Alaskan Nights

by Anna Leigh Keaton

  He made it sound so simple. She’d already spent two weeks racking her brain, trying to figure it out.

  Brandon’s lips brushed over her cheek again, then just a whisper of a touch against her lips. Her heart thudded against her ribs, heat rushed to her face and zinged between her thighs.

  “Why don’t you roll over, baby.”

  Roll over? She frowned. “Brandon?”

  “Hm?”

  “Roll over?”

  “Yeah, I don’t want to smother you.” He pressed his lips against her forehead.

  Confused, Isabella rolled over so her back pressed against his chest, her head on his arm. He pulled her snug against his body and there was no way to miss his long, solid arousal as it pressed against her bottom. She stifled the urge to press against him.

  He brushed her hair away from her cheek and then he placed a kiss on that really sensitive spot just under her ear, making her shiver and softly moan. He wrapped his arm around her waist, pulled her a little tighter against his groin, then whispered, “’Night, sweetheart.”

  Goodnight?

  She turned her head to peer at him. His eyes were closed.

  Oh, hell.

  ~*~*~

  Leaning up on his elbow, Brandon watched Bella sleep. Her skin so pale and soft, that smattering of freckles across her nose and high cheekbones. Her lashes, a rich, dark auburn, and her mass of curly, silky-soft hair seemed to glow with fire. One hand near her face, palm up, fingers slightly curled, the other across the dip of her belly beneath her ribs.

  He teased her about eating so much, but she desperately needed to put on the weight. Besides, he liked a woman with a healthy appetite.

  Sleeping with her all night had been pure torture. She’d wiggled and squirmed against him until he thought he’d explode from the torment. Once she’d finally relaxed, it had taken him even longer to force his body into submission and sleep.

  It was late now, almost eleven. The sound of raindrops fell soft and soothing against the tin roof of the cabin. So, they had all day to stay here. In bed. He wondered if he’d made his point. If she realized he wasn’t just after sex.

  He’d never lain in bed with a woman and talked the way they had last night. He’d never wanted to that kind of intimacy. There was so much more he wanted to tell her. About his childhood, his mother, Sheila and her family. And then he wanted to introduce her to his mom. And he wanted to marry her. Wanted to help her find whatever it was that would make her happy.

  He ran his finger along her jaw, her skin like rose petals. Soft, creamy. She smiled sleepily, and his heart melted even more.

  Dear God, let her be mine. I’ll spend the rest of my life taking care of her.

  Dipping his head, he kissed her cheek, nuzzled her neck, inhaling deep her scent.

  “Flowers,” Bella said with a sigh.

  Brandon smiled against her throat. “Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of blueberry pancakes, but if you want flowers, I’m sure I can find some, somewhere.”

  Bella laughed, low and throaty from sleep. The sound was pure magic and ignited his lust. “I want to work in a flower shop. That’s what I wanted to do when I was a kid.”

  He raised his head and looked down at her. Her eyes were still closed, and a secret little smile curved her lips. “Good. Flowers are good.”

  Without opening her eyes, she reached up, laced her fingers through his hair and pulled his face back to her neck. He obliged by lightly suckling her skin. She moaned her enjoyment. The sexy sound sent a shaft of hungry need through him. Uncurling his fingers from her shirt, he forced himself to relax and move slowly.

  “This is a nice way to wake up,” she said in that sultry, sleep-raspy voice.

  “Mm-hmm,” he agreed as his teeth skimmed the tendon along the side of her neck.

  “Ohh, that’s really nice.” Her body turned toward his. She pressed her thighs against him.

  Fighting with himself for control, he ran his hand down her back. Told himself he wasn’t a randy teen, that he was old enough to restrain himself. He pulled her body flush with his, and when she moaned and shifted, he pressed his thigh between hers, his erection snug against her hip. He groaned.

  “Brandon,” she said on a sigh as her fingers clutched in his hair.

  He trailed damp, open-mouthed kisses over her jaw, her cheek, her eyelids. When her lips parted on another soft moan, he captured her mouth with his. She tasted sweet and hot. When her tongue slid over his, he clutched her firm, round bottom, pulling her hard against him, grinding his aching erection against her softness.

