Thorne Bay

by Jeanine Croft

  “Great, you can meet my son.”

  “Your son?!”

  He smirked. “His name’s Odin, he’s hairy and licks his junk a lot.”

  “Oh.”

  “You look surprised.” He angled his head askance. “What were you thinking, Spencer?”

  I gave an insouciant lift go my shoulder. “Just that I’m glad your idea of adventure doesn’t include a Red Room of Pain.”

  “A what?” He seemed honestly confused.

  I waved my hand dismissively. “I’d love to meet your dog.”

  “And to sweeten the deal, I’ll throw in some cheesecake. Sound good?”

  “Not as good as boobs and bolognese.” Was cheesecake some sort of sophisticated code for big kid games?

  Tristan didn’t seem to notice my flushed skin because he was already making his farewells of back slaps and kisses. I added my diffident goodbyes to his and winced when Nicole pressed her cold cheek to mine. Dean’s taciturn cheek received only the briefest and most reserved peck before I backed away. These two, Nicole and Dean, I hadn’t quite figured out yet and both of them unsettled me.

  “Shall we?” Tristan covered my hand warmly with his, nodding towards the front door.

  “We shall.” Finally. The way Nicole had bristled every time Tristan touched or looked at me had left me enervated. I took a deep breath as we strolled back to the truck, my cold fingers threaded tightly into his.

  “You did well,” he said.

  “Was it a test?”

  “If it was you passed.” And then he stopped and drew me closer so that he could press a hot kiss to my lips.

  My skin suffused with heat and my stomach cartwheeled as he moved his beautiful lips skillfully over mine, his tongue delving and whetting my nonexistent appetite. The one I hadn’t had all night till right now. When he lifted his head his eyes were a bright wolfish yellow.

  I shivered. “Your eyes change color, did you know that?”

  He shrugged and opened the door for me. Once he was in his own seat, he began scrolling through his playlist instead of shifting the gear into drive. I was about to ask what he was doing when Marvin Gaye’s Let’s Get It On began streaming through the speakers.

  “Seriously?” I burst into laughter as he finally reversed out the parking spot.

  22

  Gentleman Stripper

  A deep, lazy bark greeted us as soon as the front door opened. It was accompanied by a large shadow, tail wagging, that loped toward us. I felt, rather than saw, Tristan leave my side.

  “Hey, my boy!” Tristan’s dark silhouette hunkered down beside the dog, grabbing him playfully around the neck for a hug. “This is Odin.”

  “He has a very handsome silhouette.” I was wearing a facetious grin, but I knew he couldn’t see it in the darkness.

  “Sorry.” Though I couldn’t see his expression, his tone was rueful. “The light switch is just on the wall beside you.”

  The moonlight through the French doors didn’t quite reach the front door, so I walked my fingers blindly along the wall in question.

  “A little more to the right,” he instructed. “You’re getting warmer.”

  How the hell could he see what my hand was doing? I couldn’t even tell where it was, and it was right in front of my face! Finally, my fingers brushed the light panel. “My word, I’ll never take my sight for granted again.”

  Good thing Odin hadn’t snuck up on me in my blindness or I’d have shrieked my head off. I had only a half second warning, from when the bulb was lit, before Odin maneuvered his hulking body directly between my thighs for a doggie back scratch. I obliged him, running my fingers through the coarse grey hair at his flanks. I didn’t dare deny the shaggy giant.

  “I rescued him when he was a puppy,” Tristan said, still kneeling on the floor.

  I smiled nervously as the dog lifted beautiful golden eyes to my face, probably deciding whether or not my butt scratches were up to snuff. “He looks like a wolf!”

  “That’s because he is a wolf.” Tristan smirked as he pushed himself off the floor. “I think a hunter must have killed his mother.”

  Now that Odin had gotten a two for one, he trotted from the room with a hearty sneeze.

  “Well, you just got the seal of approval.” Tristan leaned down to plant a brief, albeit sweet, kiss on my lips and then headed off to the fridge.

  “He’s a sweet boy. Humans could learn a lot from wolves.” Such noble and loyal creatures.

