Deep River Promise

by Jackie Ashenden

  He was indeed the work of art she’d thought he was. He made her mouth go dry.

  His hands dropped to the fastenings of his jeans, taking his time as he undid them, and she was fine with that, enjoying the slow reveal of sharply defined abs, narrow hips, and strong, muscled thighs. And his sex, long, thick, and hard.

  Oh boy. He was something else.

  A delicious tension coiled in the space between them, anticipation and the slow drawing out of that anticipation, making everything more erotic and more powerful.

  Then he was naked and moving purposefully to the bed, getting onto it with her, his hands hot on her skin as he turned her onto her back before moving lower, pushing her thighs apart.

  She shuddered as he settled himself between them and then leaned over her, his powerful body stretched over hers, his hands on the pillows on either side of her head. His heat surrounded her, his scent wrapping around her, the blue of his eyes her entire world.

  “Damon,” she whispered.

  He bent, and his mouth covered hers and she was lost.

  He kissed her hard, deep, but not for long enough, and she wanted to protest. But then his lips were trailing down over her jaw to her neck, pausing at the base of her throat, licking her skin, tasting where her pulse beat far too fast, before going lower.

  Astrid’s eyes closed slowly, a deep tremble shaking her, as his lips seared the tender skin of her chest, kisses like hot rain scattered over the swell of her breasts. He cupped one in his hand, making her shudder and her back arch as his thumb teased one hard, aching nipple. Then his tongue touched the other, licking gently before drawing it into the intense heat of his mouth.

  She gasped, her hands on his shoulders, holding tightly onto him as pleasure raced along her nerve endings, bright and hot and wild. He sucked on her lightly, the pressure the most exquisite thing she’d ever felt, drawing tiny sounds of agonized pleasure from her.

  Then he focused his attention on her other breast as his hands traced her sides and down over the curves of her hips, stroking her thighs.

  His touch felt so good—so gentle, as if she were made of fine china and he had to be careful with her. It made her heart ache. Made her feel as if she was worth more than all the rejections she’d had and all the criticisms she’d received. Made her feel as if she wasn’t the forgotten child, the rejected lover, or the abused victim.

  It made her feel as if she was special.

  Slowly, he drove her crazy and she was panting by the time he released her breast and moved lower, over the trembling plane of her stomach and down even farther.

  Her breath caught as his hands settled on her thighs, pushing them apart even wider. And then he put his mouth between them, where she was hot and aching and needing him most.

  She cried out as he began to explore her, again taking his time. Pausing to lick, to nip, to suck gently at her slick flesh, until she was panting and writhing beneath him, her nails digging into the heavy muscles of his shoulders.

  There was nothing in the world but the pull of pleasure and the touch of his hands, the searing heat of his tongue and the warmth of his breath on her skin. She was desperate for him to end it, for the climax he held just out of her reach, and yet at the same time she didn’t want it to end. She wanted the never-ending pleasure to keep going and to simply exist in it, to keep being the focus of his complete attention. To keep the feeling of being special and wanted and worshipped close to her heart for as long as she could.

  No one had ever made her feel this way. Not one single person.

  But of course it had to end. His hands settled on her hips, gripping her as he did something amazing with his tongue, and the world abruptly exploded into flame around her.

  She cried out, her back arching, the orgasm taking her in firm hands and squeezing her, wringing every last gasp of pleasure from her. She was barely conscious of Damon shifting, moving from between her spread thighs. There came the soft rustle of clothing being moved and then the sound of foil ripping. Then he was back, the heat of his body covering her own, his hands stroking up and down her sides.

  “Are you ready for me?” he whispered, and she could hear desperation for her in his voice. But his touch remained unhurried, waiting for her to give the okay. And she didn’t hesitate.

