered in
front of my big picture window, lay open.  I never left it open.

The bastard had been reading my book.  And it was open to a
sex scene.