Hot Alaska Nights

by Lucy Monroe

  She let herself be pulled into his lap. "It sounded like Carey had things he wanted to say. And it ended up Art did too. One of the cameras isn't working and we had to reblock tomorrow's scenes to stay on schedule."

  "Sounds like a lot of work." Rock's tone said he wasn't sure he understood why she'd been the one doing it.

  "Not so much, but it was tedious. I guess that's all part of being behind the camera."

  "Is that something that interests you?" Rock asked.

  "It is."

  He nodded, like fitting another piece of the puzzle that was her into his brain.

  "And Carey?" she prompted.

  "He said what he needed to."

  "And it went okay?" she probed, unable to tell how dinner had gone by Rock’s demeanor.

  Messy family confrontations she got. Cold family dinners, filled with disapproving silences, she understood. But the Jepsom family dynamic was outside her experience and she wasn’t sure what to expect from the way Carey had been behaving when he’d leant his keys and gate opener to her earlier.

  He’d been nervous. Stressed. Clearly worried about the coming conversation.

  Though from Rock’s reactions to his siblings so far, Deborah wasn’t exactly sure why. No doubt the man could be a hard ass. The new contract for property use with the film company attested to that, as Art pointed out at least once a day during filming, but with his own family? Not so much.

  "Sure." The shrug was in Rock’s voice if not his shoulders.

  Deborah doubted Carey felt half so sanguine about their conversation. "You’re so informative," she teased.

  Rock pulled her coat off and nuzzled into her neck, sending shivers along nerve endings she’d only discovered having since meeting him. "You smell good, beauty."

  "I smell like I need a shower." She tipped her head back to give him better access though.

  "Shower after."

  "You are insatiable."

  He pulled back and met her gaze, his so intense it went to her very core. "Are you complaining?"

  She shook her head, her mouth suddenly too dry to speak.

  "Did you get everything settled with Art that you deeded to?"

  "You want to talk about that now?" she croaked.

  "I want to make sure you are okay."

  She wasn’t the one who’d had a family discussion. "I’m fine."

  "You haven’t had to meet with Art before."

  "We’ve met lots of times."

  "Here, for an hour. Not in town, for hours." The whole time they were talking, Rock was kneading Deborah’s backside, his hands staking a claim she was more than happy to succumb to.

  Technically, she hadn't needed to be there for the new blocking and Rock must have realized that. "Carey isn’t usually staging a big reveal scene over dinner."

  "Oh."

  "Yes, oh."

  "Carey was done telling us his big news hours ago."

  "How was I supposed to know that?" she asked reasonably.

  His sherry gaze glowed with desire. "I didn’t like you being gone."

  "Has anyone ever told you that you’re a spoiled man?" she demanded.

  "No."

  "No?" she asked incredulously. Because really, the guy had a serious hard on for her presence.

  "I am not spoiled."

  "But you expect me to be here all the time."

  "That was part of the deal."

  She rolled her eyes, even as pleasure surged through her body at his expert touch. "Whatever you say."

  "I say I didn’t like you being gone."

  "You missed me," she teased, hope springing anew in her heart.

  A man did not miss a woman after only a few hours’ absence and then simply let her walk out of his life with no desire to ever see her again a few weeks later. That made no sense. No matter what Rock thought he wanted.

  Rock growled and then kissed her and pretty soon, Deborah wasn’t thinking anything at all.

  The morning sun glowed brightly through the skylight, allowing Deborah to appreciate the sight of the naked man still in bed with her. He was sitting up, the blankets and sheets in a pool that barely covered his hips, every inch of his well-defined torso on display for her pleasure. Or at least that had been the plan.

  She had a rare day off and Rock had cleared his calendar as well. The automatic shades had receded to let the light in from the big picture windows and skylights only moments earlier, but both she and Rock were already awake.

  She’d woken with the intention of starting their day with some sexy play, but the sound of his phone's insistent ringtone had interrupted her before she'd barely gotten started. With a quick, "I have to take this," that sounded way too alert for the early hour, he'd leaned across her body and grabbed his smart phone from its charging cradle. Rock was now speaking in rapid Japanese, his face set in lines that meant all business.