  “Yes,” she gasped, even though she was still shaking from the effects of the last orgasm. And when he pushed inside her, she groaned again, arching up into him, trying to deepen the exquisite stretching sensation of him sliding into her. She wrapped her legs around his narrow hips, gliding her hands down his powerful back, glorying in the sheer sensual feel of his body on her, in her, surrounding her.

  He felt so good. So incredibly good. He was a gift and she wanted to hold on to him for as long as possible.

  His breath warmed her throat, and she hadn’t realized she’d closed her eyes until he murmured, “Look at me.”

  And she did, opening her eyes to find him gazing down at her, the astonishing blue of his gaze colliding with hers. She’d thought it was the color of a winter sky, clear and light, but it wasn’t. Around his pupil there was a darker midnight blue, drawing her, pulling at her, making it impossible for her to look away.

  There were shadows in those eyes. Mysteries to uncover. Deep emotions that he hid and hid well. But she could see them. She could almost feel them herself.

  She shifted her hands on his back, stroking him, loving the velvety feel of his skin beneath her palms and the weight of his body on hers, making her burn. Deepening that exquisite ache.

  He didn’t speak, only kept on staring at her as he began to move, a gentle, slow rhythm that had her trembling. Then he bent his head and brushed his mouth against hers, giving her soft butterfly kisses, little nips, sipping from her as the pleasure stretched out inside her, lazy and languorous.

  She knew she shouldn’t let all this get to her, that this was purely physical, but when his hands slid beneath her, gathering her even closer, it didn’t feel purely physical. Held tight against him, close as a secret, it felt like more. And that should have made her want to put distance between them, made her want to pull away, but she was tired of distance. Tired of being guarded all the time. Tired of holding herself back, of being afraid to trust. Afraid of so many things.

  But she wasn’t afraid now. Here, in his arms, held tightly against his powerful body, she felt like she’d never be afraid again.

  So she let herself go. Let the pleasure flow through her and the emotion too, let them turn her incandescent, burning bright like a torch. There was light in the darkness that had always felt like it was surrounding her; the darkness was now gone.

  There was no darkness at all in his arms.

  And when the pleasure exploded and lit up the night around her, there was only searing blue burning straight through her.

  Leaving a mark forever on her heart.

  Chapter 13

  Damon leaned on the counter in the little tourist information bureau, having a conversation with Sandy about cruise ships. The place was tiny, the walls covered with posters advertising Alaska fjord cruises, Alaska whale-watching expeditions, Alaska bird-watching trails, Alaska northern lights tours. Basically anything that it was possible to do in Alaska, Sandy had a poster for it. Including more of those mysterious “love in the middle of nowhere” posters that he’d seen in Astrid’s office.

  Talking about cruise ships wasn’t a conversation he’d thought he’d ever have with anyone, but he was trying to whittle down the list of tourism ideas to a viable short list and Sandy was making sense.

  She was an intense, sparky woman in her forties, with short black hair and dark eyes, and had approximately fifty million ideas about getting some tourism into Deep River. She’d once worked for the Alaska Tourism Board and still had contacts in the industry and had been busy regaling Damon with her plan to get Deep River on the list of cruise ship excur
sions.

  It wasn’t a stupid idea. Ketchikan and Juneau were already there, and sure, they were bigger and had more infrastructure, but why not Deep River? Maybe it could be a stop for people looking for places off the beaten track? Those who were wanting a taste of the “real wilderness.” Sandy had further suggestions about playing up the town history and the fact that it was privately owned, not to mention suggestions for gold-rush-themed activities such as panning for gold.

  All excellent stuff.

  After he’d finished with Sandy, he checked his phone to see if he had any cell phone service and was pleased to find he had at least a couple of bars. So he called his mom to let her know he’d be leaving Deep River the next day. She sounded like her usual grumpy self, though toward the end of the call, she mentioned how she’d noticed a strange woman who kept coming in and cleaning up her kitchen.

  Concern tightened inside him. It wasn’t a strange woman, of course. It was Rachel, and he gently reminded his mother that she had a housekeeper, which then involved another repeat of the conversation he’d had with her earlier, about how it was for his peace of mind, not hers, and that of course she was fine.