  He brought his leg higher, pressing intimately against her with his thigh. She jerked her mouth from his, pressing her head back into the fluffy sleeping bag, and moaned. His mouth was on her throat, nipping at her delectable skin as he rocked his thigh against her, reveling in her heat. Her dampness.

  “Please,” she begged.

  He released her bottom and slid her sweatshirt up. The sight of her perfect round breasts, the puckered dusky nipples, nearly undid him. “Arms up, baby,” he said, his voice so gravelly it was almost unrecognizable as his own.

  She raised her arms above her head, and he slipped the shirt off her. “Beautiful,” he murmured as he lowered his mouth between the soft mounds. Cupping the sides of her breasts, he pressed them closer together, turning his head to lay a kiss on the creamy sides of each. Her cool hands trailed over his shoulders, exciting him more. Her breaths came in ragged little puffs.

  Pressing himself against her hip, he was hard, ready, in a state of pleasure bordering on pain. He swore to himself he’d bring her to climax first, even if it killed him. He’d never wanted a woman so badly. Never wanted to give a woman so much.

  When his thumbs skimmed over her tightly peaked nipples, she cried out and her hands landed back in his hair.

  His thigh pressed hard against her heated center. She was so hot, so wet, and it made him wild. “You’re killing me, baby,” he whispered just before he flicked his tongue over one hard nipple. She arched against him and pulled his head toward her. He took her between his lips and suckled until she sobbed, then he moved to the other pebbled nipple.

  Slipping his hand down her side, he slid his fingers into the waistband of her panties. He pulled his thigh away and released her nipple. She whimpered. “Just a second, love,” he told her as he slid her panties down her legs. He kissed her belly, dipped his tongue into the slight shadow of her navel, nipped the skin at her hip.

  “Brandon, now, please,” she moaned as she tugged at his shoulders.

  “Slow down, Bella. We’ve got forever.” If she kept begging, kept making those erotic little sounds, he’d lose it and take her before she was ready. The last thing he wanted to do. Slowly, trying to even out his own breathing, he skimmed the back of his fingers over her downy, damp auburn curls. Her hips rose to meet him, opening her to his view. “God, you’re beautiful.”

  Sliding his fingers between her soft, moist folds, he whispered, “Oh baby,” with a smile of satisfaction. She was more than ready to come. He let her pull him up, and as he settled his mouth to hers, he slipped a finger deep inside her.

  She cried out, her hips rising off the mattress to meet his hand. She was wet, wanting, and wild. All for him. He withdrew his finger and slipped in a second as he made love to her mouth with his tongue, teeth, and lips.

  She pressed against his hand, raising her hips to him, and he let her set the rhythm. He broke off the kiss so he could see her, to make sure he was giving her all she needed. Her face was flushed, skin glowing, lips slightly parted and swollen from his kisses. Her heartbeat visible at the base of her throat.

  “Open your eyes, Bella,” he said in a husky timbre. “Look at me.”

  Her eyelashes fluttered open. Those striking green eyes sparkled with sexual heat. As he held her gaze, he flicked his thumb over her clitoris. Her hands tightened on his shoulders, her short little nails digging into his flesh, making him groan.

  “
My beautiful Bella,” he whispered as he lowered his head to capture a lovely, perfect nipple between his teeth. At the same time, he rubbed his thumb against her and thrust his fingers deep.

  “Brandon!” she cried as her hips jerked upward.

  “Come for me, baby,” he urged as he took her other breast in his mouth and suckled hard.

  She threw her head back and clamped her bottom lip between her teeth. Pressing into her with his fingers, he rubbed against her. Her inner muscles contracted around his fingers, and a lusty moan of his own pulled from his soul.

  With a cry that might have been his name, her thighs squeezed his hand as her climax exploded through her. He pleasured her until her hands fell limp from his shoulders and her eyelids drifted closed.

  He pulled out of her and pushed his shorts down, kicking them away with impatience. Spreading her thighs wide, he positioned himself over her, bracing himself on his elbows. Damp hair clung to her sweat-slickened neck. “Open your eyes, sweetheart. I need you.”

