Under Alaskan Skies (17 page)

“Did you get through to the ship?” she asked.

“Yes, they’ll be going home tomorrow.”

“You’ve missed most of the cruise.”

“Yep.”

She studied his face, no doubt surprised at his casual tone.

“I don’t think they really missed me all that much,” he said, realizing it was not just wishful thinking, it was true. He would have been a drag while they went shopping or postcard writing. “They
wondered how and when I’m getting back. I said I didn’t know.”

“As to how,” she said, setting her fork down. “I can fly you wherever you want, to Juneau or Fairbanks. You could catch a flight back to San Francisco. But when, I don’t know. It all depends…”

“On the weather. Yes, I told them that. We have no control over the weather.”

“I don’t mind the rain,” she said. “But thunder and lightning are another matter. I turned on the radio while you were on the phone. The weather report is for a big storm tonight.” She looked out the window and shivered despite the warmth of the stove.

He gave her a quick look and saw her bite her lip. She’d hardly touched her food. “You’re not really afraid of thunderstorms, are you?” he asked. “You’ve faced bears and flown through wind and rain and… I can only imagine what else up here.”

“I know, I know, but…” She didn’t finish her sentence.

“We hardly ever get this kind of electrical storm in California. Let’s go in the living room and watch it out of your picture window.”

“Uh…you go. I’ll clear the table and do the dishes.”

“And have you miss out on the pyrotechnics? No way. We’ll do the dishes together.”

She nodded, but she didn’t look happy about it. She washed and he dried. A dish slipped out of her hands and crashed to the floor where it broke into a dozen pieces.

“Damn,” she said softly. She stood and watched while he bent down, picked up the pieces and tossed
them in the trash. Then she accidentally sprayed rinse water from the faucet onto her sweater. He took his towel and blotted the water off the swell of her breast. She drew in a quick breath and steadied herself with a hand on the rim of the sink. She looked at him with heavy-lidded eyes. She licked her lips and opened her mouth to say something but nothing came out. She might have been going to protest. He hoped not.

He wanted to trail his hand over her damp sweater, and draw circles around the outline of her breasts. He wanted to do more than make her gasp. He wanted to make her moan and cry out and give in to the pressure that was building and heading toward a climax that he knew was just as inevitable as the storm was. But he didn’t do anything else except to dry dishes and exchange long, lingering glances with her when she handed him a wet glass or dish.

He was glad he wasn’t the only one affected by the tension that was building between them. It was in the air and he knew she must feel it, too. His whole body was throbbing with the need to make love to her. But not unless she wanted it. Not only wanted it, needed it as much as he did….

Finally looks weren’t enough. He brushed her arm with his hand when he took a plate from the sink. When she turned to face him, he reached out and touched her cheek with his finger. She held perfectly still, her gaze locked with his for a long moment before she turned back to the sink. He was waiting, as patiently as he could, looking for an opportunity to hold her in his arms, to kiss her in that tender spot behind her ear or to slide his hands under her sweater.
He was trying to be patient, to look for that sign he’d been waiting for.

When she’d finished washing the last dish, she took the towel out of his hands. “I don’t really want to watch the storm come in,” she said. “I want to bury my head under a pillow and try to pretend it isn’t there.”

“How about burying your head on my shoulder?” he suggested, pulling her against him. “Come on.” He put his arm around her and gently dragged her into the living room to the couch. Outside the window, the lightning lit up the sky. It was a spectacular sight. She gasped and really did bury her face against his shoulder. He held her tight.

“I can’t believe this,” he said. “This is better than Fourth of July. Front-row seats for a spectacular show. I’ve never seen anything like this. Are you sure you don’t want to have a look?”

“Positive.” Her voice was muffled against his shirt. “I hate these storms. I think I’ll go up to bed.”

“And leave me here alone? You can’t do that. I might get scared, too.”

He could feel her lips curve against his arm. Despite her fears, he’d finally coaxed a smile out of her. He kissed the top of her head and buried his face in her hair. The scent of flowers filled his senses. She snuggled closer to him. With every roll of thunder he held her tighter. He angled his face to kiss her. She put her arms around his neck and kissed him back. Her eyes were shut tight. She trembled in his arms. Was that because of the storm or the kiss?

