Date: 2016-10-01 07:00:00+00:00
Keywords: review
Description: An avalanche disrupts a heli-skiing trip. Is Sabine’s only hope for survival a man as brutal as the storm that nearly killed her? The life of Roark Thibault has been ruled by violence. As the enforcer for an NHL hockey team, he’s a master at his craft, laying waste to anyone who crosses his path with a viciousness that has earned him both fear and respect. But a career-ending knee injury has made him question everything. Choosing solitude, he resides in a remote cabin set deep in the Alaskan wilderness. While hunting, he runs across a gorgeous, unconscious, half-frozen skier. Sabine Borgia is

Latitude 59

Christine Edwards

Fanny Press

PO Box 70515

Seattle, WA 98127

For more information go to: www.fannypress.com
www.christineedwardsauthor.com

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Cover design by Sabrina Sun

Latitude 59

Copyright © 2016 by Christine Edwards

ISBN: 978-1-60381-572-7 (Trade Paper)

ISBN: 978-1-60381-573-4 (eBook)

Produced in the United States of America

* * *

For Dove,
lover of snow and all animals

You inspire everyone around you, my beautiful angel.

* * *

SPECIAL THANKS

To all of the brave adventure skiers out there, who know the risks, yet still tackle the slopes anyway. You rock.

To Catherine and Jennifer at Fanny Press, big hugs.

To everyone who hits the ground running each and every morning. Your passion is remarkable.

* * *

Prologue

10:06 a.m.

Mount Harding

Alaska

Elevation: 5,171 Feet

The infinite sea of white stuff is rising up to meet us as if it’s been patiently expecting our arrival. The thunderous whir from the helicopter’s overhead rotors seems to vibrate right through my bones. Aldo and Ben are across from me shifting restlessly in their seats, and from their eager expressions they’ve already mentally unbuckled their harnesses. They’re practically salivating to get their skis down onto that pristine, virgin powder.

Our mountain guide Jake stands up and shouts loudly across to me, “Up you go, Sabine. Ladies first around these parts!”

I nod to him and unclick the five-point latch that holds me pinned against my red-vinyl seat. I snap the buckle hooks closed on my ski boots and cautiously move across the narrow body of the chopper until I reach the long black metal basket. He’s busy loading my skis inside, glancing up to yell, “Step in slowly and take a seat!”

I stare nervously over at my cousin, who calls out encouragingly, “You’re in the hands of trained professionals, Sabine. Drink it in! It’ll go quickly. See you below.”

Jake offers his hand as I lower myself down into a seated position. The rigid metal offers zero comfort as I try hard to hold my rampant nerves in check.

Don’t look out. Do. Not. Look. Breathe.

Jake yells, “Hold tight to those chains and don’t watch the cable above you. Focus on the ground. We’ll be on the mountain before you know it!”

He sits opposite me, does a final safety check and gives his partner Neil a thumbs up.

As if in slow motion, Neil pushes the basket out over the edge of the open door.

I try to crack a joke, desperate to ease my fear, “If my grip was any tighter, my fingers would fuse together.”

He grins as if it’s just another sunny walk in the park. The arcing blades are kicking up a furious wind, causing us to sway hard. I do my best to reassure myself, thinking that even if the cable snapped, we’re not that far off the ground now and we’d certainly make it. Wouldn’t we? At least the helmets would help ….

“Beautiful, right?”

Jake’s staring across at me and I go for it, taking a long, appreciative look around.

The peak is a glorious pure white, proudly reaching up toward a boundless blue sky, “Very. It’s stunning.”

A huge billow of snow gushes up as the rectangular basket plops down in a harsh jolt from the uneven weight distribution. I sigh in relief that we’re safe and in a flash he’s up and out, removing my skis and helping me up.

The powder is swirling all around us from the overhead chopper as he tells me quickly, pointing to his right, “Okay, Sabine, here’s your gear. I want you to wait over there by that tree. Less wind.”

“Got it!”

I take my lime-green Atomics and ski poles from him and trudge the hundred feet over toward the towering tree. Turning around, I’m impressed that he’s already heading back up to the hovering chopper. These guys definitely know their stuff. It only takes a minute before Neil is pulling him back inside. I watch from a distance as he preps Aldo for the exact same ride.

When my cousin first suggested a heli-skiing trip, I was excited but concerned that I might not be able to afford it, especially since it was only a few weeks after Christmas. He assured me that he’d found an established mountain guide organization online. It was based out of Skagway, Alaska, highly rated, and offered all-in-one packages. I hopped online to research and verify the details before telling him I was in. That was three weeks ago and now here we are, at the peak of a monster mountain, the gleaming slope practically calling out for us to take on the challenge.

We met Jake and Neil yesterday when they picked us up from the miniscule Skagway airport after the flight from Montana. From there we traveled to their office to sign several consent waivers before participating in a ninety-minute ‘Worst case scenario’ survival class. We were reassured that animal attacks and avalanches were extremely rare, but still a frightening possibility in this region. Everyone was issued a locator beacon and a small metal shovel that slides down vertically into our backpacks, both mandatory equipment for anyone on a heli-ski tour.

Aldo rushes toward me, breathless and pumped, “Is this not badass, Sabine? I mean, look at this place! Hell, it’s a million times better than I’d imagined, and we haven’t even taken a single run yet. And weather permitting, if this storm holds off, then we’re set for three more lifts up the mountain today. Gotta get this on video; my buddies back home will lose their minds. Here, mind holding my gloves for a sec?”

I shake my head and laugh as he hands them over and fishes out his cell to begin recording, first the chopper that’s beginning to lower Ben down, then a sweep of the mountain. Aldo’s the most talented skier I know, nearly making the cut for the Aspen X games this past season. His specialty is tricks and jumps. I’m always in awe watching as he goes for big air, flipping backwards, skis in a cross as he brings his entire body around to land like it was nothing.

We both check our gear for the tenth time and clip on our skis, not wanting to waste a second once the helicopter leaves.

“Damn, that was epic!” Ben shouts, his graffiti-effect snowboard held tight in hand. He shoves it down into the snow and high-fives Aldo.

Jake jogs over to us, calling out loudly, “Okay, nearly ready, just a final safety check. Turn around. I need to see that your beacons are transmitting.”

He checks each one, along with the position of our shovels.

“Next, we just started giving clients a satellite phone to carry. Some mobile phone carriers have a signal this far up the mountain, but in case yours doesn’t, I’m giving this to Ben, because he has the most room in his bag. I want you to stick close together and have an awesome time, but also to be safe. Remember everything that we went over yesterday. In the worst-case scenario of an avalanche, if you freeze up, just force yourself to do two things—race for the sides, where it is less likely to cover you, and do everything in your power to stay on top of the slide and grab for something—a branch, a tree trunk, anything. Got it?”

Nervously, I speak up, asking, “Do you have a feeling with all this new snow that we’re going to have some kind of problem, Jake?”

He smacks my shoulder lightly, “Hey, listen, Sabine, I would never put you up here if I thought that. I give this speech every time I drop clients. And we’ve had hundreds of happy customers in the past five years. Safety and survival are what we’re all about. That’s why we’ve gone ahead and refunded you for tomorrow. There’s no way anyone will be out in the monster blizzard they’re calling for. All right, we’ll rendezvous at the base. Aldo has the map if you have any issues, but the path is pretty straightforward. Our number is stamped into the base of the sat phone. Call if you need us, even with a basic question. We’ll be looking out for you. Everyone good?”

We nod and watch him race back to the crimson and white helicopter. The pilot has kept it in an unfaltering hover, probably not an easy task.

We’re busy adjusting our packs and neck gators for the last time when Ben asks, “So, who’s heading down first?”

Aldo teases, “Easy, the one who’s geared up … and that would be me. See ya at the bottom!”

He drops, gliding smoothly down the face, skis leaving an ‘S’ pattern in their wake before we can reply.

“That bastard! C’mon, ready Sabine?”

I pull down my Spy Optic goggles and shout, “Good to go, let’s move!”

We both take off, crisscrossing each other’s paths with ease, as the flakes shimmer like diamonds beneath our waxed edges.

We’ve nearly caught up to Aldo when we hear it: the inhuman roar comes out of nowhere, yet is suddenly all around us. Terrified, I keep moving but look up, thinking maybe the helicopter has circled back for some reason, but the sky is empty; it’s long gone. Aldo’s turning back, his face a mask of horror as he screams, “Go! Go! Dear God!”

Only one thing could elicit that sound, causing the ground to quake and give way, making it feel like we’re surfing. Likely the most macabre word in the dictionary—‘avalanche.’

“Sides! Sides!” I scream to them, knowing my shouts are falling on deaf ears because the booming sound is everywhere. I’m doing everything in my power to ride it, desperate to stay upright, petrified of being buried alive beneath tons of snow.

Aldo and I are both heading to the left, when off to the right Ben goes down, gone in the blink of an eye. I scream for him, losing one of my poles as the thunderous snow rages around us. I’ve nearly made it to the trees when a huge weight that feels like a concrete boulder smashes into the back of my knees, knocking me down with the force of a bull on a rampage. My skis are ripped from my feet and I’m twisted around then flipped over onto my stomach, speeding face first down the steep incline.

“Noooo!”

I look down and reach out for the only object coming my way that isn’t white: the long branch of an evergreen is closing in on me hard and fast. I manage to grab the center of the thing as a tidal wave of snow threatens to cover me. I lift my head, knowing that as long as I can breathe, I have a fighting chance. My goggles are coated with snow and ice, making it seem like I’m staring through a foggy, frozen fish bowl when as suddenly as it began, everything stops. Like it had never happened. The world around us is eerily silent. I sob in relief that I wasn’t killed. It takes only seconds for the emotion to turn into white-hot panic as I realize that the guys are nowhere to be seen. I slowly lift my goggles on top of my helmet, astounded that it has miraculously stayed on my head. I stand and take a tentative step, only to stagger sideways, dizzy from being tossed around so violently.

All right, keep it together and shout for them ….

“Ben! Aldo! Can you hear me?”

Somewhere off to my left, deeper inside the tree line, a low groan starts up.

“I’m coming! Keep making noise!”

My legs are shaky and uncoordinated as I stumble toward the awful sounds that are merging into a wail of agony.

I recognize the gray and yellow jacket; one side is half buried in the snow.

Reaching him, I drop down to my knees, fearful of what I’m about to see.

“Hey, I’m here, Aldo, talk to me.”

“Holy fuck! My hip’s gotta be shattered or somethin’, ’cause it hurts so damn bad. Shit! Sabine, quick, get the sat phone and call for help.”

I begin to unzip his pack. He groans, “No, remember? Ben has it! Get him to call. Fucking hurry, I’m about to pass out! Fuuuck!”

“I … okay! Do your best to stay conscious. I came over to you first. I have to go and try to find him.”

He screeches, “What? Hurry! He could be covered by that shit, losing oxygen as we speak!”

My mind blanks in terror as a surge of adrenaline shoots through my body.

“My pack was torn off. I’m taking your shovel.”

“Just find him. Hurry, Sabine!”

I pull out the two-foot-long tool and rush, lightheaded, back to the face of the slope.

Nothing but white. Everywhere. Oh no! No, no, no!

“Ben! Ben, where are you? Ben!” I yell frantically at the top of my lungs as I scan the lumpy aftermath. Then I see it—three lone pieces of red fabric poking out of the snow.

Oh my God … buried alive.

Falling twice in my manic attempt to get to him I finally make it and start plunging the shovel in, removing as much snow as I can as quickly as possible. It seems like forever before I reach him, cringing as the steel edge strikes his torso. I toss the shovel aside and start digging like a dog, knowing that he’s got to be out of air by now. I cry out when I see his hat and long hair. I shove more of the snow away, and he gasps and starts coughing.

I continue to dig him out; he’s trembling all over and can’t stop the gag-coughing. By the time he can roll onto his side, I have sweat dripping into my eyes, mixing with the tears that are tracking down my numb cheeks.

I touch his shoulder, “Ben?”

He’s still trembling like a leaf when he says shakily, “Cupped my free hand around my mouth, just like Jake told us yesterday. Bought me just enough air. Was startin’ to pass out.”

He struggles to sit up and starts crying.

I rub his back, wanting to soothe him, “Shh, it’s all right. We’ve all made it. Ben, I have to call for help, Aldo is hurt badly. I need the phone.”

“Yeah, sure.”

He reaches for the strap of his cross-body style backpack and despair washes over his face. It’s gone.

Aldo’s screams are coming from the trees and I try to sound brave, “It’s okay. Hey, do you have your cell on you? Jake said it might work up here.”

“Yeah, yeah, right here. He slowly unzips his coat and reaches into his chest pocket. What he pulls out is a crushed rectangle. He tries to turn it on, but we both know it’s futile.

“Aldo has one. Let’s see if his is in any better shape. Can you stand, Ben?”

“I think so.”

He tries to get up but when he is almost standing, he falls like a lead weight.

“Agh! Motherfucker! My ankle!”

God. Think! Stay calm, Sabine … reassure him help is on the way.

“Ben, Aldo still has his beacon on; they’re likely searching for us as we speak. I know it’s going to be a challenge but I have to get back to Aldo, and I can’t leave you here. You’re going to have to crawl over with me, okay?”

He’s gritting his teeth and holding onto his ankle. “Yeah.”

“Just follow me. Take your time; the worst is over.” At least I hope so.

I trudge back across the snow as fast as my ski boots will allow, winding my way though the vivid green trees toward Aldo. I try to mask my shock when I reach him. He’s deathly pale and has broken into a profuse sweat. He’s far quieter now and I resist the urge to look beneath his clothing, knowing I have no medical training and no matter what I find, there’s nothing I can do about it.

“Help is coming for you, Aldo, just try and lie still.”

I search his pockets, finding another crushed screen. I try it anyhow. Success! It’s still functioning.

“Aldo, what’s your code?”

He moans, “Three-eight-seven-three.”

My hopes are annihilated when I see the ‘No service’ signal illuminated in blue at the top left corner.

Damn it!

I turn back and shake my head at Ben, who is dragging himself toward us. “No service.”

I open Aldo’s pack and take out the flashing transmitter. Handing the beacon over to Ben, I tell him, “Guard this with your life and if possible, do your best to keep him warm.”

“What! Where are you going?”

“I’m taking the map and am heading to the bottom for help. Right now.”

“No way, that’s insane! You even said they’ll come for us. The beacon is a radio signal, and they have to have seen or at least heard that avalanche.”

“Ben, we won’t survive the night out here. The temps are way too low. I’m not going to sit here while you two are in pain, and every second wasted could have dire consequences.” We both stare at Aldo. “I’m getting down to that base to make damn sure someone knows about us.”

“All right, Sabine, but don’t get lost. Do your best to follow the course we had planned. I hope that avalanche didn’t fuck the terrain up so badly that you can’t find your way.”

“You and me both. And Ben?”

“Yeah?”

“Please keep him alive. You know how much he means to me.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“I’m going to stake your board down in the snow just outside of these trees to give them a colored visual.”

“That’s good. Hold up, Sabine, do you want to try and ride it?”

“Can’t. Wrong boots and the bindings are set for your much larger feet. It would never stay on. Stay strong and I’ll see you both soon.”

He gives me a serious look. “Be careful.”

“I will.”

With the map clutched in my glove like a lifeline, I slide my crystal-flecked goggles back down onto my numb face, bound and determined to find help, knowing that every second is absolutely critical in this grim scenario. If I fail we’re likely all doomed.

Chapter One

Storm Front

Got you now… I have the caribou lined up beautifully in the scope of my crossbow, and just when I’m about to send the deadly arrow flying in his direction, he tenses then bolts off in a blur, disappearing deep into the forest before I have a chance to take the kill shot.

I lower my weapon, rip my hat off my head and throw it to the ground, snarling, “Son of a bitch! You lucky fucking bastard!”

Then I hear it, the unmistakable mechanical hum of a chopper closing in. It’s flying low, swooping right up the side of the mountain.

Thanks a lot, asshole. Took me all day to track that caribou.