  Dazed, slightly unfocused, she gazed at him and smiled. A sexy smile—one he wanted to see every morning for the rest of his life—turned up her sexy red lips. Her gentle little hands ran lightly up his biceps to his shoulders, up his neck to cup the back of his head. And then she pulled him down to those full, delicious lips.

  As his tongue swept into her mouth, he slid deep inside her. She moaned. So did he. He’d never been inside a woman without protection. It was a mind-staggering sensation. So hot. So slick. His Bella was so tight and perfect.

  Her arms encircled his neck. She raised her knees and lifted her hips, taking all of him.

  “Bella…”

  Her tongue went deep into his mouth, retreated, then delved in again. He withdrew himself almost all the way from her heat, and then pressed back into her, hard, thrusting in time with the motion of her tongue. Her inner muscles tightened around him, milked him. Her long, strong legs encircled his waist. Never had anything been so utterly perfect.

  Ripping his mouth from hers, he wrapped an arm behind her back, lifted her from the mattress, and caught one nipple in his mouth as he drove into her again.

  “Brandon. Oh, God, Brandon!”

  Hearing her call his name, knowing it was ecstasy that made her voice hoarse, made him wild. Damn his self-control. She needed this as much as he did. Wrapping his other arm around her, he buried his face against her neck as he began to rock in and out of her in a hard, steady motion that would bring them both to the brink.

  A soft sob escaped her. She clung to him with arms and legs. Bit into his shoulder, making him tremble as he struggled to hold back his release, waiting for her. Needing to hear her climax again. As her inner muscles pulled at him, he thought he might go insane.

  “Come for me,” she whispered in his ear, returning his own words to him. He gripped her hip and drove deep, pure lust spiking through him. With one final pounding thrust, he shattered. He shouted her name as he let himself soar over the edge to completion. And then she cried out and joined him in ecstasy.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Isabella felt as if the world had stopped turning. Brandon’s body lay on hers, the weight heavy and safe. She’d never experienced anything close to what he’d just done to her.

  Holy crap! Twice! She giggled.

  “You find something amusing?” he mumbled against her neck. “I think you killed me.”

  Their bodies stuck together with sweat. She didn’t care. She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight. “Wow.”

  “Uh-huh. I’ll say.” He rolled to the side, taking her with him, brushing his lips against hers as she grinned. She couldn’t stop grinning. “That was okay for you, then?”

  Another giggle slipped out. She couldn’t remember the last time she giggled. Maybe never. “Um, yeah. That was okay.”

  Brandon pinched her bottom. She giggled and then wiggled against him, nuzzling her lips against his throat.

  “Who’s making breakfast? I’m starved.”

  She groaned. “I’m too worn out to eat.”

  “What? Are you saying I wore you out?” he asked innocently. “Ow! Hey! No biting!”

  “Twice,” she said, still in awe over that fact.

  “Uh-huh. But if it hadn’t been so long since I, uh, well, it’s been a hell of a long time.”

  “Really? How long?” Isabella asked.

  “Never mind. Next time we’ll shoot for three or four.”

  She laughed. “Oh, really? Three or four? Is that as good as you can do?”

  He squeezed her tight and kissed her hard. “We’ll see.”

  A long, peaceful silence fell between them. His fingers skimmed every so lightly over her shoulder, and she sighed in contentment. In over two years of marriage, she could count on her fingers the number of times she’d climaxed. And with Brandon—twice. Within minutes of each other. Nothing had ever felt so incredibly...perfect.

  An unexpected wave of sadness swept over her so suddenly she felt the tears before she could stem their flow. Damn it. She loved him. No fairy tales, no heartbreak, no regrets. What a load of shit that turned out to be. She wondered if her heart would ever heal.

  “Babe?” Brandon asked as he felt her body stiffen.

  “I’m all right,” she choked out. She tried pulling away, but he held her tight.

  “Talk to me, sweetheart. What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

  She shook her head. “No, you were wonderful. Just... just...” She took a deep breath, obviously trying to stop the tears. “Too much adrenaline, I guess.”