He didn’t want to take advantage of her fears. He was trying to make her forget them. That was why he
pulled her into his lap and nibbled at her lips, coaxing her to return his kisses. To distract her. He thought it was working. The louder the thunder, the brighter the lightning, the harder he tried to make her forget the storm. He wanted her to forget everything but him.

There was a giant flash of lightning that seemed to be right outside the house. The thunder followed in seconds with a giant crash. The lights went out. She shuddered and looked up at him with wide, terrified eyes. Her pale face was illuminated by the flashes outside. He got up from the couch with her in his arms, shifting her weight so she was pressed against him.

“Okay, that’s it,” he murmured, his lips pressed against her ear. “I see your point. It’s time to hide under the covers.” She could hide from the storm, but not from him. He’d spent two restless, frustrating nights under her roof, thinking about her, fantasizing about her and he didn’t intend to spend another. He’d seen her naked body and he’d kept his distance, well, pretty much. He knew she wanted him. He could see it in her eyes, feel it when he touched her. But if she didn’t want him tonight, he’d give her a chance to say so. Just so she knew it was now or never. Otherwise…

She didn’t speak. She clung to him, one arm around him as tight as a vise, the other hand holding handfuls of his shirt in her fist. He carried her up the stairs two at a time, his heart beating double time, and stepped into her bedroom. For all the noise and the fireworks outside, there was still no rain hitting her windows. Not yet. Her room smelled of fresh air and the perfume that would always remind him of her. He set
her on the edge of her bed. She leaned back and looked up at him, her eyes wide and unfocused.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he warned, “unless…”

“Unless what?”

Carrie was scared. Scared of the thunder, scared of the lightning. But more scared that he would leave her. She didn’t want to be alone tonight. Not even under the covers. She wanted to be with Matt. It wasn’t only the storm, it was more than that. How much more she didn’t want to think about. This was not the time to think. It was the time to act.

She held out her arms. “Don’t go,” she said. “Stay here with me.”

“Do you know what you’re saying?” he asked. His eyes glowed. The desire she saw there was as hot as the lightning outside. She didn’t want to talk about it anymore. She didn’t want to discuss their impossible situation or whether this was right or wrong. She didn’t want to argue the fact that they had no future together. That was a given.

She didn’t care anymore. She didn’t care that he would eventually marry someone suitable and she would never marry anyone at all. All the more reason to have one night to remember. She longed for him. She ached for him. He knew it. She was no good at hiding her feelings. She’d had no training. He was giving her one last chance to say no.

A huge flash lit the sky, and the boom that accompanied it set her heart racing. Something cracked like a gunshot then there was a sickening crash outside the house.

“That was too close,” she said. Her lips were so
stiff they felt as if they were frozen. She ran to the window. The tree that had been in front of the house since her dad had built the place, was split in two and was lying on the ground. She gave a shudder that went through her whole body. Nothing was permanent. Everything was subject to nature. If she hadn’t learned that by now, she’d better do it soon. She turned her back on the tree and the storm and went to the bed. He’d asked her a question. The words still hung in the air. More important than a fallen tree. More urgent than a power failure.

Did she know what she was saying?

“Yes,” she said. She knew. The tree that had been struck by lightning was instantly forgotten. Her doubts and fears were gone. “Yes, yes, yes.” She yanked at her sweater, but he was there before she could get it off, his warm hands tugging and pulling until he’d tossed it aside. Then he unhooked her white lace bra with such care and tenderness, it brought tears to her eyes. The bra had been at the bottom of her drawer until today, waiting…just as she’d been waiting, for someone to take it off and toss it aside. Why had she worn it? Who had she thought would see it? Today of all days. Pointless questions.

She wriggled out of her pants, and then all that was left was her white cotton bikinis. How ridiculous to worry about the last shred of clothes when he’d seen her without a stitch on. She’d seen him, too, and now she wanted to see him again. She wanted to touch the hard planes of his body. Her fingers itched to run them over his taut belly. She wanted to trail her lips from his mouth all the way down to his feet. To taste every inch of him. Just once. Then she could let him
go. Then she’d at least have the memories. And no regrets.