The winter storm has already begun, kicking the snow up into near whiteout conditions. I thought I could use it to my advantage to track the beast, and had it not been for that fucking tourist taxi, I would’ve had my prize. Guess it will make next time around that much sweeter. I’ll get you on my grill you before spring. Count on it. I’ve yet to take down a caribou, and it’s high on my priority list. Patience has never been a trait of mine. Time to head back. The boys are probably lonely by now. I try never to leave them longer than a four- or five-hour stretch, and it’s closing in on that now.

I’m just about to head for my truck when I happen to glance one more time in the direction of my elusive prey. That’s when I see it—an odd color that definitely doesn’t belong in nature. I sling the padded strap of my weapon over my right shoulder and walk toward the immobile object, more curious than anything. When I’m about twenty feet away, I lock up, realizing that the turquoise and silver mass on the ground is a human being, a small woman. From the looks of her ice-coated braids she’s been out here a while.

“Goddamn it!”

I sprint the rest of the way, thinking that she must be dead or close to it, alone out here in these brutal conditions.

“Hey! Hey, lady!”

Nothing.

I reach the body, dropping to my knees at her side. Pulling the curled-up ball into my lap, I tear my glove off with my teeth, lift her face, and press my fingers to her neck, feeling for a pulse. It’s faint as hell, but it’s there. She’s alive. But not for long if I don’t do something fast.

“Hold on for me! Don’t you go dying on me today, you hear me?”

The unconscious woman stays motionless as I unlatch her helmet. The fuzzy white hat she wears underneath looks relatively dry so I leave it on her. I unzip my hunting coat and pull her against my chest, pressing her face tightly against my sweater as I ease back up to my feet. I’m doing everything I can think of to warm her until I can get us both back to the truck.

Clutching her tight, I race back the way I came, tracking through my earlier footprints as her heavy ski boots crash against my right hip. It hurts like a motherfucker, but I ignore it and trudge faster, dodging trees, struggling not to pitch us face first into the deep snow.

My thighs are burning when I finally spy the flash of navy through the thick trees.

Nearly there ….

I push hard, frustrated that I can’t move faster. After what seems like hours, we finally reach the Tahoe. I’m sucking in huge gulps of air as I set her down, pinning her between me and the cab so I can get to my keys. I pull the door open and pick her back up, sliding her in as gently as possible before slamming the door shut. I toss my gear into the backseat and hop in to crank up the engine. I pull my gloves off and blast the heater, hoping it will help.

Don’t kid yourself, maybe she’s already too far gone ….

Her lips and cheeks are bluish white. I shove the truck into drive and haul ass toward the docks, desperate to get us on the ferry to Dahl Memorial Clinic, the only urgent care facility around. The nearest hospital is a hundred miles south of us in Juneau and with this approaching blizzard it’s unlikely we’d make it.

It’s a white-knuckle ride to the docks, my truck skidding to a stop as I jump out and lock the unconscious woman safely inside. There are no roads leading into Skagway; you can only access it by ferry or airplane. That’s both the beauty and the curse of living out here in the wild.

The overhead chime rings loudly as I shove hard against the glass door. The scrawny teenager with the green baseball cap looks up from his computer monitor. He’s wide-eyed, and before he can say a word, I state bluntly, “Need to get on that ferry, got a half-dead girl in the front seat of my truck.” I hike a thumb in her direction.

He leans to the left, glancing around me and shaking his head. He tells me nervously, “Wish I could help you out, man, but we shut down all service to Skagway over an hour ago. Even emergencies. The national weather service is callin’ for the blizzard of the century.”

His chair rolls back several feet as I slam my palms on the desk and growl across at him, “You aren’t understanding me. I can’t have this woman die on me. Now get that fuckin’ ferry in gear!”

Stunned, he shakes his head hesitantly. “Listen, buddy, I want to help you out, really do, but the captain’s already gone home. We’re closing the office up in five minutes.” His brow furrows. “Wait, she’s not one of the missing heli-skiers they’ve been searching for all day, is she?”

“Hell if I know. Found her close to the base of Mt. Harding.”

“Must be her then,” he mutters.

I contemplate leaving her here, but what if they close down the roads soon and she’s stuck with this mental genius looking out for her? No way.

I practically snarl, “Fine. I’ll handle it.”

I turn and punch open the annoying door, ignoring him as he yells after me, “Hey, hold up, aren’t you ….”

The door closes before he gets the name out.

As we drive up, the boys are barking like crazy, eager to get out of their pen and back into the warmth of the house for a meal. After the treacherous drive I feel like I need ten shots of bourbon. Even with the 4WD on, the truck slid twice and nearly got stuck in a deep drift that had piled up on a narrow bend in the road. I can’t believe we’ve made it. The front porch light is still on and I hope that we don’t lose power over the next couple of days. I put the Tahoe into park and hold tight to the steering wheel. She’s leaning against the passenger door, still out cold but alive, and as far as I’m concerned, that’s a victory.

I get out and round the front grill to trudge through the two-foot-deep snow outside the passenger door. I have to snake one arm inside a narrow opening to brace her; otherwise she’ll topple out onto me. Once I have her securely in my arms, she makes her first sound, a barely audible moan of distress. I stop dead in my tracks and watch her, thinking she might open her eyes at any second. Soon I realize the sound must have been involuntary; maybe she’s delirious. Who knows what hell she fought through to end up where I found her.

I open the door. There’s no need to lock it; my closest neighbor is five miles due west. Aside from the realtor who I bought the cabin from seven months back, she’s the first woman who’s stepped foot in this place.

I carry her over to the sectional and carefully lay her down on the longest part before tackling those annoying boots she has on. I’m thinking, Yeah, those just fucking suck, lady.

I practically have to pry them off because chunks of ice are wedged down into the padding. I silently hope she doesn’t have frostbite. If she does, I’ll have to get online asap to see what can be done about it. I peel one sock off and find another thick wool one beneath. Smart girl. That decision might have just saved your feet. I take the interior sock off and find her skin and toes are pinkish white, warm to the touch. They look healthy. The nails are painted pink and her feet are small and delicate just like everything else I can see on her. I slowly release her foot and stare down at the wood, mentally shaking off the uncomfortable stirrings of attraction. As quickly as possible I remove her other boot and socks and check that the other foot is in good shape.

I pause before slipping off her ski gloves, not sure if I’m ready for what I might find. From playing hockey outside most of my childhood, I know firsthand that the fingers are the first to show the ravages of frostbite. Slowly I pull off the left one, hoping that the curled-up position I found her in kept her extremities from bearing the brunt of the cold. The tips are an unnatural shade of white and I hiss out a low curse, hoping like hell she doesn’t have hypothermia and maybe even early-stage frostbite.

I decide to look up the symptoms online. After wrapping her in a thick quilt, I stand up and look her over, making sure that everything but her face is covered. Not enough. I rush over to the hall closet and pull out a spare quilt from the shelf, thinking that it couldn’t hurt. I hurry back to where she’s lying motionless, snap the thing open, and after peeling off her damp jacket, drape it over her.

Then I cross to my desk and fire up the laptop.

I punch in ‘Hypothermia treatment’ and wait.

“Come on, come on ….”

I scan the suggestions on Web MD. Heat her core first, avoid rubbing the hands and feet so she doesn’t go into shock, remove all wet clothing. Keep the person warm. Okay, got this covered. I’ll check her fingers again in a few minutes and do more research if needed.

Next up, phone the cops. I use the landline because my mobile service is normally spotty and with the way this storm is beginning to rage, why even fucking bother? I search the number for the Skagway Sheriff’s Department. Staring at the screen, I punch the digits into the phone. The dogs are going insane in their pen, but they’ll have to hold tight for just a few more minutes.

A gruff male voice answers, “Skagway Sheriff’s Office; this is Rick speaking.”

“Hey, I’m calling to report finding a girl late this afternoon near the base of Mt. Harding. I think she might be the heli-skier that went missing.”

Silence. Then, “She’s alive?” The stunned voice on the line sounds on edge but hopeful.

“Yeah, she’s alive. Half frozen and still knocked out, but alive.”

“Can you get her to town?”

“Tried, but I live on the mountain and the ferry stopped running by the time we got there.”

“Is she with you now?”

“She is, yes.”

“I need your name and number in case we become disconnected.”

Here we go.

“It’s Roark Thibault and my number is—”

He cuts me off, asking angrily, “Is this some kind of a sick joke?”

“Excuse me?”

“You said your name’s Roark Thibault?”

“I did, yeah, so what?”

Silence, then, “Roark Thibault, the enforcer from the Edmonton Oilers?”

Fuck.

I reply sternly, “This is Roark Thibault, the former enforcer from the Oilers. If you watch your damn hockey, then you know I no longer play.”

“Well, I’ll be goddamned! Saw that final game of yours last season and I gotta say that player should be in jail for what he did to your knee. Criminal. Never knew you had a place up here. Must be a bit of a hunter then, huh?”

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to get my anger in check. I want nothing more than to slam down the phone. Repeatedly. Until it’s in shards. Instead I steady my voice. Ignoring his last question, I give him my address and home number as calmly as possible. Finally I say, “When will you send someone to get her?”

“Whoa, there, Mr. Thibault. First we need to call off the search. You know we’re expecting over twenty-six inches, right?”

“I’ve heard.” Dumbass.

“So we’ll do our best, but emergencies take priority right now, and even then, just like you, we can’t get to your cabin when the ferry’s not running. Only the chopper could get to your place right now, and they made the final sweep for her thirty minutes ago—had to pull them back in due to the dangerous weather. Got a few of our mountaineering trackers still up there on snowmobiles now; we’ll need to contact them as soon as you and I disconnect. Safety above all else. You can appreciate that, I’m sure. Besides, if anyone is capable of keeping Miss Borgia safe in this violent storm, it’s you.”

“Miss Borgia?”

“Yup. Sabine Borgia. Strange name, I know.”

Beautiful name.

“Oh, and one last thing … when she wakes up, tell her that the companions she was skiing with were both airlifted over to Anchorage. One of them—think it’s the cousin—might not make it. Pretty gruesome injuries, but I’d hold back on telling her those details if I were you. Gotta relay this info to the men now. We’ll be in touch.”

“Wait! Hold up. What happened to them up on the mountain?”

“Avalanche. Not a big one, but enough to do damage.”

With that, the line goes dead, and I’m left gripping the phone in my hand. I glance uneasily over my shoulder to stare across at the sleeping girl named Sabine. I’m tempted to try and wake her but decide to head out and tend to the dogs first. I need time to think about the best way to handle my new guest. Hell, I can’t remember the last time I even spoke to a woman—maybe the waitress at the diner a couple of weeks back and even then, she sure as shit didn’t look anything like this girl.

After closing the front door, I look down and see that I’ve left my gloves inside, but I can’t be bothered to go back in. The cold air is a relief compared to the nearly stifling situation going down in my living room. I head over to the dogs’ long wire pen located on the side of the cabin. They’re both standing on their hind legs, straining against the fence with their paws—their way of greeting me.

“Hey, boys, you’ve been keeping watch today?”

Two sets of arctic blue malamute eyes stare across at me expectantly as I unlock the gate.

“C’mon, then.”

They hop down and nearly trip over each other in a frantic attempt to get to me. Gauge leaps up first, going for the paws-on-chest body bump.

“All right, big boy, I got ya.”

I stroke his furry head and push him back, bending to give the same attention to his pup, Flynn.

“What’s happenin’, little dude?”

At a hundred and ten pounds, Flynn’s hardly ‘little.’ He goes for the epic tail wag-a-thon, the snow flying all around him as he whirls around in fast, tight circles. As usual, they both follow right on my heels as I step onto the porch to gather some wood that’s stacked beneath a green tarp.

Before we head in, I turn to stare at both dogs, giving them a stern, “Behave.”

Gauge cocks his head like he’s trying to understand, while Flynn’s eyes just sparkle with puppy joy.

This should be interesting ….

The door opens and they nose past my legs, nearly knocking me off balance to get to her. They sniff all over the blankets, curious to examine the new arrival in their home.

I stack the logs in the leather sling and give a low whistle, calling them over so they’ll stop bothering her. They’re both reluctant but finally trot over toward me. The commotion seems to have worked, and I watch as she slowly comes to. I decide to act busy, reaching for the lighter and fire poker, determined not to look like some pervert who’s hovering over an unconscious, defenseless female.

I position a few logs and light the kindling beneath them. As I push the dry sticks around with the poker, I listen closely to the rustling of the blankets behind me. Hesitantly, I turn around and inhale a sharp breath. Pale blue eyes, so light that they have an otherworldly quality, are eying me warily. They’re framed by long, pure black lashes. Twin dark braids fall nearly to her waist, her hat having slipped off in her sleep.

I thought she was beautiful unconscious. I didn’t have a fucking clue ….

Chapter Two

Waiting Game

Cracking and popping noises jolt me awake. My eyes fly open and my first reaction is that I must be dreaming, because I’m toasty warm and staring straight up at a vaulted ceiling made entirely of wood. My muscles are in agony as I struggle against the confines of the heavy blankets that encompass me. Slight movement catches my eye, my head turns, and I instinctively hold my breath.

I’m not alone ….

My blood is thundering in my ears as I stare across at the towering man. He’s facing the fireplace, and as I try to sit up, he turns to face me, a menacing steel poker gripped tightly in his thick right fist.

I stare at him in frozen horror. The two words that come to mind are ‘fierce’ and ‘intimidating.’ I’ve never seen a man like him before today and likely never will again. His hair, which brushes the tops of his wide shoulders, is light brown streaked with blond, the former matching his full beard. But it’s his eyes—big, skeptical eyes the color of deep, dark espresso—that bore straight into me.

Seconds tick by and he doesn’t move, much less utter a word, just continues to stare. Two mammoth furry dogs are splayed out at his feet and when I finally manage to breathe, I eke out a nervous, barely audible rasp, “Who are you?”

He hesitates a moment and finally says in a low bass voice, “The guy who found you. Name’s Roark.”

I blink and ask slowly, “Found me?”

“Yeah. You hurt?”

Everything comes back in a rush—the accident, the hours of trekking in the wind and cold. Once the snow clouds rolled in, everything took a turn for the worse, becoming close to unbearable; that’s about the time it all went hazy.

I croak out a desperate plea, “I’m all right, just really sore. Please, can I use your phone? My friends … they’re still lost. I … I have to call for help immediately … before it’s too late.”

Showing no emotion, he tells me evenly, “Take it easy, lady. Just phoned the sheriff. Your cousin and buddy are safe in a hospital over in Anchorage.”

The flood of relief is too much. I try to choke back the sobs but fail miserably. The tears are dripping off my chin as I swipe my face and mumble, “Are you sure? They’re really alive?”

“As of an hour ago, yeah. You’re safe now, so relax.”

“Thank you, for what you did—saving me up there, I mean.” The gratitude comes out awkwardly.

He watches me with those penetrating eyes but stays silent.

“I’d like to get in touch with my parents.”

He points over to a desk that’s nestled against a sweeping wall of windows. “Phone’s over there, have at it. You want somethin’ to eat?”

“No, no thanks. I’m really thirsty though.”

He blinks and walks away. I listen and hear a refrigerator door open then slam somewhere off inside the cabin. His heavy boots make his footsteps boom throughout the place. I pull the rest of the quilts away, slip my socks on, and sit up, Indian style. When he enters the living room again, he keeps his distance. I watch him place the large, ice-cold glass of water down on the knotted wood coffee table that separates us. I stare at it, watching the rivulets begin to run down the sides, lit from behind by the roaring fire.

I’ve never felt so uncomfortable around someone in my entire life.

“Thanks,” I murmur, reaching out for the glass. He says nothing and turns on his heel to leave the room, giving another whistle that prompts the pair of black and white dogs to follow him.

I do my best to steady my hands as I take a long, shaky drink.

So good … more.

I try to pace myself, not wanting to choke. From the looks of it, he’d choose a long swim in an icy river over giving me CPR. Whatever, at least the three of us are alive to tell the tale. Assuming this warrior of a man is telling me the truth, then the police know where I am and should be on their way, hopefully arriving any minute now.

* * *

I close the bedroom door and press my back up against it, grimacing at the awkward encounter with the beautiful girl.

That went real smooth …. She looked at you like she was scared out of her mind, like you were some kind of monster. She might come unglued when she finds out we’re likely to be stuck here together for several days.