  “Yeah, wolves take pleasure in the little things.” He laced our fingers and pulled me to the kitchen. “Like butt scratches, for example.”

  “Who doesn’t love a good butt scratch,” I agreed.

  “Right, and butt sniffing—you can learn so much about a person from butt sniffing.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.”

  He chuckled as he lifted a wine glass from the cupboard and poured me a generous serving. “Don’t worry, I was gonna spare you the details anyway.” He winked, placing the glass stem between my waiting fingers.

  The chocolaty bouquet pressed upon my tongue like a bold kiss as I took my first sip, holding Tristan’s gaze over the rim. “As with most details about your life.” I hadn’t expected the coldness that seeped into my tone.

  Just like that, his humor left him. “I don’t want to have any secrets from you, Evan.”

  “Then don’t.” I waited a moment, in case he meant to open up a little, to bleed a little, but he watched me quietly as I swirled the wine around my glass. I loved the earthy color of Malbec, like rich warm blood. It was like no other red. I transferred my eyes back to him and gave a resigned shrug. “I guess you’ll tell me when you’re ready.” There was a cautionary voice inside advising me to take it slow with him, that maybe tonight ought not be the night for physical intimacy. He was holding back too much, it warned, and, therefore, so should I. But I argued that if perhaps I gave myself to him he’d love me in return; love me enough to expose all of himself.

  He turned away and poured himself a bourbon into an enamel camping mug. “Maybe it’s you that has to be ready to hear what I have to say.”

  “Do I need to be liquored up first?” I coated my palate with another sip of Malbec.

  “Probably.” His chuckle held very little humor.

  “I’ll get right on that. Shall we fill the wait with cheesecake.” I was done with talking about this invisible Sword of Damocles hanging between us anyway. It would either fall or it wouldn’t. I would either survive it or I wouldn’t.

  “We shall.” He pulled two dessert plates from the cupboard.

  From the couch, Odin’s ears twitched with interest as the fridge door was opened. He peeled one eye open to watch his master pull the cheesecake out. The wolf’s legs were spread wide in the air and the family jewels were bared blithely to the world.

  Noticing the direction of my gaze, Tristan chuckled. “Yeah, the guy has no shame.”

  “Can you say you look any classier when you’re sleeping?” I absently took the leaden dessert plate and fork from him.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

  I did actually.

  Tristan winked and excused himself a moment, disappearing from the room, presumably to visit the washroom.

  Smiling, I repaired from his kitchen and wandered into the living room. Woodsmoke and cedar incensed the cabin, and I found it reminiscent of Tristan’s skin. Wanting to clear my head, I unlocked the sliding door and stepped outside, the brisk air instantly puckering my skin. At the corner of the large deck, I spied a hot tub. There was something darkly inviting about the way his hot tub was guarded by towering woods. Shivers of divine premonition shot up my spine as I approached it.

  You know you want to, Evan. Could I? Did I have the guts? I double dare you. Without stopping to think too long about what it was I was about to do, I flipped the thick vinyl cover up over the sturdy bracket. Steam wafted up the moment the top was lifted. Hurriedly, I began stripping out of my clothes, shooting furt
ive glances over my naked shoulders in case I was caught with my knickers, quite literally, around my ankles. I scrambled inelegantly over the side of the square tub and quickly sank into the safety of the roaring bubbles.

  I felt so incredibly uninhibited and sensual as the bubbles lapped against my chest. I had never done anything so risqué in my life. Who the hell had I become? The larkspur looming beside the deck seemed to glare with disapproval, their sepals black in the moonlight. Well, no one asked you. I stuck my tongue out at it.

  As the seconds slowed, the wait became increasingly suspenseful. I sat there agonizing over my spontaneity, second-guessing my daring. I glanced down at myself, trying to see through the foam—the way a certain pair of probing, aqueous eyes might soon see me—and felt my pulse spike because, although the bubbles obscured most of my body, very little was actually left to the imagination. The lights beneath the water shifted from dreamy blue to dark purple before silhouetting my body in an erotic red glow.