  Brandon pulled the sleeping bag over them and held Bella, rocking her gently. “Everything’s all right, babe. I promise.” He kissed her forehead, her cheek. He wanted to tell her how much he loved her, but he had the strong feeling that she wasn’t ready to hear it.

  “I never cry,” she whispered. Then sniffled. “Never.”

  He smiled against her forehead. “Of course you don’t, baby.”

  She smacked his shoulder, making him smile. He pulled back so he could see her face—the face he wanted to wake up to every morning for the rest of his life. He kissed her then. Softly. A whisper of lips against lips. A skim of his tongue. “Shut your eyes, sweetheart. Relax for a while. When you’re ready, you can go make breakfast.”

  She laughed, exactly the reaction he’d hoped to get.

  “Baby Ruth and Milky Way with a side of corn chips and Oreos.”

  “Mmmm, my favorite.”

  “Brandon?” she said softly.

  “Yes?”

  “After breakfast...could we...you know...again?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  ~*~*~

  “Is that everything?” Brandon asked as he zipped his duffle bag and eyed the surprisingly small pile of their belongings on the porch of the cabin.

  “I think so. If you’ll empty the ashes out of the stove and get the propane tanks from beneath the cabin, I’ll sweep the floor.”

  Bella turned to go back inside, but Brandon caught her hand and pulled her down on his lap. “Don’t look so sad, sweetheart. We can’t stay out here in our little hideaway forever.”

  Bella nuzzled her nose against his throat as she wound her arms around his neck. “I know.”

  He looked forward to getting back to civilization. The vacation had been nice. Being with Bella had been like a dream come true. But he was eager to get her home and get started on building their life together. “Think about it, baby. Tonight we’ll have a big cheesy, deep pan pizza and hot bread sticks slathered in garlic butter. Maybe a beer or two. And I bet I can talk Mom into making one of her famous German chocolate cakes for dessert.”

  Bella laughed. “And I thought I was the only one who constantly thought about food. Anchovies?”

  “Naw, don’t care for anchovies on my cake, but if you—”

  She pinched his biceps through his flannel shirt. “Do you like anchovies on your pizza?”

  “Um, no. But you can if you want.”

  She
shook her head. “Hate the things. Cam used to get them. Even when you pick them off, that salty, weird flavor is still there.”

  “Mushrooms?” he asked, surprised there were still so many things he didn’t know about his woman. After all the talking they’d done over the past two weeks, he hadn’t realized they’d skipped over the mundane, everyday things like pizza toppings.

  “Everything except the anchovies. Oh, and green peppers. They make me burp.”

  Brandon held her there on his lap, his arms wrapped around her. His heart felt so full he thought it might burst. “Do you drink beer?” he asked.

  “Mmhmm. Nothing better than an icy cold Bud with hot pizza.”

  “Wine?”

  “Only when I really want something.”

  It was his turn to give her a little pinch, and she laughed. “No, not a fan of wine or champagne. Headaches. I like a nice malt whisky now and then. And...”

  “And?” he prodded.

  “Tequila. Straight. But only the good stuff.”

  Brandon laughed and hugged her tight. “I would have never guessed.”

  Bella kissed his cheek and pushed herself up. “Come on. Bjorn will be here in less than an hour.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He shoved to his feet. “I’ll get the ashes first, before you sweep.”

  Isabella went into the cabin and retrieved the ancient, frayed broom from the pantry. She watched Brandon as he knelt in front of the blackened barrel stove and scooped out ashes with a short fireplace shovel and dumped them into an even older aluminum bucket.

  He was so beautiful. His flannel shirt stretched across his wide shoulders and his jeans fit snug, showing off thickly muscled thighs. His mouthwatering butt.

  Damn it, she wasn’t going to cry.

  The last two weeks had been magical. They’d talked, fished, hiked, and made love. Picked berries, shared the cooking, and made love. And this was her last day with him. Tomorrow morning at six-oh-five a.m. she’d be on a plane heading back to San Francisco.

  In the time they’d spent together, he’d talked about their life. A future. Places he wanted to take her, things he wanted to do and see with her. He’d even talked about the kind of house they’d live in. She’d never once told him she wasn’t staying, nor had she committed to anything. She couldn’t stay with him.