I’m beginning to second-guess my decision to bring her here. She might have been better off stuck at the ferry office with stoner boy. The dogs are lying on the floor, staring at me expectantly.

I point at them and say, “Stay put.”

I cross into the bathroom, turn the shower on, and shed my layers. Once inside the open stone enclosure, I groan as the hot spray rains down on my skin. I scrub all over before tackling my hair with a handful of shampoo. My thoughts stray to the woman alone downstairs. She likely thinks I’m nothing more than a rude asshole, taking off on her like that, but the living room felt stifling and I had to regroup before facing her again. I’ve always been shy around women, as opposed to my killer instinct on the ice. I scrub my face and beard, remembering how shocked I was by her beauty.

There were dozens of ‘tens’ who lingered outside the locker room after every single game, looking for play and a sucker to fund their flamboyant lifestyles, but I never gave a fuck about any of them, not even after losing Hannah. I’ve been completely tuned out for the past several years in that department. No one gets a second look. But there’s something about this girl that I can’t put my finger on. Sure she’s jaw-dropping hot; that’s a given. She has that rare combination of ivory skin, long, nearly raven-black hair and pale eyes I’ve always found sexy. Hell, I haven’t even seen her body yet, and my cock is throbbing insanely just imagining it. Her quiet, sultry voice echoes in my mind.

Fuck, it’s going to be an agonizing weekend.

I snap a towel off the heated rack and go to town, first on my body then my mess of hair. Securing the fabric around my waist, I brush my teeth, swipe a circle in the fogged-up glass, and plant both hands down flat on the countertop.

I stare across at my scarred up face and torso. The beard does its job of hiding most of the shit on my face, with the exception of the thick white gash on my upper lip and the arcing mess along my left eyebrow. The worst is the jagged beauty running along my left pec, courtesy of some random douchebag’s razor-sharp blade that caught me just below my shoulder gear. That one sent me to the ER for ninety tidy stitches and several rounds of antibiotics. There are countless others on my legs and back that I never give a second thought about, yet here I stand, wondering silently why I give a rat’s ass about what a stranger might think of my fucked-up body.

I turn away in disgust and head back into the bedroom in search of fresh clothes, realizing that I need to get in gear and make us something to eat. Who knows when she had her last meal, and my stomach is rumbling too. I stab my legs into a pair of jeans, pull a thermal over my head, and plop down on the bed to shove my feet into a pair of thick wool socks before heading back downstairs.

I feel much better now that I have some sort of a plan for tonight. Hitting the top step, I stop and stare out the wall of windows across from me at the ominous sight. The blizzard is causing a total whiteout, and it’s likely we’re gonna lose power later this evening. I need to get dinner made and take care of preparations fast.

* * *

I watch him hit the bottom step, looking way more relaxed and less brooding than he did earlier. My eyes roam his face, looking him over, really drinking him in for the first time. He is arrestingly handsome, the way a battle-scarred warrior might be. The shades of blond and brown in his hair offer a striking contrast with those penetrating, dark eyes. He moves closer and I catch myself staring hard. I’m standing by the fire, palms out, savoring the wonderful heat it’s throwing off when he says in his rich, smooth voice, “I’m gonna fix us somethin’ to eat. You can hang out here or come into the kitchen. Oh, and this is Gauge and the smaller guy’s Flynn.”

The dogs look happy and well cared for. “Are they huskies?” I ask.

He rumbles, “Malamutes.”

I try to be friendly, offering, “Wow, I thought we had large dogs back in Montana, but they’re nothing compared to these guys.”

“You should see how much they eat. ’Bout to feed them now. Come on. I’ll show you around the place to get you better oriented.”

I glance over at the door. I’ve kept my eyes pinned to it for the last thirty minutes, watching the glass for any sign of headlights coming through the snow down the steep, winding drive.

“Uh,” I say, “maybe I should just wait out here. That wind is making a horrible racket; we might not hear the police knock. I spoke to my parents and they’re eager to see me. My aunt and uncle are already on a flight headed to Anchorage to be there for my cousin post-surgery.”

He looks uncomfortable, like someone forced to dish out awful news. My heart begins to race, and I’m plagued with scary thoughts. What if nothing he said was true? What if nobody knows I’m here at all? I didn’t have an address or even a phone number to give my parents—just a first name that may or may not be real. Jesus, I hope my dad is savvy enough to save the number I called from.

I take a sliding step backwards in my socks, unable to quell my mounting anxiety as he says, “I’m not sure how to tell you this, lady, so I’ll just be blunt. There’s an epic storm going on outside and this is only the front end of it. The cops promised that they’d come for you, but as it stands, right now I’d be lucky to get my Tahoe a hundred feet down the road. Trust me when I tell you that it’s only gonna get a lot worse later tonight. So I’m sorry, but you’re stuck here until further notice. And fuck, please stop looking at me like that. I’m not some serial killer who’s out to hurt you. Never harmed a woman in my life.”

My heart drops into my stomach as I stare at the frightening man who’s formidable presence seems to take up a large portion of the vast room.

“I’m sorry. I want to trust you—I do. It’s just that the accident and all this is completely foreign to me and well, you’re, ah, I’m not sure how to put it, intimidating.”

“Intimidating? Are you serious?”

I shake my head, frustrated. “No, please, it wasn’t an insult; it’s just … I’m sure you’re a nice man ….”

I stop mid-sentence because he looks annoyed at my weak attempt to explain how being alone with a man of his sheer size scares the shit out of me. Change the subject, Sabine!

“How long do you think before I can get out of here?’

He shrugs. “Hard to say. I’ve got plenty of wood and loads of food so you’re gonna be fine until this mess lets up. Got a grocery delivery just yesterday. The store owner puts in lots of fresh stuff, hoping I’ll eat my vegetables. Anything else?”

I stare down at my feet, distraught. “No, that’s it.”

He disappears into the interior of the cabin and reality slams home. Trapped. I’m stuck here with this sexy, moody stranger. Indefinitely. Nothing to do but make the best of a puzzling situation. But it could be worse—a hell of a lot worse—because if it weren’t for the pure kindness of the man in the next room, I’d be dead right now or so frost-bitten that there could be no full recovery. At this moment it all clicks into place. My intuition tells me that he’s a protector, and until he shows me otherwise, that is how I will treat him—as a gentle protector. I resolve to show my gratitude. I just hope he’s willing to accept it.

Chapter Three

Ride it Out

I figured he wouldn’t mind if I used the downstairs bathroom; he definitely gives off a ‘Fend for yourself’ kind of vibe, which is fine by me. I flip on the light and jerk back at the sight before me in the mirror. My face looks like it’s sunburned; the wind and brutal cold have done a number on my skin. Hey, suck it up girl, at least your ears and nose aren’t falling off from frostbite right now! I’ve always been cautious when I ski, wearing multiple, quality layers, knowing it’s the best way to trap body heat.

My hands get so cold. I remember Aldo laughing at me this morning over coffee at the tiny inn. He and Ben watched in disbelief as I broke open a pair of HotHands hand warmers and slipped them into the zippered pockets of my gloves. The air-activated warmers are likely the reason my fingertips are still okay at the moment. I lean in and wash my hands before pulling off my Spyder wool top layer, leaving me in only a fitted baby-blue long-sleeved top. Next up I tackle my disastrous hair. There’s no brush in sight and I’m not in the mood to ask Mr. Cordial, so I do the best I can, unraveling the disheveled plaits and finger-combing the mess into some semblance of order. I pull the length over one shoulder, letting the thick mass hang down below the left side of my chest.

I wonder how he sees you ….

I push the thought away, deciding that it’s irrelevant. The guy’s fairly anti-social and who knows if he might be in a relationship or not. Still, he’s fascinating to watch. The entire space seems to vibrate with his energy whenever he’s near. I’d like a closer look at him because the full beard and long hair unfortunately hides a lot of what’s visible. His powerful body, even fully clothed, is beyond impressive. He looks as if he might build canoes … after chopping down the trees by hand. My sex begins to throb at the thought of him on top of me, driving into me with that toned body ….

“Oh!”

The sharp rap at the door makes me nearly jump out of my skin.

“Yes?”

Hell! That came out as a high-pitched squeak …. Get your shit together.

“You okay?”

“I’m good, just washing my hands. I’ll be out in a sec.”

“Made coffee. Dogs are fed. Starting dinner.”

I turn off the faucet and take a deep breath before opening the tall wooden door.

Oh my God ….

I have to crank my neck back to look up at him. This is the closest he’s gotten to me yet, and best guess? The top of my head is directly in line with his pecs.

He must see my shocked expression because he tries to crack a joke, saying, “How’s it going down there?”

I smile and say, “Fine, thanks.”

He gives me a once-over and asks, “What are you, five feet two?”

“Five feet three and a half, thank you very much.”

He snorts in amusement and says, “Damn, you’ve got enough attitude packed in you for a six footer.”

He’s funny. I like that.

“I’ve been told that on occasion.”

He grins, looking far nicer, saying, “I bet. Hey, all the shampoo and shit is in my upstairs bathroom. Whenever you want, I can take you up there and you can shower or whatever.”

Thoughtful.

“I’d like that. Thanks.”

His eyes roam my face, and under his hot male scrutiny I can feel my palms grow damp and my breathing more shallow. Nervously I change the subject because the effect he’s having on me is beginning to show.

I stare down at my socks for a second to collect myself before glancing back, asking, “So, coffee?”

“Yeah. Right this way.” His baritone voice is a quiet rumble as he turns and walks down the hallway.

I exhale and follow behind him, struck by his lingering scent that mimics the mountain air blended with a spicy undertone of some sort. It’s blatantly masculine and makes me want to get closer so I can smell it again.

How odd. I’ve never been this curious or turned on by a man. I’ve dated several guys but it’s never led anywhere serious. A couple of months of sexual fun at most. Not one of them had one tenth of the sex appeal Roark has … without even trying.

* * *

Fuck, try not to ogle her so much. She’s gonna think you’re some kind of barbarian.

When I went to check on her and the bathroom door opened, I was struck dumb. Her shining hair was pulled over to the side, exposing her flawless neck, and I felt my primal instincts roar to life. All I wanted to do was lick and kiss her there. I probably scared her half to death. Who the fuck knows? Maybe she thinks I’m some sociopathic hermit who hides out in his cabin in the mountains plotting to send mail bombs like Ted Kaczynski or some bullshit. Nah, I’ll talk to her over dinner, lay it all out, so hopefully she gets to know me a little better and isn’t afraid to fall asleep under my roof tonight.

“This is quite a place, really stunning. Have you lived here long?”

She’s looking all around the open-concept kitchen that offers a generous mountain view. This room was one of the reasons I bought the place.

“Appreciate it. I closed on it about seven months ago but have only come up a handful of times since. I’ve been busy wrapping up some business, including the sale of my condo back in Edmonton. Thankfully that’s behind me now. I plan to live up here full-time.”

“I don’t blame you. Even in the midst of this blizzard, it’s outstanding. I love how modern everything is, and the wood is so unusual. When was it built?”

“Only two years ago. Got a deal on it—some couple from Seattle thought they wanted to build a wilderness retreat. From what the realtor shared, this was too much for the wife to handle. Way too remote.”

“I see. You said Edmonton …. Are you Canadian?”

“Nope. Might as well be, though. Town I’m from in Minnesota is called Roseau; it nearly touches the Canadian border.”

I pour her a mug of coffee, slide it across the black granite island and say, “You mentioned Montana. That where you call home?”

“That’s right, Bozeman proud.”

“Never been there.”

“It’s cool. Lots of people spend their time outdoors. Mountains aren’t far, good hiking and skiing just a car ride away.”

“That so? Why are you up here, then?”

She stirs the milk and sugar around in her drink and replies, “My younger cousin and I are very close … his name’s Aldo. We’ve been ski buddies for as long as I can remember, maybe since the age of ten. Anyhow, about six years ago we began travelling the globe for the best powder. We save up all year and so far have been anywhere from Sweden to Argentina. Two years ago his best friend joined in. Kind of like the three amigos, I guess. We’re always trying to push the envelope, so to speak. Aldo decided we had to try heli skiing. It sounded amazing and none of us had ever been to Alaska, so here we are. Arrived yesterday morning and thanks to you, I’m still sucking oxygen.”

“That you are, short stuff.”

“Hey, watch it.”

“Oh, I am.”

She understood exactly what I meant because a sexy blush sweeps right across her face, and she shifts restlessly from foot to foot.

I ease up, asking, “What do you do for a living back in Montana?”

“I run my own business.”

I sip my coffee and ask, genuinely surprised and curious, “Oh yeah? What kind?”

“I have a virtual store on eBay. I sell ladies and kids pre-owned clothing—mostly designer.”

“And there’s money in that?”

“I do all right. I started it in high school, first selling my own stuff then graduating to things for friends. It kind of exploded from there. I’ve held off on college but would eventually like to get a degree in biology. For now, I’m slammed in my day-to-day operations, but the great news is, I can run my business from nearly anywhere, as long as there’s an internet connection, a place to store and purchase inventory, and a nearby post office.”

“Wow, that’s really cool. Never thought anyone could have that sort of job. Where do you get your inventory?”

She smiles and it’s gorgeous. “That’s classified, big guy.”

I laugh and she continues, “No, just kidding. Actually I travel around every other month to consignment stores and Goodwills looking for hidden gems. It’s like the ultimate treasure hunt. I love what I do.”

“Do you have a store front?”

“I do. Nothing fancy; it’s a tiny space on South Grand Avenue.”

“What’s it called?”

“Pinnacle Couture.”

“You’re young to be an entrepreneur.”

“I’m twenty-seven.”

“You look younger than that.”

“Maybe it’s my vegan diet.”

“You’re shitting me, right?”

She bursts out laughing, “Yeah, I am. Had you there, though. Actually, I’m kind of a carnivore.”

“Good. Because you might starve up here otherwise.”

“Oh, I’d manage. Now we’re on the topic, how old are you?”

“Twenty-eight, and before you say anything, I know I look far older than that.”

She downs another gulp and tilts her head, “Why do you think that is?’

“Dunno. Being on the ice from the time you’re six years old takes its toll.”

“Ah, so you’re a hockey player?”

“Was.”

“Oh. I won’t pry.”

“Appreciate it. Long fuckin’ story. Sick of telling it, actually.”

“When you want to tell me more, I’m around.”

I grin across at her and can’t help but stare, finding her more and more attractive with every passing second. The outside rings of her irises are rimmed in a dark sapphire color that fascinates me.

“So, what’s on our ‘arctic fest’ menu tonight?”

“I have two steaks thawed. That’s as far as I’ve gotten, actually.”

“Not a gourmet, huh?”

“You just nailed it, sweetheart.”

“Well, you told me that you have food, so I’ll take it upon myself to make us something. You just step back and prepare to be amazed.”

“Sassy as fuck.”

“Excuuuuse me?”

Her hands are planted on her hips and she’s fighting a losing battle not to laugh at my comment. Her eyes drift down to my hands—my ring finger in particular—and her tone changes. She asks, more of a statement than a question, “You’re married.”

Here we fucking go ….

My thumb brushes back and forth across the cool metal of the titanium-and-steel band as I answer her honestly, “Not anymore.”

“You must like the ring, then?”

“Never gave it much thought.”

“I won’t press—”

I cut her off, blurting out, “She’s dead.”

Suddenly, it feels like the ceiling is crushing down on both of us. Her hand begins to shake, sloshing her coffee onto her socks and the floor. I turn around, toss her a towel and grind out, “I can’t talk about it.”

* * *

Dead?

I grip the towel in a stranglehold and wonder how our lighthearted conversation suddenly turned bleaker than the storm bearing down on us tonight. Deciding it’s best to leave it alone, I walk over, bend down, and pet each dog. They are splayed out on the glossy floor within wagging distance of each other. How sweet. I stroke Gauge’s thick fur one last time, stand and rinse my hands before walking to the fridge. I glance right. Roark’s back is to me, and it looks like he’s seasoning the steaks, but honestly, the last thing I feel is hunger.

Opening the refrigerator door, I hear him say apologetically, “Sorry. It’s been a couple of years, but it’s still hard to discuss.”

Hearing the pain in his voice, I look over my shoulder to reply tenderly, “Hey, it’s okay; you don’t have to say another word about it, Roark, really.”