  This was not part of the plan.

  Today was supposed to be a day for play. Today was supposed to be a day for them.

  Feeling mischievous, Deborah moved sinuously against Rock. Letting her hand slide precariously close to his sex.

  Not by a single hitch in his breath did her businessman give away what was happening to the other man on the phone, but Rock let his thighs part, giving Deborah tacit approval.

  She nearly shook her head.

  This man was willing to take whatever risk. He wasn’t afraid of losing control on his phone call no matter if she touched him right on his semi-tumescent flesh.

  What woman wouldn’t take that as a challenge?

  A woman a lot less competitive than Deborah. That was all she knew.

  Filled with determination to get some kind of reaction, Deborah let her hand cup his warm sac, trailing her fingertips over the silky skin, gently rolling his balls, oh so careful not to jostle or hurt the most tender masculine orbs.

  Rock’s legs moved farther apart. The only indication her touch was affecting him.

  She kissed his shoulder, moving her mouth over his hot smooth flesh until she reached the tiny brown disc she sought and then she gave it all the attention it deserved, pulling the nipple into a tiny rigid peak with her teeth and tongue, using what she knew of his body to entice and excite him away from his phone call.

  Reminding him, today was supposed to be theirs.

  She moved across his chest, depositing small nipping bites as she went until she reached his other nipple. There. That was a hitch in his deep, oh so masculine voice.

  He went on speaking, but the hitch had been there.

  She was inclined to agree with Carey. Rock would make an amazing leading man in Hollywood. His acting skills were top notch, but he wasn’t exactly lacking success in the business world, was he?

  She continued down his stomach, her hands busy on his sex, bringing the warm thick flesh fully erect. He smelled like clean male skin, his scent entirely familiar and all Rock. They'd showered after making love the night before and she thoroughly enjoyed the natural fragrance of skin after a night of sleep wrapped in one another's arms. The warmth of his body amazing against hers, part of her just wanted to cuddle against him and revel in the stolen moment, when they had no place to be and no agenda but each other.

  Even the phone call felt like a peripheral. Maybe even something good. Up to this point, she'd never had the opportunity to touch him without him taking over, or even getting his sexy seductive side going on.

  Rock Jepsom had the kind of body that excited and delighted Deborah. He turned her on like no one ever had. Touching the sexy businessman’s muscled limbs felt like a special privilege, one that could be denied her at any time. So, she had to take advantage while she had the opportunity. He was everything she’d dreamed of in a boyfriend, in both a physical and emotional sense.

  If only he wasn’t so sure that sex without commitment was the only way to go.

  Pushing the depressing thoughts away, she kissed down his stomach with sucking little busses, bringing up marks that would disappear in a fe
w minutes, but for now, marking him as hers.

  He kept talking in Japanese, the cadence of his voice barely changing, but she lived for every minute shift in decibel, every tiny exhalation change, each inhalation he might not have intended to make.

  Then she allowed her mouth to find the tip of his erection. Score! He made a hoarse sound which he turned into a cough. Grinning deep inside, she sucked.

  A quick spate of Japanese and the phone call was over. Both of Rock’s hands landed on her head, his fingers tunneling through her hair to knead her scalp. "What the hell are you doing to me, hot stuff?"

  She gave a gentle tug to his balls in answer and continued sucking on his hard flesh.

  A harsh shout sounded from deep in his chest, his voice filled with pleasure and loss of control that made her vaginal walls contract with a need to be filled.

  Oh, yeah! Indie actress one, business concerns zero.

  She kept going until Rock’s powerful hips were jerking, his hands squeezing in convulsive movements against her scalp she found a total turn on.

  Deborah loved knowing she could do this to the big man, reveled in the certainty that she alone could turn him inside out like this.

  "Deborah!" His hips arched upward. He pulled at her head. "I’m close," he gritted out, the words tense and guttural.