  I looked up at the milky starscape and took a deep breath of the steam roiling off the surface in hot wreaths. You’re in hot water now. A movement back on earth, however, drew my gaze. Tristan had slipped through the sliding doors as soundlessly as a jungle cat. He approached the tub slowly, his eyes primal as they transfixed me.

  My belly tightened. “Say something, you’re making me nervous.” So much for playing the cool seductress.

  “Give me a second,” he murmured, setting his mug of bourbon on the side of the tub, “it’s not every day I find a nudist in my yard.”

  I giggled self-consciously and splashed a bit of water at him before sinking lower into the hot bubbles. Gaze lingering, Tristan reached behind his head to pull his shirt off in that sexy and deliberate way that men do, the plains of his abs inviting me to follow each muscle flex greedily.

  Omigod! I was about to get my very first Chippendales show; a one on one with the hottest man I’d ever laid eyes on.

  Once his shirt had been discarded he held up a finger to pause the show and then disappeared back inside for a hot minute to fetch us each two fluffy towels. Those he hung on the towel rack, beside the hot tub, and then made short work of unzipping his jeans. He pushed them off with not a single sign of reserve. When he’d stepped out of them, he stood in nothing more than his navy boxer briefs, allowing me to enjoy the view for a few precious seconds before he hooked his thumb at the waistband where that gorgeous pelvic ‘V’ (the arrow to heaven) disappeared from view. My eyes lingered reverentially over every male contour, across the smooth expanse of golden skin that had been poured over the strong sinews of his six-foot-something frame. Tristan was more quarterback than linebacker or, in rugby terms, more scrum-half than prop. He angled his head wickedly, warning me that he was about to continue with the show. I gave a small nod and began chewing nervously at my thumbnail as he slowly pushed the band further down. I gaped. I blushed through the haze of sultry steam. I couldn’t look away. He’d as good as dared me to watch and I was too curious to deny myself. It wasn’t like I hadn’t seen male parts before. In fact, I’d been inundated with penises recently—literally been given the willies this morning—and I had to admit they were all extremely unattractive-looking organs. But when one was looking at a certain appendage belonging to a certain demigod of a man, all thoughts were obliterated. There was room only to marvel.

  This work of beauty belonged in the Sistine Chapel. But would it even fit on that glorious ceiling? I gulped. It was definitely in proportion to the rest of him and did nothing to assuage the butterflies from my stomach. He, of course, appeared to be enjoying my discomfit, and my inspection, and took his sweet time climbing into the jacuzzi. And even when that beast had finally been banished to the depths of the bubbling tub, I still continued to fidget because I knew that it was there…nearby. Its mere presence threatened. He, however, nonchalantly kept to his side of the tub.

  “Oh crap,” he said unexpectedly, his mouth awakening into a mischievous smirk. “I forgot the cheesecake.”

  “Wait!” I squeezed my eyes shut and threw my hands up to stop him, my heart wholly unprepared for another show. “I wasn’t gonna eat it anyway.” And I wasn’t talking about his man meat either.

  “Aha! So the cheesecake was just a ploy to seduce me?”

  “Pfft, it’s not like I had to try very hard. You kinky bastards seem all too eager to drop your pants in the woods.”

  “Says the voyeur,” he quipped.

  “What? No way, I’m the unsuspecting victim here. Your brother practically shoved his bits in my face before I knew what was happening. And I heard he ran starkers through Mrs. Dinwiddie’s yard recently too.” As for my lady bits, they’d only yawned at the sight of the other meats. Not now, though. Tristan’s nakedness was a whole other animal.

  “Maybe if we flash her enough she’ll move to Australia.” He began to get up.

  “I’m about to move to Australia!” I averted my gaze again. “Sit down before you scare the wildlife.”

  “Evan…I am the wildlife,” he chuckled, but complied and sat back down. “The gentlemanly thing to do is not to argue with a lady, I guess.”

  “So you’re a gentleman stripper, huh?”

  “I admit that this was my first live show. I wish the audience had been a little more vocal with the encouragements.”

  “I gotta tell ya, I feel cheated. Where was the music?” Ginuine’s Pony would have been the perfect musical complement. “And where was the sparkly thong?”