He’s so young. I wonder if they had kids? How horrific. Finding me half-dead must have really freaked him out. No wonder he was acting so bizarre earlier. Then I was skittish and uptight …. I’m going to make a monumental effort to make it up to him, starting now.

I do my best to change the heartbreaking subject. “You weren’t kidding about having plenty of food. What do you think about a romaine salad with goat cheese, dried cherries, and pecans? And I can make mashed potatoes.”

I’m juggling all the ingredients in my arms, trying not to drop them before I get to the island, when he says, “Sounds tasty. Glad one of us can cook. Was kind of hoping you were a Lucky Charms and red meat kind of girl.”

“Oh, I can destroy a box of Lucky Charms, so don’t be surprised if you wake up to find your box of marshmallow yumminess empty and in the trash.”

He turns, plated steaks in hand, and says, “I like you, Sabine. You’re different.”

“You know my name?”

Then it hits me, I guess he’d have to know my name, since he talked to the police.

He glances down shyly at first but quickly recovers. “Yeah, I make a point of finding out the names of hot chicks that crash on my sofa.”

“You’re a tease.”

“Oh, I definitely can be.”

My breath hitches because his eyes turn hungry, nearly predatory. His sexual assessment causes a rush of serotonin to surge through my body, making my sex pulse wildly beneath my leggings. I’m longing to feel firsthand what he just verbalized.

He’s gripping the plate tightly as he grates out, “How do you like your steak?”

“Rare,” I manage to reply.

“Good, me too.”

I nearly double over with relief when he strides across the room, sets the plate down on a round table, and grabs a black parka off the wall hook. He slides it on, pulls up the hood, and before I can question his choice to go out onto the snow-covered porch, he’s already gone, braving the wind to fire up the massive stainless-steel grill.

Men and their food, of course. I should have known this man would never let a little thing like a full-on blizzard keep him from preparing his steak the way he likes it.

I’m searching around for a cutting board when the door opens again, allowing the bitter wind to rush into the kitchen. He closes it quickly, stomping the snow off onto the wide red mat.

“Roark?”

He halts, pushing back the hood of his parka to lock eyes with mine.

“Yes?”

“Can I, ah, borrow a pair of socks from you? I’m sorry, but I stupidly spilled coffee on mine. They’re really soaked.”

“No problem. Follow me. Good for you to see where you’ll sleep tonight anyhow.”

Suddenly a wicked vision of us tangled together in a masculine wood-framed bed explodes in my mind.

Get a grip, Sabine!

He pulls off his ice-and-snow-encrusted boots and walks past me, eyes averted. I follow along, curious to know what the rest of his home looks like.

We climb a wide-planked staircase that has a turn in it at the midway point. The banister is made out of a cool, twisted dark powder-coated metal, and I realize that even in this remote location, the luxurious pad must have cost over a million. He either played a lot of hockey or hit the pros. I stare up at him and notice for the first time how he favors his right knee, hesitating when it comes to putting all his weight on it. The injury wasn’t apparent when he was simply walking around the house. He seems too young to be retired. Maybe it was the injury? I know next to nothing about men’s hockey except that it’s a blood sport on ice. Its violence is shocking. I never stick around when my dad has the NHL games on—far too much gore and aggression for me to stomach.

“Two bedrooms up here. You can take your pick.”

“I won’t take yours. The guest room works fine for me.”

Leading me to the closed door, he opens it and steps inside, flipping on the light.

I’m right on his heels, gushing, “Wow, it’s fantastic.”

The hulking log bed has a king-size, thick mattress that’s covered with both a fluffy white duvet and a folded quilt depicting a moose in the forest. The jewel tones accentuate the stunning wood details. Over in the corner is an overstuffed scarlet-red chair and ottoman. The entire scene looks like the ‘cabin chic’ version of a Pottery Barn vignette.

He points to an interior door. “There’s a full bath in there. It connects to my bedroom. Sorry there’s no private shower upstairs, but if I hear you in there, I’ll stay out. There are no interior locks.”

“It’s perfect. I love the room. It’s a lot nicer than the hotel room back in Skagway, but I won’t lie, I’d do just about anything for my suitcase right now.”

“I bet. Come to my room and I’ll get you those socks. I have a hoodie you can wear, if you need it.”

“You know, you’re very thoughtful for such a big guy.”

He stops inside the bathroom and turns to me, asking curiously, “Big guys aren’t normally thoughtful?’

“I haven’t known many, but those few were fighters—you know, bullies I guess.”

“Insecure probably.”

“Maybe so.”

He’s watching me closely as he says in a softer tone, “You make it easy to be nice to you.”

He reaches out to touch my sleeve but stops, letting his hand drop like a dead weight at his side.

He turns away, and I watch him disappear into his bedroom.

* * *

I’ve never second-guessed myself so much around a woman in my entire fucking life. Maybe it’s her petite size that has me on alert; I don’t ever want to hurt her. I stare at the back of my hands, hands that have brutally harmed so many, caused countless trips to the hospital. Rough hands that have no place on a delicate woman like her.

I reach into my dresser when her angelic voice calls out from behind me, “Any pair will do.” My heart skips a beat. She’s followed me in here.

I grab a wool pair that still has the tags hanging from it. Closing the drawer, I open the one below it and pull out a gray American Giant zip-front hoodie and a white tee. I put the socks on top and turn to her. She’s in the corner, touching one of my hockey sticks leaning in a tall metal umbrella stand. Her hands move along the edges of the marred wood. Without looking at me, she asks, “Which one’s your favorite?”

I toss the items on the bed and move in close behind her, placing my hand atop her silky one, wrapping both of our fingers around the stick, “This one.”

Her breathing immediately changes, becoming shallow and fast as she asks in a whisper, “Why?”

Because your hand is touching it and I’m touching you.

I say aloud, “Because it was the first stick I used against the Calgary Flames. Good stick.”

“Wait, the Flames, aren’t they … NHL?”

“Yep.”

“Wow, I never thought I’d meet a hockey pro on a ski trip.”

“Stranger things have happened, sweetheart. I’m learning that fact every day. Come on, the grill is ready. Need to get the steaks on if we want to eat. I’m starving. How ’bout you?”

“Ravenous, actually.”

“Well, let’s take care of that.”

Reluctantly, I release her hand and turn around to give her the clothes, saying, “No way any of my sweatpants will fit you, but these will have to do while your clothes are in the wash.”

“Thank you, Roark.”

Damn, every time my name rolls off her little pink tongue, my cock turns to iron.

“No problem.” There’s no disguising the edge to my voice.

We head back down and I can’t wait to get outside. I need the distraction of the bitter air to calm my raging hormones.

I put the steaks on and bounce up and down to keep warm. It’s been over a year since I’ve fucked anyone, and even then, I was so obliterated and drowning in grief that I can hardly remember the act. No, the last time it was meaningful was so long ago that it almost seems like some fucking dream now.

I appreciate the fact that Sabine is quick on the uptake, backing off when she hits a nerve. I hate displays of emotion, always have. The uncomfortable feeling that comes with fucking, ‘sharing’ makes my skin crawl.

I head in for a pair of tongs as she asks, “What dressing? For your salad.”

“Anything works.”

“Are we eating in here?”

“Nah, I like to sit on the sofa, by the fire and the TV. Never actually sat down at this table, if you can believe that.”

She smiles. “Okay, no worries. I’ll put the salads out there and find the napkins and silverware.” She pauses. “Oh, and I’m sorry, but the potatoes will have to wait until another night, I need more time to prepare them.”

“Don’t be sorry. If we’re still hungry, I’ll order us a pizza. Those fuckers will drive through anything to make a buck.”

She looks stunned by my coarse comment as I add, “You know I’m being sarcastic, right? Nobody is out in this storm.”

I watch her erupt into a fit of giggles. Jesus Christ, she’s so damned cute, it’s killing me. I don’t remember the last time I made a woman laugh. It’s refreshing.

The wind is howling when I rush back out, and even though the deck is fully covered by the other deck above, I have to fight to keep the steel cover open. It’s a balancing act not to drop the steaming meat as I hurry back inside, kicking off my boots in the process.

She’s already sitting on the sofa, lit beautifully by the glow of the fire. I sit beside her and place a steak on her plate.

“I poured us water,” she says. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted anything else.”

“Water’s good. Got some bourbon and I think a couple bottles of wine if you want some.”

“I might take you up on a glass of wine later.”

“Good night for it. Drinking in a storm is always fun.”

“That will be a first for me.”

I chew then swallow a bite of my juicy steak before replying, “No? Even with all your skiing adventures?”

“Sure, I’ve partied in a snowstorm before, and even headed out to nightclubs and bars, but I’ve never actually been snowed in while drinking, especially not with company … sounds rather intriguing.”

“Know some pretty fun drinking games that might keep us entertained.”

She laughs. “Oh, I bet you do, naughty man.”

Mmm … I’d love nothing more than to show her my up close and personal version of ‘naughty.’

I reach for my phone and turn on the Sonos system. One Republic’s “Counting Stars” begins flowing out of the surrounding speakers.

We eat for a few minutes in comfortable silence. Finally I say, “Good salad. You cook much back home?”

“Yes, I enjoy it a lot. Learned from my grandma, or ‘Nonna’ as I call her. She’s a phenomenal cook.”

“What nationality are you?”

“Take a guess.”

I set down my salad bowl and shift to really look her over.

“Gonna take a stab and guess, French?”

She shakes her head. “Close. I’m actually second-generation Northern Italian, from Milan, or Milano as they say in Italy. How about you?”

I shrug. “Thibault is French. Other than that, a bit of Swedish, part Scot. Rest is all mutt.”

“I can see the Swedish part.”

“Oh yeah?”

“You have a really distinct, imposing look about you.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, snow angel.”

Her eyes go wide and she practically spits her water across the coffee table before sputtering, “Did you just call me ‘snow angel?’ ”

I wipe my mouth with my napkin and smile confidently. “Yep. Coated with it when I found you, all curled up and lost like some fallen angel. So, yeah, I’m miles away from poetic, but I’m thinking it’s a very appropriate nickname for you. You know, in the rink most of us have one. They’re usually intended to describe your personality, unless it’s just something that rhymes with your name; those can be pretty hilarious. Like one guy on our team—name was Mike Honor—poor bastard was stuck with the name ‘Boner’ for his entire career.”

She shakes her head in amused disbelief. “All right, all right. I get it. Seeing as I’m a guest in your home, I’ll let the new nickname slide … for now, Roark.”

She watches me speculatively and asks, “Wait, so, what was yours?”

“My what? My nickname?”

“Yes. Come on, don’t leave me hanging.”

“Fog.”

Her breath hitches for a second. Then she says, “Because they never saw you coming, right?”

“Been told that.”

“Did you live up to it?”

“Every time my blades hit that ice, sweetheart.”

“You hurt a lot of people?”

“Countless. It was my job.”

“Did it bother you, the relentless violence?”

I shake my head. “Didn’t then. Does a bit now, though. Try not to dwell on it. Got a call a few months back from the older brother of some player I laid out during a really intense game against the Toronto Maple Leafs. Wanted to let me know that he’s still in physical therapy and fucked up from the concussion and broken collarbone I gave him. Told me I was a heartless animal. Yeah, not my best day. Shit like that makes you reflect.”

“So it’s expected?’

“What, the brutality?’

She nods hesitantly.

“Comes with the bloodlust of the sport, darlin’. When you’re on the ice, your sole mission is to stop the opponent cold, no matter the cost. You give the pain and you take it, believe me. Every man knows it when he signs that contract. Might as well ink it in your own blood. The violence and aggression is a given. You’re not on board, you leave.”

“Is that why you’re retired—you were injured?”

I stare down at my knee, the scars from the three failed attempts to reconstruct it hidden beneath the worn blue denim.

Her fingers graze the back of my hand. “Hey, I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer that. I’m just curious about you. Forget I brought it up.”

I flip my hand over and squeeze hers. “Nah, it’s all right, Sabine, and yeah, it was payback. My official position was right defenseman, but everyone knew I was the enforcer—the one on the team who shut down any shit from the other team, always with extreme violence. We were playing a game against the Detroit Red Wings and two minutes before the halftime buzzer I got trapped in a corner with their center and a winger. The center took a swing at me the same time the winger went for the chop job with the blade of his stick. He was a determined fucker—let’s just say that. I felt the thing shatter, second worst pain of my life. It was ‘game over,’ so to speak, from that point on. You wanna know my biggest regret?”

She nods and I continue, “It was having to be dragged off the ice by two teammates. It was hands down the most humiliating point of my career. Never thought I’d go out like that.

“But … you had no choice! I can’t believe you weren’t at least carried off on a stretcher. That’s barbaric.”

I frown at her comment, “Sweetheart. I’d have to have zero fuckin’ pulse for that shit to ever happen to me.”

“Proud,” she whispers.

Very.

I keep the comment to myself and add, “Took the settlement from the NHL and moved onto the next chapter of my life.”

She shifts closer to me, asking, “So, are you up here taking time off to think about what you want to do now?”

“Nope, I’ve already got the ball rolling with something that interests me. Never been a guy to lounge around.”

She tightens her fingers in mine and probes further, “Well, come on, share.”

“You finished eatin’?”

“I am.”

“All right, not sure if you can see it in the dark, but we can try. Up you go.”

We walk over to the front set of windows. Gauge lifts his furry head and one eye flutters open briefly before he flops back down onto his side in front of the flames with a long groan.

“You were knocked out when I brought you inside earlier, but if you peer out though this corner window, you might be able to see it over there to the left, beside the Tahoe.”

She presses her nose to the frosty glass and says, “A semi?”

“Yeah. You ever see that show on the History Channel called Ice Road Truckers?”

Her head turns, eyes wide as she replies, “No … but I’ve seen the ads for it. Why?”

“Just past my CDL test. I’m scheduled to deliver supplies to a mine north of Fairbanks next week. Picking up the container in Wasilla.”

“Ahh, okay, I get it. It makes total sense. You’re drawn to the challenge and excitement of driving on ice, aren’t you?”

“Guess so. Never really thought about it that way, but yeah. Don’t have to work, but the money’s great considering you’re not taking a physical beat-down on a daily basis. Besides, I’d go insane just hanging around this place. It’s nice and all, but a man like me needs a purpose in life.”

“How did you ever decide to live up here, anyhow? Not many people just up and move to Alaska.”

“Good question. About three summers ago I came up this way with a few guys from the team to fish for salmon. We rented a tricked-out cabin. Best three days I’ve had in a long fucking time. Never been a city guy. To be honest, most people annoy the shit out of me. Remembered the location and wanted to get far away from the world of hockey—too many memories, both good and bad.”

“What about the dogs? What will you do with them when you’re on the road?”

“The Peterbilt’s got an extended cab, so for short trips—ones that might be just a few days—I’ll take them with me; otherwise there’s an in-home dog sitter I met through the realtor that sold me this place. Checked his references—he’s legit and a really nice guy. That doesn’t work out, I can always drop them off with my brother. He’s got three kids that are crazy about them.”

“I think this will be a good profession for you. It’ll get your adrenaline racing, and you’ll get a firsthand view of some jaw-dropping landscapes.”

“Right on. Hey, are you tired?”

“Surprisingly, no. Why?”

“Well … you wanna try something pretty crazy with me tonight, angel?”

Her eyes sparkle with interest, causing my breath to catch in my throat.

Hell yeah, she does. There’s my girl.

Chapter Four

Winter Games

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this, Roark. I’m beginning to consider the very real possibility that I might be snowed in with a deranged madman. Tell me … am I?”

He ignores my playful inquiry, full lips tilted up as he stares down at his military style watch, telling me, “All right, the thing should be heated up by now. Here, take a shot of Blanton’s with me before we race for it. Trust me, it’ll help.”

He carefully slides me the small shot glass that’s filled to the brim with the amber-hued bourbon. He stares deep into my eyes, glass raised, and toasts, “This one’s for you. To survival.”

“To survival.”

I squeeze my eyes shut and gulp it down, surprised by the smoothness of the strong liquor. Definitely a world away from the shots I’ve done on occasion at house parties back in Bozeman.