  She refused to be denied.

  She and only she would take him over the edge.

  Her jaw was stiff, but she increased the suction and bobbed up and down on his oversized prick, intent on taking him to full on orgasm.

  Pre-come coated her mouth, surprisingly lacking in bitterness. She’d read somewhere that when two people were chemically compatible they tasted good to each other. She wasn’t sure about the science of that, but Rock sure as heck tasted better than any other guy she’d had in her mouth.

  Not that there’d been many.

  Especially without a condom.

  Her thoughts scattered as he shouted and came, filling her mouth with thicker, stronger tasting ejaculate. She swallowed and pulled off, jacking another two shots from him before he grabbed her wrist. "Enough."

  "Is it?" She looked up at him. He was still hard in her hand.

  Rock’s sherry gaze burned with intent. "Come up here, beauty."

  "You got plans, Rock?"

  His smile was answer enough. Their day didn’t get started for another hour, or so. He proved that she wasn’t the only one with an oral fixation and found the taste of their partner pleasing.

  Despite their morning lovemaking, it was still early when they pulled up in front of a large sprawling Victorian house just on the other side of Cailkirn proper from Rock’s spread. The sign in front proclaimed it the Knit & Pearl Inn.

  "What are we doing here?" Deborah took in the well maintained, but small patch of grass and flowerbeds in front of the house.

  "Picking up our picnic lunch. Don’t you dare tell, Mrs. Painter." Rock grinned as he unbuckled his seatbelt. "But no one can beat Miss Elspeth’s chocolate chip-pecan cookies."

  "Lydia’s cooking has been amazing."

  "She didn’t need the extra work either."

  Deborah nodded. "You can be considerate when you want to be."

  Rock shrugged. "Do you want to come in and meet the Grant sisters?"

  "Of course." Deborah followed Rock into the inn, loving the way the sisters had the bed and breakfast decorated.

  From the name, she’d expected something fussy and grandmotherly, but instead it was warm and welcoming. The furniture was a mixture of antique and clearly newer pieces designed to a more traditional aesthetic.

  Everything was clean and freshly polished, the fabrics unfussy and unfaded.

  "It’s nice in here."

  "I’m glad to hear you think so," a rather formidable looking older woman said as she walked up.

  Rock smiled at her. "Miz Alma. I’d like you to meet Deborah Bains. She’s working on the film."

  Miz Alma smiled and extended her hand. "I’d heard about you from Elspeth. It’s a pleasure to meet you Miss Bains."

  "Deborah please, Miz Alma. A pleasure to meet you as well."

  "You’re here to pick up a picnic basket?" Miz Alma asked Rock.

  He nodded. "That we are."

  "Lydia won’t be pleased to hear that."

  Rock treated the older woman to one of his rare smiles. "I’m hoping she doesn’t hear at all."

  Miz Alma gave Rock a look but didn’t reply. Simply moved behind the desk and started working on something.

  Rock didn’t seem bothered by the dismissal as he led Deborah to the back of the house. They found another woman in the kitchen. She was talking to herself. At least that’s what Deborah thought at first.

  "I know, Ardal. I’m sure it will work out between them, but things aren’t looking as good as they could right now," the redheaded woman said with a sad shake of her head.

  "Who is Ardal?" Deborah whispered to Rock.

  Rock put his arm around Deborah’s waist and gave her a light squeeze. "Her dead husband. Don’t worry about it." He cleared his throat. "Miz Moya, we’re here for the basket."

  Miz Moya looked up and smiled, seeming unfazed by being caught talking to her dead husband. "Oh, Rock. I didn’t hear you come in. Ardal and I were conversing." She winked at Deborah. "You mustn’t think me a batty old woman. Ardal left Cailkirn in life, but his ghost hasn’t been able to leave it in death."

  "Perhaps he has unfinished business." Wasn’t that what they always said about ghosts that couldn’t move on?

  If you believed in them anyway.