  She was not fine, that was clear. Which made his decision to leave the next day the right one.

  Later, back in Hope and Silas’s sunlit kitchen above the Moose, Damon sat at the plain wooden kitchen table, a coffee at his elbow, and laid out all the info Sandy had given him, along with the other ideas and information that he’d collected from various different people over the past few days.

  Across the table from him were Silas and Astrid—they’d been going to meet in the mayor’s office, but Gwen and several others had taken to hanging around outside the office entrance so they could impart “important” information about their pet projects—so to avoid them, Astrid had decided to meet at the Moose with Silas instead.

  She looked particularly beautiful today. Her hair gleamed like spun gold in the early-afternoon sunlight coming through the kitchen windows, her gray eyes clear and cool. Except for the telltale silver glitter of passion that flickered every time she looked at him.

  He’d left her early that morning, waking in the dark and leaving her sleeping as he went quietly out of the house. There hadn’t been a sound from Connor’s room and no one had been around outside either—it was Sunday, after all—so he’d managed to slip into the Moose without anyone seeing him.

  If the moment in the library the day before had been magic, the entire night had been an enchantment. Even now he could feel the thrill of it winding through him and setting fire to him, tendrils of a spell designed for the most intense pleasure.

  But not just physical pleasure.

  No, it hadn’t been. And that was the problem. He should have said goodbye to her and walked away, gone back to his bedroom in the Moose. Left her alone.

  “I think you need it as much as I do,” she’d said, and he knew she hadn’t meant just sex, because if it had been, he’d have easily resisted. And he hadn’t resisted.

  It wasn’t sex that he needed, but a connection, and a connection that went deeper than physical. That was about more than a joining of bodies. It was about the sympathy and understanding he’d seen in her silver eyes. Her lack of fear and the warmth in her hand as she’d laid it over his. The way she’d touched his face as he’d undressed her, something tender in her expression that he hadn’t known he’d craved until he saw it.

  He’d always been fine with his surface life, but something in him wanted more. At this moment, he felt the lack of deeper and more lasting. He was sick of drifting.

  Yet deeper was something he couldn’t have. After Ella had died and Rebecca had left him, his capacity for deeper had been burned right out of him. And if he’d felt small flashes of intense emotion in the past couple of days, he was pretty sure those were just the last electrical impulses of a dying brain.

  His ability to care for anyone beyond the strictly impersonal was as dead and gone as his daughter.

  Not that it mattered. He’d had a magical night with Astrid, where they’d both barely slept, and he’d remember it for a long time to come. But a night was all it could ever be. Tomorrow, he’d be going back to LA.

  Silas cleared his throat ostentatiously. “You were saying?”

  Damon, who hadn’t in fact been saying anything, immediately glanced away from Astrid, who was blushing, and down at the table where all the papers were.

  Right. Back on track.

  “I’ve been talking to Sandy,” Damon said, ignoring his pesky libido. “And she mentioned pushing to put Deep River in the cruise ship schedule. Juneau and Ketchikan already are, so there’s no reason we can’t be.”

  “‘We’?” Silas raised a brow.

  A flicker of irritation shot through him. Since when had he included himself as part of Deep River? He wasn’t staying. There was no “we” about it.

  He shrugged. “‘We,’ ‘you,’ it doesn’t matter. The point is that getting this place on that schedule would be fantastic when it comes to getting tourists in the town.”

  “Sure,” Silas said, “but how does she think that’s going to happen? I’m not saying it isn’t a good plan, but we’re tiny and there’s nothing here for tourists as it is.”

  “No, but isn’t that the whole point of getting these tourism ventures together? To get them here?” He pushed a couple of the notes he’d made in Silas’s direction. “Sandy’s got some contacts from her old job with the Alaska tourism board, and she thinks she could reach out to some of the smaller cruise companies at least to make a case. Then we need to make sure we’ve got something to show them in terms of why they should make Deep River a stop. She thinks we could have something in place for the summer, even.”