I watch as he does another quick shot, placing his empty glass down beside the round bottle. “When I give the thumbs up,” he tells me, “go ahead and strip down to your underwear, shove your feet into my boots over there and run out onto the back porch. I’m heading out now to pull the cover off the hot tub. Once we’re down in the water, it should be heaven. Cranked the bastard up to maximum.”

“I’m trusting you, Roark, as crazy as this is.”

I lose track of what I’m saying as he methodically begins to peel off his clothes in the middle of the dimly lit kitchen. His jeans are the first to go, the weight of his thick leather belt pulling the mass straight down toward the floor. My mouth fills with saliva at the sight of his toned legs dusted with hair a few shades darker than his beard. He tugs impatiently at each sock then stands to grip his shirt by the back of the neck, dragging the Henley up and over his powerful frame. Now he’s wearing only a pair of deliciously tight black boxer briefs.

My mind shuts down as everything coils tight inside me. I’m screaming out for his impressive body to claim mine. He looks like a fighter—a scarred, beautifully tragic gladiator. There is a horrendous scar that zigzags along one side of his chest but it does nothing to take away from his sexiness. Everything about him screams pure, dominant male. My body is throbbing with blatant lust and he seems oblivious to my stare, saying playfully, “See you on the other side, and you’d better not back out on me, snow angel, ’cause you gotta know I’m crazy enough to come back inside and toss your little ass over my shoulder if needed.”

Yes, please.

With that, he turns, slides open the glass door, and dashes out—a large, shadowy figure in the blustery night. He swiftly flips off the cover and the steam from the hot tub billows out. Moments later I hear him shout, “Feels awesome. C’mon, Sabine!”

The snow is swirling everywhere and he’s lowered himself so far down into the water that the only part of him that’s visible is his face. The heavy vapor is making it hard to see even that.

After dinner I made a quick call to my parents to check on Aldo and Ben. I learned that Ben’s in stable condition and Aldo’s in intensive care, after a lengthy surgery to replace his shattered hip and two slipped discs. He’s lucky to be alive. Knowing they are both going to recover and that my parents now have my exact address makes it easier to relax and enjoy the sensual mystery known as Roark.

His deep shout pulls me out of my thoughts, “Second thoughts, baby doll?”

I shake my head and hold up a finger before pulling off my top. I wonder if he can see me clearly. I wish I’d put on a sexier bra and panty set this morning, but how the hell was I supposed to know I’d wind up hot-tubbing it with a total hockey God? I shed my ski pants earlier, leaving me in nothing but a pair of swirl-patterned gray and black leggings. Sucking in a deep breath for confidence, I wiggle them down my hips and pull them off, along with his thick, cozy socks. I adjust the little lace band on my coral-colored panties and nervously head for the door. Here goes nothing. Why not add some more excitement to this chaotic day?

I rush to slide my feet into his giant North Face boots and slide the door open.

“Ahhh!” I scream and nearly turn back from the face-smacking shock of the bitterly cold air. But he yells encouragingly, “Hurry! It’s agony till you get in. But trust me, I promise it’s heaven then.”

I ditch the boots and nearly leap over the side in my crazed attempt to get out of the vicious cold. He was right; the second my body hits the water it’s like being wrapped from head to toe in an electric blanket … awesome.

“Roark!” I shriek as he grabs for my ankles, tugging gently, dragging me the short distance across to him.

He doesn’t stop until our bodies connect and I’m straddling his submerged lap.

Oh God! Hell yeah ….

“Better?” His husky voice comes out impossibly deep as I inch closer, unable to resist the hypnotic effect of his hot, smooth skin.

Our noses are nearly touching when I whisper shyly, “Mmm, a lot better.”

My hair is floating around us in the backlit water. Cupping the back of my head with his left palm, he pulls me closer until our lips connect. My eyes slide shut as I luxuriate in his fluid control. He practically consumes me in his quest to dominate.

Never, ever have I experienced anything like this … like him.

His probing tongue slips across my lips, demanding entry. My lips part for him, a soft moan coming from deep within my chest—a plea for more. His arm tightens firmly around my lower back and I sense his control slipping a notch. The kiss that began slowly is rapidly turning aggressive and consuming.

I can’t resist.

I let my hand trail down his toned chest, fingers meandering through the fine dusting of hair then lower until I brush against the waistband. Teasing fingers drift back and forth against male flesh. I hesitate, my sexual bravado faltering. In the blink of an eye, the hand caressing the back of my hair is gone. It’s covering my hand, urging me on.

He pulls back from the kiss to whisper encouragingly against my ear, “Your touch is making me so damn crazy. You’re so beautiful, baby. It’s taking everything I’ve got to hold myself in check. Want all of you so badly.”

His raw words spur me on, giving me the encouragement I need to wrap my hand around his sex. My eyes flare at his size, which is slightly north of massive. He’s watching my reaction and his expression turns carnal as my tongue snakes out to lightly flick across his top lip. I begin to stroke him firmly through the saturated cotton.

More. I have to feel him ….

I’m greedy, wanting to know his body, unwilling to wait a second longer. I go for it, working my fingers down low into his boxer briefs until my skin finds his. My hand closes and I sigh … just like warm steel encased in velvet … surreal.

He groans low, the predatory sound making my neck hairs stand on end. His callused hands have taken on a life of their own, caressing my breasts with focused male intent. I feel my bra straps slip down my shoulders right before his thumbs brush against both my bare nipples.

His seductive whisper floats across to me through the steam, “Holy fuck, you’re so pretty and soft. Christ, angel, your touch is ….”

I’m embarrassed by his masculine praise and lean closer, silencing him with a passionate kiss. Things take a frantic turn when one of his hands finds its way down into my panties, his fingers seeking out my pulsing sex.

“Roark ….” I plead in a shaky voice, urging him on.

I realize that I’m grinding my hips against him like a total courtesan, only a thread away from begging him to shove into me.

Where the hell has my sanity gone? At this point, I could care less so as long as we keep up the sexy exploring game.

* * *

Her feminine scent is messing with my head. The fantastic smell reminds me of an endless field of wildflowers I used to bike past on my way to school as a kid. Her little hand is eagerly fisting my cock, sending me into a tailspin of unchecked lust.

I’m trying to be gentle but the powerful effect she has on me is making that next to impossible. She’s writhing all over me as I slip my fingers into her panties, bound and determined to explore her insane beauty. I swirl my thumb across her clit, which causes her to moan out my name.

Nothing sexier …. Fuck ….

“Yeah, you like that, angel. Need more?”

“Mmm, hmmm … please. Don’t stop touching me … feels so unreal.”

“I won’t, promise you that, darlin’.”

I press firmly, working her tight bundle of nerves against the pad of my thumb. The way she’s going to town with that little hand around my cock is shoving my restraint straight into the red zone. I squeeze my eyes shut, desperate to re-group, nearly coming as her hand slips lower to gently caress my balls.

“Shit, yeah, so damn good, Sabine ….”

She plays faster, running her tongue across my lips, whispering sexily, “I want to watch you cum. Let me make you cum like this … please.”

“You’re killin’ me, beauty. You will, but not yet, not till I get your sweet body there for me.”

She gasps as my index finger slips deep inside her soaked little pussy, pumping in and out, determined to give her what she wants.

Jesus, she’s so tight and silky soft that it’ll be a challenge to get inside of her if we ever fuck, which I hope to God happens. If not, I’ll be fantasizing about taking her for the next several lifetimes.

She’s crying out against my neck and I ask slyly, “You like that, sugar, need more?”

“Yes, yes! Just like that!”

“Mmm, you’re so sexy, baby, love watching you get wild for me like this. It’s erotic as hell.”

I add another finger, gently working them in and out of her slick passage, adding my thumb back into the mix, working that tiny clit hard and fast. Suddenly she tenses. Her grip tightens around my dick, and she cries out, shattering on top of me. I can feel her clenching tightly against my fingers as I work her faster, encouraging her, “That’s right, give it up to me! Give me that sexy orgasm of yours, angel.”

She rides the pleasure out before pitching forward against me, gasping for air, and I can’t resist trailing my tongue along her damp neck.

Slowly she leans back, her face a mask of blissed-out female relaxation.

She shakes her head back and forth, her hair playing against my beard. “You’re a bad, bad man—”

“Oh, I know. I love to be very filthy, especially with someone as addictive as you, Sabine.”

She wiggles against me and in a seductive tone says, “My turn to watch you now, Roark. Stretch your hands out along the sides of the hot tub, palms flat.”

Naughty girl ….

I do it and she wastes no time, feeling around below the gurgling water to pull my underwear down my legs. I kick them off my feet and spread my legs wide. Both her hands get busy, driving me insane with her sexy touch.

“Tighter,” I grind out.

She’s into it, panting, eyes glazed with lust as she watches me.

“So hot, baby. I’m really close.”

“You’re so gorgeous like this, Roark.”

She pumps her clenched fists faster. Her thumb passes over and back against the sensitive head and I lose it, cranking my neck back to shout out into the night as wave after wave of mind-bending pleasure pulses through my amped up body. So damn amazing ….

My body feels electric as I struggle to get the words out, “Christ, woman, your touch makes me crazy. That was unbelievable.”

She snuggles against me, the blasting heat from the steam keeping us safe from the nasty night. Her lips begin a light trail of kisses along my shoulder and she tells me softly, “I wanted to make you feel good, Roark. I wanted to show you how incredibly attracted I am to you.”

I pull her hair back with one hand and use the other to tip her chin up until she is staring into my eyes. “I wish I was better with the sentimental shit, Sabine, I really do, but I need you to understand that I’m a really private man. What’s developing between us is genuine, and that’s not something I would ever say without meaning it.”

“Thank you for sharing, Roark.”

I kiss her long and slow before reluctantly pulling back. “I’m thinking my little snow angel has about reached her limit of excitement today. Off to bed for you, sleepy girl.”

She gives a little stretch, followed by a contented yawn. “I agree. So tired ….”

“Let’s rinse off upstairs and I’ll tuck you into bed.”

“Mmm. perfect, Roark.”

Chapter Five

Secrets in the Darkness

The odd sound rips me from my dreams. I bolt upright, noticing how the once toasty warm guest room is now icy cold.

“No! You’re lying!”

The angry voice coming from the next room definitely belongs to Roark but the intonation is way off. He sounds tortured. I throw off my covers and race blindly through the pitch-black bathroom to his room.

“Roark?”

I’m still groggy. I can hear him thrashing about, but the room is so dark …. I fumble around, knocking over a glass of water before finally finding the bedside lamp. I switch it on and grab his shoulder, giving it a firm shake.

“Hey … wake up, you’re dreaming.”

He jolts hard, eyes flying open then squinting in the glare. I stagger back because the look is one I haven’t seen from him—it’s murderous and petrifying.

His voice is a confused rumble, the strangled string of words barely comprehensible. “What the … fuck?”

He’s covered in sweat, struggling to sit upright. The covers slip off as he pushes himself up on his powerful arms.

I wrap my arms around myself, partly from the cold, partly to shield myself from the uncomfortable situation.

“You had a nightmare. Are you all right now?”

He leans forward, scrubs his palms hard against his face and murmurs, half-dazed, “Yeah, I’ll be okay.”

He glances at his watch. “Jesus, it’s four in the morning. I’m sorry I woke you.”

“No, really, it happens to everyone.”

“Aw, shit, c’mere baby. You’re shivering.”

He pulls the covers aside and reaches across to tug at my hand, pulling me over to him. Last night I decided it was best for me to go ahead with my original plan of sleeping in the guest room. I was so exhausted that all I wanted to do was sprawl out and crash. He reluctantly agreed.

He rubs my back, telling me, “The power must be knocked out. I’ll get up in a minute and restart the fire. Don’t worry, the place will heat up before long.”

I snuggle against him, “You’re so warm, like a furnace. I’ll be fine so long as I’m lying against you.”

“I’m a useful man in many ways.”

I twist my neck to look at him, “Seriously, Roark, are you all right? That dream sounded bad.”

He watches me for a moment, like he’s on the fence as to whether or not to confide in me. His eyes shift to the window as he begins to explain. “My wife’s name was Hannah. She was a swimmer—a high diver. We got married young. I was twenty-one, she was a year older. We were married a little over two years when she fucked her back up learning a new dive. Went through a long, complex surgery, and luckily they were able to repair the damage. Bad news is, she got hooked on the OxyContin prescribed for the pain. I was traveling a lot in the semi-pro league back then. Knew there was a problem but didn’t think it was nearly as bad as it really was. Anyhow, shit … this is so fuckin’ hard to get out …. Got a call from a friend of hers late one night. They were at a house party with a bunch of sketchy people and she was found unconscious in a bathroom. She wasn’t breathing and was rushed to the hospital. They tried everything but the alcohol mixed with the painkillers made her breathing so shallow and sporadic that she suffered irreparable brain damage. She was on life support for over a month before her family and I agreed that it was best to …” his voice trails off.

He’s shaking and turns his head away. I wonder if he’s crying. I wrap my arms around him and hold him close, whispering, “Oh, Roark, oh my God. I’m so sorry that happened to you, and your wife, that’s so terrible ….”

His voice is strangled as he says, “Blamed myself. Part of me still does. Got really crazy in games, think now that aggressive streak I adopted is what propelled me straight into the pros. Took a really long time and some fucking gut-wrenching therapy sessions to realize that it was just fate being cruel. Everyone has a number and there’s nothing you can do about it when yours is called up, you know?”

“Please, look at me.”

He shifts his hips and reaches one long arm up and around to caress my shoulder as our eyes lock. We’re propped against his pillows when I tell him, “I can’t imagine the agony you’re going through, but know this: if you ever need a friend, I’m always here for you, Roark, whether it’s in person like right now or over the phone. I mean it. Promise me you’ll remember that.”

He kisses my forehead and murmurs, “You’re a good person, Sabine.”

“So are you, complex man who happened to save my life.”

“Glad you’re a fighter, sweetheart. Don’t think I could’ve handled it if ….”

He turns away and blows out a lengthy sigh before eventually looking back at me. “Yeah, anyhow, just happy we’re here discussing it. It’s been on my mind. While we’re on the topic, I want you to know that if you need to get what happened on the top of that mountain off your chest, well … I’m all ears.”

“I appreciate it, but I don’t feel like reliving it just yet. Maybe in time. Please know that I owe you for all that you’ve done for me, Roark.”

He shifts toward me and leans close, breathing against my lips, “That so?”

Uncertain of the meaning behind his odd words, I answer tentatively, “Yes, of course I—”

He cuts me off with a lone finger pressed against the center of my lips. His sexy tone is direct and demanding. “Hush. I’ll take this as my payment, Sabine.”

Oh my God yes …. Do it, Roark. Take me. Wreck me beneath your powerful body. Annihilate any thought except your dominance.

In a blink of an eye his warm finger is gone, replaced by those luscious lips that are swiftly becoming my undoing.

Perfection. I want to melt into him and never let go.

I’m pushed down onto my back as his muscular body moves confidently over mine. His lips meander down lower, covering my neck in lazy, deliberate kisses that make my entire body tingle in heightened expectation.

The room is filled with our heavy breathing. His exploration turns wilder, making us both nearly frantic with lust.

This is it, Sabine, this is the intense passion you always fantasized about but never thought possible ….

He shifts his weight forward, and his hot breath brushes my ear as he whispers, “I’ve gotta have you, Sabine. Never wanted anyone as desperately as I want you right now, baby.”

Clutching his broad back, I tremble as I pull him closer. “Don’t hold back. Give it to me exactly how you need it. I can handle you.”

His involuntary growl sends a blast of heat right though my sex. He immediately turns aggressive, his legs forcing mine wide apart, his long arms shoving away the sheets and duvet in male annoyance. He settles over me, his bare chest heaving hard against the cotton tee he loaned me to sleep in. His hand dips low, stopping abruptly when he feels that I’m completely nude.

His fingers are trembling lightly as he tells me gently, “You’re so gorgeous, baby, you make my fucking brain seize up when I touch you. You wet for me?”

I’m half in a daze, lusting after the bliss I know he can deliver as I slip my hand down between us, pressing my palm firmly against the back of his hand, “Find out if you want, but you already know the answer, Roark.”