  Miz Moya nodded her head, red curls too stiff with hairspray to sway with the movement. "Just so." She stood up and started bustling around the kitchen. "Now, Elspeth made those cookies you like so well, Rock. I made your favorite stacked sandwiches and cranberry Waldorf salad."

  "That sounds delicious." Rock’s voice rang with clear sincerity. He didn’t seem bothered by Miz Moya’s propensity for talking to ghosts either.

  Deborah smiled at the older woman. "It really does."

  "Where are you two headed?" Miz Moya asked.

  "I’m taking Deborah to get a taste of the area."

  "You’re not taking her hiking dressed like that?" Miz Moya asked, looking aghast.

  Deborah wasn’t sure what was wrong with what she was wearing. She’d put on jeans, a teal t-shirt, a grey short sleeved knit cardy that fell into points mid-thigh and she was wearing a darker teal scarf for both style and well, warmth. Alaskan summer just wasn’t as warm as LA summer.

  She’d opted for sandals, but she’d walked miles in these shoes back home. They were stylish, but comfortable.

  Rock laughed, himself clad in jeans, two-tone knit tee and Cole Haan shoes. "We’re driving to see the sites, not going on a hiking tour. I’m not Tack."

  Moya made a face at the mention of the other man. "Kitty started working at his tour guide agency. I thought it was the right thing, at first."

  "Don’t you still?" Rock prodded.

  "I’m not sure. She’s been sad lately."

  "She’s a grown woman, Miz Moya. You have to trust her to make the right choices for her life," Rock said.

  "That didn’t work so well before."

  Deborah reached out to the older woman. She couldn’t help herself. Miz Moya just seemed so grief stricken. "It’ll work out."

  She didn’t know if that were true, or not, but she felt almost compelled to reassure to the older woman.

  Miz Moya smiled at her and patted her arm. "You’re a good girl, Deborah. Elspeth was right, I think. You’d fit in well around here."

  Rock made a scoffing sound. "She’s from the big city and going back to it. Don’t go thinking Deborah is moving to Cailkirn, Miz Moya. That’s not how things work."

  "Why not?" Miz Moya looked unconvinced. "You came here from LA and stayed."

  "As a ten-year-old."

  Miz Moya gave him a chiding glance. "Others have come and stayed."

  "Not actors."


  That again? Deborah felt like screaming. Hadn’t they made any progress on that front at all? Or was Rock determined to forever lump Deborah in with his parents and every other flaky actor he’d known or heard of?

  "Your parents stayed." Miz Moya pointed out.

  Rock just shook his head. And Deborah felt her heart constrict. He’d never told anyone his parents had planned to leave the tiny Alaskan town before their tragic deaths. That they’d planned to rip the only security their children had known away from them…again.

  Yeah, Rock had his reasons for doubting that Deborah might want to make a life in Cailkirn, but couldn’t he ask, couldn’t he even consider the idea of compromise?

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Deborah made a little surprised sound when Rock turned south on Sterling Highway.

  "What?" he asked.

  She turned to him. "I don’t know. I guess, I just expected us to go toward Kenai."

  "There’s more to the peninsula than the town it’s named for."

  "Yes, of course." Deborah’s soft tones washed over Rock’s body like her fingers had earlier that morning. "Where exactly are we going?"

  He was glad she was talking again. She’d gotten quiet after meeting Miz Moya. He didn’t know if it was meeting an old lady who still talked to the ghost of her dead husband, or what, but Deborah had seemed to pull into herself. Rock didn’t like it.

  He answered her question now without hesitation. "Ninilchik."

  "Where’s that?"

  "About an hour south. It’s one of the oldest villages in Alaska, much less on the Kenai peninsula. Before the Russians came, it was a Deni’ana Athabaskan lodging area." She was going to love the mixture of Russian and Native American culture in the small town. It was a lot like Cailkirn without the cruise ship culture and influx of hundreds of thousands of tourists in the summer. It was missing the Scottish influence as well.

  "You’ll love the Russian Orthodox church. It’s really old and beautiful." He told her its history, knowing from past discussions it would interest her.

  "You know a lot about your adopted state."