  “I think that’s a great plan.” Astrid was smiling and it felt like the sun shining directly on him. “I’ve been talking to Gwen about the farmers’ market thing she does in the community center and there’s a few other people who wouldn’t mind getting involved. Especially if there are tourist dollars on the table.”

  Silas looked skeptical. “Sure, but that’s it? A farmers’ market? I wonder if we wouldn’t be better placed to start with Kevin and Mike’s fishing charters, since everything is in place for that already.”

  Damon sat back in his chair and eyed his friend. “Is there any reason we can’t do all of it? Fishing charters wouldn’t require much capital, since they already have the equipment. They’d only need a bit of promotion, and in conjunction with Wild Alaska running flights from Juneau to here, I don’t see that it’s a straight one or the other.” He grinned, ideas beginning to form in his head. “I’ve got a few contacts in Juneau myself who could put out the word. We could do that, do a few interesting wilderness promotions—Sandy’s got some great ideas for that too, by the way. She had this ‘finding love in the middle of—’”

  “‘Nowhere’ campaign, yeah,” Silas interrupted. “I know. She ran it last year too. Didn’t you have to get back to LA?”

  “Yes, but email works,” he said easily. “It’s no drama.”

  Silas nodded. “Okay. And you’re still wanting to sell your share of Wild Alaska?”

  “Yeah,” he said, because he had to. It was a significant amount of money tied up in a business he couldn’t be part of. Money he’d need when his mom eventually had to go into assisted living. “I haven’t got a lot of choice about it.”

  Silas was quiet a moment. “You ever thought about staying here?”

  Damon frowned. “I can’t, you know that. I have to be near my mom.”

  “You could bring her here. Or does she need hospital care?”

  A nice thought, but impossible even if he’d wanted to live here. He liked Deep River and its people, it was true, and he was enjoying helping sort through tourism ideas. But he couldn’t uproot his mother from everything that was familiar to her and bring her to live in the midd
le of nowhere. It wouldn’t be fair to her.

  It wasn’t fair the way she basically abandoned you after Ella died.

  The thought wound through him, poisonous and just flat-out wrong. Sure, his mother hadn’t been the most supportive, but she’d never been comfortable with strong emotion. She was very much a “suck it up and carry on” kind of person. Yes, it had felt like being abandoned at the time, but he’d put that behind him now.

  Anyway, she’d sacrificed a lot to bring him up on her own. She’d taken care of him and now it was his turn to take care of her.

  “No,” he said carefully. “She doesn’t need hospital care. But I can’t just take her away from everything that’s familiar to her.”

  Silas gave him a curiously direct look. But all he said was, “Okay. Fair enough.”

  His friend wanted him to stay, that much was obvious. Yet Silas wasn’t going to make a big deal out of it, thank God.

  Astrid fussed around with the open folder in front of her. “Perhaps we need to discuss a few of the less…conventional ideas?”

  “Yes, let’s discuss it,” he said, ignoring the speculative gleam in Silas’s gaze. “Debbie’s very insistent about Carl’s beer coaster collection.”

  Silas snorted and the conversation moved on.

  The plan was to get a short list divided into long-term goals and then short-term plans the town could implement immediately without too much drama. Then there would be a town vote—apparently Mal put up a ballot box in the market and people came in with a ballot paper. It was all very twentieth-century.

  Damon pointed out some of the financial issues with the ventures people had put forward, then outlined a few solutions. And after the bulk of the discussion had been had, he asked, “What will you do with people unhappy their idea wasn’t chosen?”

  Astrid was fiddling around with their provisional short list. “Oh, they’ll have a vent and try to argue. But everyone abides by the vote.”

  “Apart from Mike,” Silas added. “But his luxury motel idea could be a good one if it was done right.”