He crushes his mouth to mine, one hand slinking up to knead my breast at the same time a wicked finger begins to tease me, playing against my throbbing clit until I begin writhing against him, silently imploring him for more pleasure.

“Jesus, you’re on fire, baby. Relax, you’re gonna’ get all of it, but my way.”

I whimper out my frustration at his tactics that are a perfectly agonizing blend of supremely hot and deliciously torturous. The cold is long forgotten. My body now feels like it’s splayed out on a Caribbean beach in the middle of summer. The effect he has on me is unrivaled. His hips are grinding against me and I can’t resist tugging at the waistband of his sweats. I’m nearly crazed to remove the last barrier separating us. His warm weight is suddenly gone and I watch, transfixed by his brutal beauty, as he hastily tugs them down his hips, working them impatiently off his legs.

Breathe, girl ….

His stunning cock is definitely eager for play, jerking and pulsing between his toned legs. My body shifts restlessly at the mouthwatering sight. I couldn’t turn back now if this cabin caught on fire ….

He reaches out, brushing his fingers against my ribs, pulling the cotton up and over my head. The white tee goes sailing off into a far corner as he leans back onto his calves, watching me watching him.

“Never seen anything as beautiful as you in my whole life. God, I love how you stare at me.”

I can feel the hot blush work its way up my neck onto my cheeks from his compliment.

“Roark ….” My impatience is unmistakable.

“Give me this, Sabine. Let me look at you, never gonna forget this, not ever. You’re branded into my fucking memory, angel.”

Beautiful, tortured man …. Give yourself over to him, even if it’s just this one time. It’s what we both desperately need. Something wonderful to make us forget the nightmares.

He seems to read my mind and begins a slow, sexy crawl back up to hover over me. I can’t resist and reach up, threading my fingers through his hair, tugging him down until our lips meet. His tongue is greedy, tasting and exploring with devouring precision. I whimper as my inner thigh is nudged wider with his knee. One of his hands is caressing my neck softly as the other trails lazily back and across my stomach then lower until his finger brushes against my drenched sex.

I buck my hips as I purr, “Yes ….”

“So fuckin’ hungry for it … love that about you, baby. You’re turning me on beyond belief, but you know that, don’t you?”

“Mmm ….”

Two fingers swipe back and forth through my parted sex, testing the limits of my sanity. I feel his body moving lower until those wide shoulders come to rest directly between the juncture of my parted legs.

Hell, yes!

His warm breath tickles my skin before his wicked tongue begins lapping at me, the warm, shocking sensation making my mind explode in euphoria.

His voice is a husky rumble between my thighs, “Knew you’d taste like this, so damn perfect. Could lick you forever and still need more, baby.”

A moan of lust is all I can manage as he continues licking me furiously, until I’m shaking beneath him from the intense pleasure.

I’m gasping for air, on the verge of a powerful orgasm when he pulls back. I utter a loud whine of protest but he’s already shifted, his thick cock gripped tightly in his right fist. Those dark, predatory eyes gleam down at me. He’s like a savage as he tells me darkly, “No, angel. My way, remember? This sweet little pussy is going to come all over my cock until you can’t think straight. And Sabine? I’m gonna get it. Now grab hold of my shoulders and don’t dare let go. Fair warning—I ride rough, always have.”

Oh. My. God. I’ve never in my life had a man speak to me with such sensual aggression. I was more than apprehensive about his size but at this point I’m dripping for him and will positively lose my mind if he doesn’t fuck me into oblivion. Immediately.

My trembling hands reach up to clamp down tightly on his hot shoulders. I’m so ready for him to make good on his promise.

Do it, Roark, ride me, give me all that ferocity you have stored up in you ….

I gasp as he pushes steadily into me; the stretching is instantaneous and slightly uncomfortable. My fingers grip his shoulders hard and he stills. I take a few deep breaths before lifting my hips, silently urging him onward. He continues on a smooth, slow glide and the guttural sound of ecstasy that tears from my throat is unrecognizable to my own ears. He’s filling me to the hilt, then thankfully stills, giving me time to adjust to him.

His sexy whisper floats down to me, “You’re absolutely perfect. You were made for me, Sabine.”

My hands slide up to clasp his thick neck. “Yes. Only for you. Don’t hold back. Unleash on me, Roark.”

His eyes flare and an all-male sexual purr forms deep within his broad chest a second before he moves, swinging those powerful hips back before slamming straight into me. I scream out from the intensity but it goes unheard because he’s on a mission, pummeling into me repeatedly with such raw force that all I can do is hang tight to him and go along for the hard ride. He’s making primal, nearly animalistic noises that cause me to shiver beneath him, my hyper-stimulated body bracing for the next punishing thrust. Each swing of his hips crashes into me, leaving me reeling and silently begging for more. His pounding movements are coming closer together, his intensity ramping up to an extreme level when out of nowhere my orgasm detonates with unimaginable force. The extreme bliss is rocking my body beneath his, and I’m clenching him tightly as he slams repeatedly into me. His heat and scent permanently brand me as his alone. I reach down and grab his tight ass, urging him to drive harder, wanting to give back to him the addictive rush of pleasure he’s giving me.

I whisper breathlessly, “That’s right, Roark, fuck me, take me, own me, just don’t ever stop. I can’t wait to feel you come inside of me.”

He shoves in deep one final time, roaring out his release, his damp body quivering hard on top of mine. My back arches up as my hands slide up to caress his slick back.

I sigh contentedly, thinking, Heaven. This man has shown me heaven.

Chapter Six

Dig In

“Should’ve pegged you for a pancake girl. Tell me, how many of these can you pack away, sugar?” I tug playfully on one of her cute braids while pressing my chest against her from behind.

She flips a round cake before answering coyly, “Oh, after what you did to me this morning, it’s safe to say a lot, big guy.”

“Jesus, you’re such a turn on. Damn, those are making my mouth water, angel. Gonna be ready soon? You’ve already made ten.”

“Patience, sexy warrior. My famous lemon ricotta pancakes with bourbon pecan butter and warm maple syrup take time.”

I mock growl my annoyance as she continues, “Here, can you put the rest of this bacon away and start the water for the tea?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“So polite.”

“Only when the situation calls for it.”

“You know, you’re a very perplexing man.”

“Nah, angel. I’m a very simple man who lives by his own code. Nothing complicated about that.”

She slides a delicious-looking oversized pancake onto the plate, carefully pours more batter into the skillet, and says softly, “You’re unique. I like that about you, Roark. I can honestly say you are a galaxy away from any other man I’ve met. There is one thing I’m curious about, though.”

She looks up into my eyes. I place my hands on my hips and reply, “Shoot.”

“What were you doing out in the woods when you found me yesterday? In that kind of weather, I mean.”

“Hunting caribou.”

“Caribou? Wow.”

“Maybe one day I’ll take one down. Fantastic steaks.”

She smiles sweetly, the pale color of her shirt making her eyes more intense. “Set out for a caribou, wind up with a feisty woman.”

“Sure did. Damn thankful for that unexpected outcome too, sweetheart.”

She giggles and throws her arms around my neck, planting a kiss on my lips. She gazes deep into my eyes and tells me, “Need you to take me to a tourist shop soon.”

I cock my head. “Oh yeah? Why’s that, angel?”

“Because I need to buy you the largest stuffed-animal caribou they have, something super cuddly with big brown eyes and long lashes.”

I burst out laughing, my shoulders shaking, causing her to lose her balance since she’s on tiptoe.

“You’re so handsome, Roark.”

Fuck. You’re falling hard for this woman.

“That so?”

“Mmm hum … oh!”

She twists around, screeching, “Oh no, the pancake! It’s burnt to a crisp. Oh well, one casualty isn’t a total failure. Right?”

I grab her hips tight and whisper into her ear, “No, it’s not, baby.”

“Oh well, I’ve made enough for our epic brunch. We can start carrying everything into the living room now.”

“Nah.”

She twists around, spatula in hand, her pale eyes questioning, “No? Why?”

“Want to eat here, properly, with you.” I smack her ass playfully and add, “Do whatever else you need to do and I’ll go set the table.”

She smiles at me, and I feel like a prisoner who has just seen the sunshine after five long years behind bars.

You need her in your life. You’re good for each other. You both make each other so damn happy.

I lean back and lock my fingers at the back of my neck, telling her appreciatively, “I can’t remember the last time I packed that much food away. Damn, Sabine, thinking I need to thank that grandma of yours in person. Never had pancakes that tasted anything like that before.”

She blushes. “I never thought we’d burn through the entire stack, but well, as you can see …” her eyes track over the empty platter then out the window, “the snow’s stopped. Never thought I’d say this, but I’m glad. I need a break from it.”

I reach over into her lap and hold her hand in mine, asking, “You ready to talk about it?”

She continues to stare outside for a long while until her words suddenly begin flowing like a river. “It came out of nowhere. The force was unimaginable, sweeping us away like we were feathers in the wind. But more than anything else, it’s the sound, the menacing roar that haunts me. When I’m doing random things like washing my face or getting dressed, the sound will jolt though my mind, like it’s happening all over again. Minutes will have gone by, and I’m standing there like a zombie. I didn’t want to say anything to you about it earlier, thinking you’d be freaked out.”

“Probably PTSD.”

Her shoulders jerk back in surprise. “You think? Really?”

“Sounds like it. You should get help if it lasts more than a couple of weeks.”

“Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

“Sabine.”

She turns to look me in the eyes. “Yes?”

“I’m no doctor, but by the time I found you there, you were one, maybe two hours from death. How did you get separated from the others?”

Her face drains of its pink hue, reminding me eerily of how she looked when she was out cold in the cab of my truck.

She stammers, “I-I had to help them. I was on a path down the mountain when the snow started up. It wasn’t long before I became disoriented. I’ve heard that can happen when hypothermia begins to set in. Maybe that’s what it was, who knows? I just remember that I was surrounded by a sea of trees and became so … so tired and dizzy. My legs felt like concrete and my boots were making it impossible to take another step. I guess that’s when I stupidly curled up to rest.”

Her shoulders begin to shake as tears spill down her cheeks. My heart sinks; it might as well have been plunged into a vat of bubbling tar for all the good it can do. I know I should fucking say something to soothe her, but I’ve never been good with this shit. Instead I reach over and pull her out of her chair sideways into my lap, tucking her face against the comfort of my warm chest.

“Shh, it’s okay, I have you.”

Her unsteady voice drifts up to me. “I should’ve fought harder. What if Aldo’s beacon had failed? They could be dead now.”

Movement catches my eye. Both dogs have meandered in, sensing something’s wrong. They are good at picking up on human emotions. Anything that deviates from the norm causes them to snap to attention.

Minutes pass in silence and I do my best to comfort her, rubbing both her back and her hair.

“You know I have a strict no-tears policy inside this cabin, don’t you? Violators have to sleep out back in a tiny tent—no bathroom, no fucking picnic.”

She huffs out a small laugh at my lame attempt at humor. Reaching for her mug of tea, she takes a sip, telling me, “Thanks for always brightening things up, Roark. I love that about you. At least Aldo’s in stable condition now. My aunt told me on the phone this morning that Ben has already been discharged and will need to use crutches until his ankle heals. I told them I’d get a flight out as soon as you can get me back into town.”

The last thing I want is to tell her goodbye, but I’ve known all along that it’s unavoidable, as certain as the next wave crashing on some distant beach. The least you can do is make the rest of her time here memorable. Maybe, just maybe, this beautiful, addictive creature won’t forget you once she’s settled back into her own world ….

“Hey, you wanna see something super cute that’ll make you smile?”

She swipes at her damp cheeks, a hopeful look on her face. “Sure, what’s that?”

“Let’s get you bundled up and I’ll show you. And, snow angel?

“Yes?”

I can guarantee you’ve never seen it before.”

I practically eat up that glimmer of excitement in her eyes. It hasn’t been long, but I now know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I want those striking eyes focused on me for the rest of my life.

Chapter Seven

Wild Creatures

“Oh my God! They’re so crazy for it!”

I laugh until I’m nearly doubled over. Roark has the windows down and is grinning as he works the truck steadily between forward and reverse. The dogs are in puppy nirvana, barking and leaping at the snow that’s flying up and piling high thanks to the slanted steel plow anchored to the front of his truck. They’re bounding in and out of the growing mountain as if it’s the best thing in the world. Who knew plowing a long driveway could be this entertaining?

I watch them for a long time, thinking that they look a lot like miniature yetis covered with thick snow from their arduous play. He’s gotten into my blood to the point that I’m trying desperately not to think about how painful our impending goodbye will be.

I yell over the harsh scraping noise of the plow, “I’m going to walk up to the top of the drive and have a look at the condition of the road!”

“Go for it!” he shouts over the commotion.

He’s loaned me a pair of his Merrell boots, which best guess, are at least six sizes too big on me. As awkward as they are, at least they’re super warm and far less cumbersome than my stiff Dalbellos. I trudge forward slowly, savoring the late morning sunshine filtering down through the dusted evergreen trees. I can see why he purchased this property; town is only an hour or so away, weather permitting, yet far enough to make you feel like you’ve been dropped straight into a Jack London novel.

I make it to the top of his drive, look around for a mailbox and realize that this far out it’s likely he has a post office box in town. His property is set on a wide ledge near the base of the mountain. There’s a narrow road that arcs down and around, barely wide enough for two cars.

The dogs have begun barking wildly, and I figure it’s because Roark has temporarily put a stop to their plow fun. That’s when I hear Roark calling out to me. His voice, normally sensual and playful, is flat and far too calm. “Sabine, you need to move very slowly. Don’t panic, just start walking back to the house. Right now, baby.”

I whip my head toward him, but his eyes are fixed on something behind me. His expression is unreadable. The dogs are making a beeline toward me, snow flying in their wake as I woodenly turn my shoulders toward the trees, nearly passing out when I see it. Not one hundred feet away is a massive moose with antlers that seem to span at least six feet across. In my stunned state the first thing that comes to mind is that capturing their scale on film is an absolute joke. This one is impossibly immense. He lifts his broad head and sniffs the air, his wise dark eyes fixed on the dogs that are headed his way. He holds his ground proudly as I stare in total awe, observing this magnificent creature that’s standing in the snow not fifty feet away. This is a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

* * *

The dogs have sprinted past her and have nearly reached the towering animal that, best guess, must weigh twelve hundred pounds. He looks uninterested, but should he charge, none of us could stop him, not without a weapon. And that’s when it hits me: I didn’t unload my crossbow from the truck the other day. I fling open the door, reach in, and pull out the weapon and a lone steel-tipped arrow. I’m not going to take a shot unless the moose makes a move to hurt her or my dogs. My hands are shaking from the adrenaline flooding my system as I load the arrow into the chamber and cock the weapon. Calm the fuck down, jackass. You’re the protector here and you need to keep your shit together.

I turn, hoist the weapon up to my shoulder and get a lock on his chest. He’s begun to snort hard, twisting his antlers to and fro, annoyed by the dogs who are rushing it in circles. He is so close that I feel confident I can hit the beast somewhere if it comes to that, enough to make it turn back. A moose that size could stomp us to death as an afterthought.

My main priority is getting us back inside the house in one piece. I rush toward her, calling out as calmly as possible, “That’s good, Sabine, keep walking toward me.”

She’s taking slow, measured, backward steps my way. I whistle for the dogs and watch as they race back to me. I have the spectacular animal in my scope, prepared to shoot if it charges.

It seems like an hour has passed before I reach her. I grab Sabine under her armpit, whispering, “Get inside with the dogs and walk very slow. No sudden noises or movements. He’s likely just hungry and nosing around. Heard they can act erratic late in the season when food is scarce.”

She turns and our eyes lock. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are filled with excitement. “Don’t shoot unless you have to,” she says. “He’s glorious.”

With that she’s gone, stepping out of my peripheral vision.

All right, moose, what’s it gonna be? My grill or back into the forest for you?

I’m holding my ground, lining up for a potential shot, when he lets out a bellow that sends shivers down my spine. I watch as his hulking frame turns and he slowly trudges back up the way he came through the tall trees. Within minutes he’s disappeared into the snowy woods.

I gulp in air and begin to walk backwards, taking careful steps until the heel of my right boot knocks against the last porch step. I lower the weapon, turn and rush inside. As the door opens, I’m met with a blast of heat from the still blazing fire, and aside from the heavy panting of the dogs at my feet, total silence.