  “You didn’t hear the music? I definitely heard the chorus of angels when I saw you out here…”

  I rolled my eyes. “Speaking of cheesecake, I have a confession.”

  With one raised brow, he took a sip of bourbon.

  Who drinks bourbon from a mug anyway? “I don’t eat the stuff. I don’t eat cheese anything.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah, no cow pus of any kind.”

  “Cow pus?!” He looked about ready to spew his mouthful of bourbon. “What about fish then, you heathen?”

  “Negative. I told you, no meat at all.”

  “Eggs?”

  “You mean chicken abortions?” I shook my head. “No.”

  “It’s a sad day when a woman gives up hotdogs.”

  “Gross, nothing but lips and sphincters.”

  He swiftly brought his hands to his ears. “Sacrilege!” When he saw that I was laughing too much to speak he uncovered them again. “Keep your blasphemies to yourself, woman.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” The water had worked my blood into a fever and beads of sweat were rolling down my temples. Sitting next to a naked Tristan hadn’t helped. It was time to get out. But how to accomplish that without flashing the merchandise.

  “Getting too hot?” Tristan guessed my plight immediately and, without imparting any wisecracks, hauled himself out of the water. My eyes flew instantly to his rosy backside as he grabbed a towel to wrap around his lean waist. As soon as he’d done that he took the other one and held it out for me. “I’ll close my eyes,” he promised, smirking.

  Did I want him to? I ran my teeth nervously over my lips and stood up out of the water before he had a chance to make good on his chivalrous promise. It was a tacit invitation for him to keep watching. I didn’t need to look down to know my nipples had hardened under his stare. The rills streamed down over my flushed skin. No sexy black dress from a half-forgotten fantasy could’ve ever made me feel one tenth of the power that I felt right then and there in my own naked flesh, under those glowing green eyes. I had no idea what had gotten into me tonight, but I felt beautiful and delicious and alluring. It was liberating. The effect I was having on him was evidenced by the straining of his towel below the waist.

  His eyes were glutting on every inch of me as I moved to the edge with dilatory care, stepping over the side and onto the top step so that we were eye level. Though it obviously pained him to do so, he wrapped the towel snugly around my shoulders, his Adam’s apple shifting as he swallowed. Then he s
et to work replacing the cover over the hot tub before following me inside.

  “Should I take you home?” He shut us in from the cold and leaned back against the double doors. Something primordial shifted in his gaze like a sudden bolt across the night sky.

  The stirring in my core seemed to mirror the heat in those otherworldly eyes. This had been the steamiest, literally the steamiest, night of my life and he had barely touched me, yet my loins were pyretic. “Do you want me to go home?” I whispered, becoming shy again.

  “I want you to tell me what you want.” He gestured at the bulge in his towel. “It’s pretty clear what I‘m feeling, but you’re the one who needs to be sure what you want.”

  I swallowed, hard, and the sound of it seemed to echo through the house. “I want to spend the night here. With you.”

  As soon as I’d spoken those words, he growled with relief. He pulled my body flush against his and leaned down to claim my mouth. I kissed him back with an abandon that rivaled his. My towel dropped absently to the floor when he lifted me up to straddle his waist, his arms like steel bands locking me tightly against him. “Are you sure?” he asked against my lips some moments later.

  Every inch of my skin was flushed with desire. “Yes. I want you, Tristan.”

  23

  The Sleepover

  “G’night, Odie,” Tristan said, switching the light off. The wolf lifted his head briefly from his paws to watch as we passed him by.

  My towel was back in place, as was Tristan’s, and my hand was trembling feverishly in his as he lead me upstairs. Our fingers were twined in a steamy foretaste of what was to come. At the door he halted and waited, with an almost predatory stillness, watching with hooded eyes as I preceded him into his room. At his bedside I bit my lip, feeling both excited and anxious, my eyes floating abstractedly over the sheets. Without turning around, I knew that Tristan was right behind me. He always moved so silently. He wasn’t touching me yet, but I could feel his body heat radiating like a wood stove. His room was steeped in his spicy scent.