First he had to take off those clothes. He stood and unbuttoned his shirt, then unzipped his pants. He wasn’t wearing any underwear. He stood outlined against the window. Lightning flashed, and his beautiful body turned silver. She was suddenly more scared than she’d ever been. Scared he’d be disappointed. Scared she wouldn’t know what to do. Scared he’d find her wanting.

She lay there and looked at him, her skin covered with goose bumps. She wanted him so badly. She wanted his arms around her, wanted him to end the suspense, to break the tension, to do what she’d been thinking about since the first time she’d seen him. If he was disappointed, if he was let down, so be it. It was too late to change her mind now. She thought she’d be embarrassed to see him fully aroused, leaving no doubt about what was going to happen, but she wasn’t. She’d been waiting for this moment and now it was here. It was way too late for second thoughts.

He crossed the room, braced one knee on the edge of her bed, and looked down at her with hooded eyes. “Do you know how much I want you, Carrie? How much I’ve wanted you since I first saw you land your plane next to the ship and I saw you with your hair the color of autumn leaves and your jumpsuit that couldn’t conceal your gorgeous body? Do you know how hard it is to sleep downstairs when I know you’re up here lying in your bed?”

She hoped he didn’t expect her to answer those questions because she couldn’t speak. Her throat was
clogged with emotion. Her eyes filled with helpless tears and she reached for his face and brought it down to hers. She kissed him on the mouth, and his tongue found hers and mated with it just as surely as they were going to mate tonight. She felt her whole body tremble as his tongue found the recesses of her mouth to explore and excite and tantalize.

At last. She wrapped her arms around him, and he crushed her breasts against his chest. She loved the feel of his body, heavy and hot, soothing, caressing, warming her, making her almost forget the storm outside. Just knowing how much he wanted her made her feel reckless, sexy, wanton.

She knew the storm hadn’t stopped. She was vaguely aware of the booming thunder and the brilliant lightning, but they were only a backdrop to the drama inside her room. He loosened his tight hold on her and gently rolled her over on her side and looked into her eyes. Suddenly lightning lit the room again, and for a second she could see the passion in his gaze. She didn’t know what he saw on her face, but he gave a small smile of satisfaction. Did he know, did it show that there was an ache deep in that secret place in her body that wouldn’t be satisfied until he’d made love to her—totally, completely? Did he know how the pressure was building, higher and higher until she didn’t know how much longer she could stand it?

Still, he took his time. He gazed at her breasts, just the heat from his gaze caused her nipples to bud and to peak. What would happen if… He took them one at a time in his broad surgeon’s hands, to stroke, to touch, to caress. She thought she might faint from the sheer ecstasy.

“Yes,” she murmured. “Yes.”

“You are so beautiful,” he murmured, “so incredibly responsive. I can’t believe this is happening.”

She tried to say something else, but her mouth was too dry. She arched her back and stifled a cry of pleasure. He held her by the shoulders and let his tongue take over from his skillful fingers, tasting, tempting, driving her almost to the brink.

“Please, Matt,” she said in a strangled voice she didn’t recognize as her own.

“Not yet,” he muttered, trailing kisses down her rib cage and then over her gently rounded belly. He put his hands on her hips and his lips found the core of her being, the center of her body, the place no one had ever found before. She was stunned by the sensations that hit her. She cried out, begging him to stop or start or do something. She wasn’t sure what.

He was sure. Sure of himself and sure of her. With a few strokes of his tongue, he awoke in her what he knew was there—passion and fire. She was hit by rolling waves of ecstasy, by an explosion that was stronger than any thunder or lightning storm.

She let the sensations roll over her, stronger and stronger—building and building until they crashed like the thunder outside the window. Her body convulsed. She lost all sense of time and place. The only thing she knew was that Matt was holding her tightly, murmuring words of endearment and desire. He cradled her head with his hands, covering her face with kisses until she stopped trembling. Her breathing slowed and she was filled with an incredible sense of fulfillment and wonder. So this is what it was supposed to be like.