“Sabine?”

Unloading the arrow from the crossbow, I place both pieces down by the door and slip off my boots.

Where the hell is she?

That’s when I see her at the top of the stairs, her eyes wide and questioning. “Roark, are you all right? I was watching from the second-story window.”

I make my way up the stairs, telling her, “Yeah, I’m fine. But I gotta admit, that was one hell of a rush. They’re supposed to be smart. Doubt he’ll be back. I’m so damn sorry that happened to you.”

When I hit the top step she wraps her arms around my waist, pressing her cheek against my chest. “I’m not sorry,” she tells me. “I’ll remember that moment forever. It was magical.”

Right then I decide that we’re about to add to that list of memories she has going on.

Chapter Eight

Turning Point

I’m listening to the strong strum of his heartbeat when he steps back to clasp my hand in his, lazily leading us down the hallway and into his room. The bed is still unmade from earlier this morning and we shed our boots and layers in eager silence before climbing up onto the piles of pillows. He untwists the feather duvet and spreads it out neatly over us. As he lies back on the bed, his long hair spreads against the cotton. I stretch out beside him on my side, watching him stare up at the ceiling.

“Have you ever seen a moose on your property before?”

He blinks and turns his head to look my way. “No, never that close to the house.”

“God, that thing was immense. I have a new respect for them.”

“Damn straight. Gonna start keeping a loaded rifle in the truck from now on. You’re not afraid to be here now? Tell me the truth.”

He’s watching me closely as I answer, “Not really, no. He probably thought you had food on you or maybe he smelled the garbage. That same scenario could have happened on any continent on this planet with other predators. There have been mountain lion attacks on joggers in California and the grizzly bears can be a menacing when they’re not in hibernation, so when do you draw the line between living your life or hiding away in fear? Besides, it was pretty clear he meant no harm.”

“Good point, angel. I’d just hate for you to feel uneasy here for any reason. The noise from the plow likely drew his attention our way. He was curious and unfortunately you just happened to be alone and vulnerable when he closed in.”

I snuggle closer, savoring his radiant warmth. I lift my head and tell him slowly, “I think you’ve got one thing wrong though, Roark.”

He lifts his head a few inches and asks curiously, “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

I rise up onto my knees and lean over his bare chest. I cup his face with my palms and stare into his striking eyes. “You keep calling me ‘angel,’ when in fact it’s you who are the angel.”

His eyes flare with a fierce emotion. I lean closer, my hair forming a curtain around us. Our lips meet and I pour my gratitude into a passionate, unhurried kiss.

* * *

Her small wet tongue is lapping feverishly against mine. I grip her hips tightly, pulling her across and onto me, unable to fight the urge any longer. I’ve never been affected like this before, but everything about this girl has a way of magnifying my lust.

I’ve got to be inside her … fuck, simply to have her once again, to mark her as mine.

She’s making the sexiest little panting sounds as I work my way slowly and methodically down the pale column of her neck, realizing that this captivating girl has just become my ultimate addiction, and I’m about to show her pleasure she never knew existed.

My hands glide down and up along her smooth body, stopping at the base of her breasts.

So perfect and just waiting to be thoroughly sucked and coated with my saliva.

My voice is harsh as I command, “Need to taste you. Lean down closer to me.”

She makes a needy sound and drops forward, lowering her shoulders until her breasts are right in my face.

“So damn beautiful.” I wrap my palms around the outside of each one and get busy lapping and nipping at those irresistible, hard, pink nipples, on a mission to make her positively insane with lust before I take her.

“Roark!”

The breathless plea is followed up with a slow hip grind on my bare stomach. I tear my mouth away and let out a deep growl the instant I feel her wetness spreading across my flesh.

“Holy fuck, Sabine, you’re so damn sexy without even trying, baby.”

Her hands are running restlessly through my hair as she purrs out her reply, “Then give it to me …. The ache is driving me crazy.”

“Not yet. Be good and you’ll get it from me, baby. First I want you to flip around and work my cock with those beautiful lips of yours. Been dreaming about you doing that while I eat your sweet pussy. Don’t be shy … not with me.”

I can tell that she’s turned on by my rough words because her eyes widen at the same time that sweet little tongue snakes out to run along her bottom lip. Oh fuck yes, the same little tongue that is about to trace sexy little outlines along my rock-hard dick.

Her face is flushed and I watch as she maneuvers herself completely around. I stare across at her damp pussy, only inches away, and hiss out, “Christ, you are absolutely stunning, you know that?”

She gives a little moan and I feel her tiny hand wrap around the base of my cock. My hips buck up from the mattress, so hungry for her, as she covers the tip with her slick mouth. My inner animal roars to life and I instinctively bind my arms across her hips and back and yank her down onto my face. I let myself go, devouring her like a total savage. Our mingled groans of desperation are filling the room and she’s putting everything she’s got into working me. I have to squeeze my eyes shut and focus to keep from giving into what my body is craving …. Nope, not just yet.

She’s grinding her hips down onto my face like she can’t live without my lips and tongue, her enthusiasm making my blood surge through my veins. It takes a huge effort to tear my mouth away from her sweetness. Focused on drawing this session out as long as possible, I grate out, “Ride me. Show me what you’re made of, Sabine.”

She obeys, releasing me, and I nearly moan, already missing the insane pleasure. I watch the show as she shifts forward on her knees, her legs straddling me, flowing hair tickling my upper thighs and knees as she positions the center of her pussy right on the crown of my straining cock. I have to bite the inside of my cheek and clench my fists into tight balls to stop myself from grabbing her hips and slamming her straight down onto me. The urge is nearly overwhelming when she carefully begins to lower herself down, inch by magnificent inch, until finally there is no separation between us. Her deep feminine sigh of satisfaction is met with my low groan of raw desire. I watch in fascination as she slides her arms forward, which gives her a lower angle. She begins to work herself on me in an even, steady rhythm that is making my mind fucking spin in carnal hunger.

I praise her, “That’s it, baby, ride that cock exactly how you need it. You’re so unbelievably beautiful like this. Wish you could see yourself. So damn stunning.”

Her reply is strained and needy, “So good, God, you feel so unreal this way, Roark. This angle, it’s so deep.”

I grind out harshly, “Faster, Fuck me like you mean it, Sabine ….”

Her once smooth rhythm breaks as her hips begin to smack hard and fast. She’s bucking against me with everything she’s got. Suddenly she stills, clenching so tight around me, screaming out, “Yes! Oh, oh my God!”

I growl at the intensity of her orgasm that instantly snaps my restraint. Reaching out, I dig my fingers into her ass cheeks, forcing her to keep riding me. My over-stimulated body has reached its limit, exploding into an orgasm so powerful that I lose touch with anything other than the insane pleasure that’s stream-rolling through me with the force of a freight train. My own strangled shouts of pleasure are still echoing in my ears as she collapses, nearly falling off the side of the bed, completely drained from our sweaty, frenzied sex.

She’s sprawled out as I get it together, untangling myself to crawl down beside her. I move her hair out of the way and marvel at her blissed-out state—eyes half-lidded, face pink from the exertion, lips swollen and slightly parted. I can’t hold back my feelings any longer, and with one arm draped across her slick back, I whisper, “I’m really into you, Sabine.”

She watches my lips as I continue, “I know it hasn’t been long, but I need you to know how strong my feelings are for you. Nothing like this has happened to me since losing Hannah. Sure, what we just did was unbelievable, but it runs a lot deeper than the physical, Sabine. It’s you, the way you communicate, the way you think and move. Jesus, this is so difficult for me to put these emotions into words, but I’m absolutely fascinated by everything about you. Before you leave here, leave me, I need you to know the depths of my feelings, what’s rapidly building between us, because I know if I didn’t speak up, I would spend the rest of my life regretting it, baby.”

Her lips quiver as she reaches out to trace her fingers along my beard, “Roark, I have—”

I grasp her hand and cut her off, “Stop. I don’t expect a reply.”

She stills, and staring deep into my eyes, begins again, “No, you need to hear me. I was trying to say that I have the same feelings for you, deeper and stronger than I ever thought possible. And the more we’re around each other, the more intense they become.”

A thick moment passes in silence before I confess, “I don’t want you to leave.”

Her eyes fill with sorrow. She leans in close to give me a kiss, pulling away to say quietly, “I know, believe me, I know, but it’s inevitable. I have to go. My family needs me right now. Our timing is so incredibly messed up, Roark.”

I feel like my heart is so swollen that it’s choking me as I struggle to reply, “Yeah, baby, you got that right.”

Chapter Nine

Bittersweet

We’d drifted off into an exhausted sleep, twined together beneath the dense comforter, when the loud knock at his front door has us both springing upright, wide awake in a span of five seconds.

The dogs are barking nonstop as Roark says in an irritated tone, “What the hell?”

I watch as he struggles to untangle himself, staggering out of the cozy bed before reaching into a drawer for a pair of track pants and a t-shirt.

“Be right back.”

He rakes his hand through his hair and is gone, leaving the bedroom door ajar. I wonder if it’s a neighbor stopping by to see if his power is restored or maybe the cops. I hop up and quickly get dressed. I’m reaching for a pair of socks in his dresser when he peeks inside. “It’s the sheriff. Soon as you’re ready, he needs to speak with you about the avalanche. Said he can take your statement here if you like.

“Okay, tell him I’ll be right down.”

He nods and disappears. I quickly get the socks onto my feet and am trying in vain to smooth my hair as I rush out of the room. Hurrying down the stairs, I hear two male voices.

The man in the tan uniform and navy police parka is stocky with sharp green eyes and a full, dark-red beard—not how I would picture an Alaskan sheriff with the exception of his no-nonsense demeanor. His hands are planted firmly on his hips, revolver in plain sight as he asks Roark, “Anyone hurt?”

“No, we’re fine. Didn’t kill it. It wisely took off. You want a coffee?”

“Yeah, that would be great. Had a couple issues recently with moose getting into dog pens, foraging for food. They can be a major nuisance.”

His head turns to me as I hit the last step. I swallow and say, “Hi.”

He gives a nod of greeting. “Miss Borgia, I’m Sheriff Bryant. Nice to see you in one piece. Mind if I take a few minutes of your time?”

I cross over to him and offer my hand, “No, of course not.”

He shakes it and quickly reaches into his pocket for a notepad and pen.

I ask, “Would you like to sit?”

“No thanks. Long drive out here. You go right ahead though.”

“I’ll stand. And before we start I want to express my gratitude to you and your department for your efforts at locating all of us.”

He stares across at me in silence as if he’s surprised by what I’ve just said. Finally he replies, “It was Jake and his team who phoned it in. They saw the avalanche just as they landed at the base. He was frantic to get to you ASAP, figuring there was a better than average chance your team might be buried. Had your buddies on a chopper headed to Anchorage inside of two hours—proud to say a record for us. Took a while to find a hundred percent secure spot to land; otherwise we would’ve gotten to them sooner. Storm was just moving in when the pilot took off with them; that’s when we were faced with the daunting task of trying to locate you. Have to say, you had a lot of searchers in a panic because it was a race against the clock. We knew that when the snow started kicking up so violently, the visibility would be nil.”

Roark hands the sheriff a steaming mug as I reply, “It was a mistake to leave the group and believe me, I realize that now. I’m anything but an expert on how rescue operations work. All I knew was that Aldo wouldn’t have made it without immediate help. I did what I felt was best at the time and I owe this man so much for saving my life out there. Without him, your men would be searching for my frozen corpse right now.”

I shudder inwardly at the gruesome thought.

“You’re right. I didn’t want to state that brutal fact but all too many times it’s a reality out here in the harsh wilderness. It’s unforgiving terrain, and things move quickly on this mountain; you have to come prepared for anything and everything. You were very lucky that Mr. Thibault was in the right place at the right time.

“Yes, and I’m very grateful to him.”

“Right, then. If you want to gather your belongings, I’ll go ahead and give you a lift back into town. Ferry is up and running as of two hours ago. There’s a flight out to Anchorage that leaves at seven p.m. It’s never full so we should be able to get you on it.”

Oh my God, right now? So soon?

I look at Roark, who has the same expression of disbelief on his face. I turn back to the sheriff and am about to ask him if he can give us a few minutes alone when Roark speaks up. “I’ll get her to the flight.”

Suddenly the realization that there’s something going on between us flashes across the sheriff’s face. He stares right into my eyes and asks pointedly, “Is that offer acceptable to you, Miss Borgia?”

I nod my head. “Yes, I’d actually prefer that Roark take me into town.”

He makes a few quick notes on his notepad then flips it closed before slipping it and the pen into his pocket. “That works, then. I have at least two more stops to make on this side of the mountain before I take the ferry back to headquarters.” He takes a deep drink from the coffee and hands it back to Roark, telling him, “Here’s your mug back. Oh, and one last thing ….”

He shifts awkwardly back and forth before asking, “Got a son—he’s in high school. He’d go crazy if I brought home your autograph. Would you mind?”

Roark smiles politely and sets the mug down, holding a finger up in the air. “Hold on one minute,” he tells the man.

We watch him climb the stairs, disappearing into the bedroom. In a few minutes he comes into view, descending the stairs with a battered hockey stick clutched in his right hand. The sheriff’s jaw is slack with disbelief as Roark asks the stunned man, “What’s your kid’s name?”

“Jason.”

“Got a sharpie?”

He pats his chest for a second, looks down, and hands it over to Roark.

We watch as he pulls the cap off with his teeth, like he’s done it a thousand times before. Bracing the stick against his left thigh, he leans over and writes in neat block letters, “Jason: Shoot hard.” He signs it, “Roark Thibault.”

He hands the stick over to the officer, who stammers, “N-never gonna forget this. Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

He gives me a polite nod. “You take care of yourself, Miss Borgia. Maybe you can visit Alaska again under less stressful circumstances.”

I shake his hand and assure him, “Yes, maybe so, and thanks again.”

He gives Roark a grateful look before disappearing back out, heading to his Chevy Blazer that’s parked at the top of the drive. Roark touches my back and tells me, “Wait here. I’m going to make sure he gets to his truck all right.”

He slips his feet into his boots and walks out onto the porch without a coat.

I knew it was coming—that our goodbye was inevitable. Still, I’d rather face just about anything than leave him right now. I sigh and slowly walk back up the stairs. I do my best to put the heavy thought aside, instead choosing to think how I can best help Aldo once I reach Anchorage. My aunt and uncle must be exhausted. My goal is to give them some relief, and then hopefully Aldo will be cleared to return to his life back in Montana. Knowing Aldo, his mission will be to get right back on track to tackle the slopes in a season or two; that’s just how he’s wired.

I’m halfway down the hallway when he says, “Hey, thought I heard you up here.”

I stop and look over my shoulder as his arms slip around my waist, his chest pressed snugly against my back.

He leans around, asking, “You all right?”

Am I?

I turn around in his arms, thinking, Those dark eyes of yours, Roark Thibault, will haunt my dreams for a lifetime.

“I’m good. Just trying to wrap my head around leaving so soon. Seems really cruel in a way, you know?” I drop my gaze, staring straight across at his chest, trying to hold it together.

“Hey, Sabine, look at me.”

I lift up my eyes to meet his determined ones.

“You get that I’m a fighter, yeah?”

I tilt my head, saying, “Of course.” I’m curious as to what he’s getting at.

“That’s in all things angel, not just hockey. I’m one tenacious man, and I fight for what I want, what I believe in. Might take some time, but you and I, baby, we’re far from over. But I need your promise that you won’t give up on me. I will damn sure fight hard to make this happen, all right?”

Fight for us? Do we have what it takes to overcome the odds?

“Come on, sweetheart, don’t leave me hanging. Tell me you think we’ve got a shot, because if you want to take off out of here tonight and never look back, I damn sure need to know right now so I’m not a wreck when you drop the bomb on me later on.”

I throw my arms around his smooth neck and kiss him with all the passion and hope I have within me. He understands the silent answer and wastes no time taking charge. Before I know it, he’s backing me up against the nearest wall. My mind is reeling from his forcefulness and before I can do anything he pulls roughly at my leggings, tugging them down impatiently. I step out of them and he kicks them off to the side. I could care less that I’m bare with the exception of my shirt. He fumbles urgently to lose his own track pants, sliding them down his firm hips.

I have to look ….

I only get a fleeting glance at his impressive sex before he grips the back of my thighs, lifting me high up against the wall until we’re eye to eye.

“Wrap your legs around me.”

The command is dark and husky, causing my already damp pussy to pulse hotly with need. I lock my calves around his waist and he grunts his approval before guiding me down onto him. My head presses back against the wall at his determined entry, so thick and searing that I struggle not to cum before he’s fully inside of me.

I can feel him pulsing within me, so perfect. I pant from the stretching. His size is definitely a challenge but I’m getting used to it and the insane pleasure it always delivers.

“Roark … please …. God, yes, drive me hard. I don’t want to think, just feel you fucking me ….”

His eyes smolder as his jaw clenches; the fierce expression on his face is scary hot.

He doesn’t have to say it. I know I’d better hold on tight. The first thrust is brutal, so forceful that I’m amazed I’m not flung off to the side of the smooth wall.

“Yes! Again!”

He goes in for the kill, ramping up the momentum. He’s fucking me like we have only five minutes left on the planet together. It’s surreal. My body and mind are brought down to a primal, desperate level where two words reign supreme, “Own me.”

As if through a fog I can hear my screams and cries of pleasure blending with his guttural moans that are the most exquisite sounds I’ve ever heard. Sweat is dripping down my temples and I’m clinging tightly to him as shoves impossibly deep within me, hitting that hidden spot, forcing everything inside of me to detonate, causing every nerve ending in my body to take on a vibrating life of its own. I’m still shattering around his stone-hard cock as he slams into me several times, rougher and choppier than before. Suddenly he stills, pressing his forehead against mine as he groans out his release.

I know in this moment that I’ll never meet another man like him for as long as I walk this earth. He’s the definition of exceptional and it’s going to shred my heart to pieces to leave on that flight tonight.

Chapter Ten

Alpha to the Core

“Welcome back. We’ve left your room undisturbed and don’t worry about the additional charges. Jake and the boys over at Peak Tours insisted on covering it once they found out you’d be coming back for your belongings, but we went ahead and waived it for them completely. They had your friends’ gear transported to Anchorage already.”

I take the spare key from the blonde desk clerk who looks to be around my age and tell her, “I really appreciate it. I’m just here to pick up my suitcase. I’ll be out within the hour.”

Her eyes have already drifted over to Roark. She’s drinking him in from head to toe and back up again when I realize that even if she did hear me, I shouldn’t expect a reply anytime soon.

I sigh and head for the staircase leading up to my floor. Roark walks beside me in silence. We haven’t exchanged more than twenty words since leaving his house over an hour ago. He’s the only man I’ve ever met who is capable of expressing his innermost thoughts through touch and eye contact alone. He kept me close on the ferry crossing, arms never leaving my body. That’s what I’m going to miss most about him, his calming presence and depth of character.

His quiet voice tears me from my thoughts as we enter the room. “Thought we’d grab a burger over at the Ale Smith before your flight—that is, if you’re up for it?”

I zip my makeup bag closed and turn to look at him. “Of course. Sounds good.”

He leans his back against the closed door, arms folded across his chest, watching me as I undress. He’s seen me nude countless times but now, in this room together, I feel exposed and almost shy. I shake off those strange feelings and slide on a pair of black panties and matching bra, a pair of dark-washed skinny jeans and a cozy V-neck sweater. I nearly weep to slide my feet into my own shearling triple button Ugg boots. They feel heavenly compared to what I’ve been wearing the past couple of days.

I pull out my scarlet-red parka, the one I arrived with; then I pack away my ski clothes, thinking I might burn them to help eliminate the memory of the avalanche. Leaning over the large case, I zip it shut and stand it upright.

His wide hand covers mine. “I’ve got this.”

His hot breath is a sensual caress against my hair as I turn to face him. His eyes roam my chest then move back up to my face. “Fuck me, angel, thought you looked fine in my clothes. Damn shame we’re on a schedule ’cause I’ll be honest, all I’m thinking about right now is pounding you straight into that mattress two feet behind you.”

His harsh words cause every cell in my body to scream a resounding, Yes! Yes! Yes!

He picks up on my interest and his huge hands press into my ass, slamming me up against his body, claiming me in a scorching kiss before I can even blink. His beard rubs across my face and I whimper into his mouth, which only seems to spur him on. One of his skilled hands has snaked around and is sliding up the front of my sweater.

I can’t resist. I have to taste him again.

I pull away and drop down to my knees before him, too shy to look up as I unfasten first his wide leather belt then his jeans. His breathing has changed, becoming thick and heavy in the tiny, sunlit room. I move the material away just enough to pull him out. I get right to it, licking and kissing him, marveling at the silken heat of his gorgeous cock. Slowly I slide him deep into my mouth, loving the closeness, the distinct taste that is pure Roark. I smile inwardly as his hands sift through my hair, impatient fingertips pressing against the back of my head, silently urging me to take him deeper, faster. I brace my right palm against his stomach and use my left in synch with my mouth to work him relentlessly, determined to give him back a fraction of the pleasure he’s given me. He’s growing thicker with each swipe of my tongue as I ramp up the action.

Suddenly his hands are on my shoulders, and he’s taken a wide step back. I gasp, struggling for balance and shove my hair away, staring up into his masculine face. His eyes are gleaming with undiluted lust as he chokes out, “We’ll revisit that soon, baby, but right now I gotta be buried balls deep inside your sweet pussy, so get your fine ass up on that bed before I throw you onto it.”

I love bringing out his inner beast …. There’s nothing hotter.

I call his bluff, saying teasingly, “You wouldn’t ….”

As fast as a slingshot he moves, grabbing me roughly beneath both armpits. Before I can take a breath I’m hauled up and sent sailing through the air for a full two seconds before bouncing twice on the double bed. “Roark!” I shriek, surprised by his forcefulness as he stalks over, kicking his jeans off the rest of the way in the process.

“Shouldn’t tease a man like me, sweetheart. Consequences. Now flip over and offer it all up to me.”

Did he really just say what I think he said?

My pussy clenches hard in unleashed desire from his brusque tone. The animalistic part of me roars, Yes, fuck me, brand me, use me …. Mark me as yours alone!

From the look in his eyes, I know that he’s not messing around, that my earlier play spurred his sexual appetite to an epic level and that he’s going to finish this his way. I flip over to my tummy, raising my hips to make room to wiggle out of my jeans and panties. I feel his legs against the inside of mine, and when my pants are just at my knees, he grabs both my wrists, hauling them up above my head, pinning them down to the mattress. I arch my back for him as he lines himself up against my drenched core and shoves deep inside, forcing himself into me, silently insisting that I take all of it. I do my best to stifle my cries of crazed pleasure, knowing that we could easily be heard. He’s the opposite, not giving a shit as he utters primal grunts and starts up a jarring, insistent rhythm. His vice-like grip on my wrists keeps me immobilized. Taken, dominated, overcome ….

He’s going fast and hard and my body responds, igniting in pure ecstasy. I squeeze my eyes shut, yelling his name as he pounds into me from behind, sending pleasure surging through me in forceful waves. Suddenly my wrists are free and his hands are grabbing for my hips, pulling them against him as he shoves mercilessly into me in a non-stop piston-like motion that is one step from barbaric. I feel delirious from the connection. My body is still on the fringes of the potent orgasm when his fingers tighten on my flesh, a telling sign that he’s close. I have to look. I whip my head around in time to see his head tossed back; he is shouting out violently as he comes hard inside my body. I collapse, unable to do anything other than breathe and feel him. He’s a force of nature, my unstoppable Roark.

* * *

The chick at the front desk is giving Sabine a look of pure green-eyed envy as we rush past, making a beeline for the exit.

I can’t help but think to myself, Oh yeah, I’m glad she heard us fucking like savages.

The wheels from her suitcase are loud against the wood floors as I release her hand to shove open the front door, jutting my chin to indicate that she should go first. Her face is flushed with embarrassment, making her look impossibly pretty. Jesus, every time I take her, it tops the time before. I’m completely entranced by this woman. What the fuck am I gonna do when she takes off outta here tonight? I’m starting a new job, and with my tight schedule, it will be difficult for us to connect anytime in the near future. From what she’s told me about her online business, she works round the clock as well. Still, I’m determined to keep close to her. She’s touched me deep, and that shit just doesn’t happen in my world—no, it’s a rare thing, and I’m gonna think it though long and hard to come up with a solution for the distance problem.

I toss the case in the back and turn to her. “Hungry?”

Her eyes narrow, like she’s recalling a naughty memory from earlier. “Starved.”

“Let’s do it. Been to the place once before—fantastic burgers and craft beer.” I sling my arm across her shoulder and we hurry along the snowy sidewalk of the old mining town.

Raising one eyebrow, she asks, “I wonder if your famousness might cop us a booth, big guy.”

I sputter out a laugh into my fist and give her a sly sidelong look. “You’re a fucking funny one, angel. Nah, most people know just the name. Only the diehard hockey fans know my face. Remember, we’re all geared up like snow monsters when we’re out there on the ice—nothing like those pretty boys in baseball.”

“Ah, that’s too bad.”

“Oh yeah, why’s that?”

She shrugs, fighting hard not to giggle. “I like watching you squirm when you’re asked for your autograph; it’s so cute.”

I spin her around and give her my best serious look, the one that falls hopelessly short as I tell her sternly, “Cute, huh? Thinking your sassy ass needs round two, woman. Show you exactly who’s in charge.”

She flings her arms around my neck, pulling up onto her tiptoes to say seductively, “Mmm, I promise, you are more than welcome to do that. Anytime, anyplace, my sexy alpha.”

I watch her closely, drinking in her natural beauty, committing every square inch of her to memory. I lean down to give her a soft, quick kiss, saying tenderly, “I’ll hold you to that one. Come on, baby, your alpha is hungry enough to eat an entire damn bear.”

She rubs my arm as I lean in to open the door of the renovated space that boasts five giant copper vats. The setting is chill and low lit. A waiter in a black t-shirt with a tap and pint-glass insignia on it greets us. “Hey guys, just two?”

“Yep. Got a booth, we’d appreciate it.”

“You got it.”

We wind our way through the nearly empty space. At 4:45 it’s too early for most people to eat, but we’ve already booked her flight online and she needs to be there thirty minutes before boarding.

The guy sets the menus down as we each slide into the tall booth. He asks, “Get you a beer? Everything’s made in-house and the special of the month is our orange-infused winter lager.”

“That sounds good,” she says.

“How about for you?”

“What’s your favorite?”

“We have a brown ale that’ll blow your mind. Definitely our most popular beer lately.”

“That’ll work.”

“You got it.”

He disappears to get our drinks and I place my arms flat on the table, leaning across to speak to her. “You excited to see your cousin?”

“I am. I hope he’s not in too much pain with the surgeries and all. Hospitals tend to creep me out, if you know what I mean, and poor Aldo’s been stuck there for days now. I’ll keep him as entertained as possible during my visit. I’m sure at this point he’ll do just about anything to get out of there.”

“Yeah, but sounds like they’re getting him straight. Glad to know he got help in time. Looking forward to meeting him one day.”

Her delicate fingers brush the backs of my hands. “He’ll definitely want to meet you after I tell him the story.”

I’m going to lose my ever-lovin’ mind when this girl leaves tonight. Hold your shit tight, Roark. The last thing she needs after what she’s been through is a 6’5” weeping puppy dog staring across the table at her, making her feel guilty for doing what she has to do.

The twenty-something bearded waiter shows up again, tray in hand. “Okay, here we go, two twenty-ounce drafts.”

He sets them down, asking, “Just beer or are you interested in ordering food?”

I ask her, “You need some time to look over the menu, right?”

She looks over at me. “What did you order when you came here last time?”

I grin and look over at the guy waiting patiently at the end of the table. “How about two of your house burgers with cheddar and the works. Sub onion rings instead of fries … oh yeah, and bring some of that homemade ranch dressing.” I glance back at her. “That work?”

“Ah, yeah … sounds amazing.”

He scribbles down our order. “All right, I’ll put this in for you. Just wave or holler if you need more beer.”

“Thanks, man.”

Kings of Leon’s “Cold Desert” is playing low and mellow in the background when she asks, “Are you looking forward to your road trips?”

“Yup, I’ve been excited since I purchased the rig a month ago. It’ll be interesting. I’m gonna give it a solid twelve months regardless. If I’m over it then I’ll pack it up, sell the truck, and move onto something else.”

“That’s a good plan.”

“How ’bout you? Are you jumping right back into eBay land the minute you hit Bozeman?”

“Ha ha ha, I work a lot, that’s for sure, but that tends to happen when you really have a passion for what you do. This month is usually quiet, so I’ll probably use the time to sort items for the upcoming season. Items that aren’t current will need to be set aside for donations, and thankfully, I have a part-time employee named Trisha who is a rock star—a single mom, hard worker. We get along well and I hope by March to bump her up to full-time status. If my projections are on track, it should happen easily. I get so much more listed with her in charge of the packing and shipping.”

“I think that’s really amazing that you have your own business. Takes some people a lifetime to make that leap.”

She blushes and looks away. “Aw, thanks, Roark. I honestly just do what makes me feel confident and happy. The fact that it’s taking off is a bonus.”

I love that she’s so modest. “Nah, angel. It’s a reflection of your dedication. You gotta have that in anything you do.”

She stares at me for a lingering moment, and I’m about to ask what’s going down in that beautiful brain of hers when the waiter shows tableside with our burgers.

Her eyes widen at the large oval plates overflowing with onion rings and gargantuan, steaming burgers. She jerks back, saying in awe. “Whoa, everything comes over the top in this state.”

The waiter grins. “Like that? Brought you a stack of extra napkins. Dig in and enjoy. Another beer, my man?”

“Nope, I’m good.”

“Right on.”

He leaves and she’s scanning the plate. “Ahh … I’m not sure where to begin.”

“Don’t be shy. Dig in and get messy. We both know that we’ve already worked these calories off earlier together.”

She glances around quickly, mortified someone might have overheard. I pop a hot onion ring into my mouth as she mock hisses, “Bad, wicked man!”

“Oh, you’ve just grazed my ‘bad’ side, darlin’. Hell of a lot more where that came from, just you wait.”

The sexiest pink flush spreads across her upper chest and cheeks as she tells me tenderly, “I’m going to remember you just like this, so alive and wild. I love how unfiltered you are, Roark. Every single thing you do and say turns me on to no end.”

Don’t be a fucking pussy, Thibault. Tell the woman again how dead serious you are about her. Make sure she leave this state knowing it as if it was a tattoo inked on her skin.

I wipe my mouth and hands with my napkin and reach over to grab her fingertips. I lower my voice so no one can overhear, saying, “Let’s forget the goodbyes because this is the beginning for you and me. I need you to tell me that you understand me, Sabine, because I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life.”

She blinks and I watch her lips part. Ever so softly, she answers, “I believe you, Roark.”

I squeeze her fingertips in my palm and reply, “Good.”

If it takes a lifetime, I’ll make her mine. I knew she was worth fighting for the minute her eyes locked with mine across my living room. She never gave up out there in the elements and I sure as hell won’t either. No, this is the second chance we were both so unbelievably lucky to have been given.

Chapter Eleven

Five Weeks Later

Bozeman, Montana

“Trisha, have you seen the measuring tape lying around?”

I glance up at her, wondering why she’s laughing at me. In her arms she clutches an overflowing mail bin that’s ready to be dropped off at the post office.

“Ah, you mean the fabric one that’s hanging around your neck?”

Looking down, I shake my head and tell her, “Oh, damn! I seriously need to lay off the caffeine.”

“Nah, you’re fine. I’m glad we’re so busy, Sabine.”

I scan my laptop screen, double-checking that we’ve shipped all the paid items for the day. As I work, she continues to chatter. But then her voice changes as she asks curiously, “Huh … ‘snow angel.’ Isn’t that what Mr. Hockey hottie calls you?”

The blood begins to thunder in my ears as I look up at her, asking hesitantly, “Yes, why?”

Please … oh please let it be him ….

She points to the plate glass window behind me. “Turn around and have a look.”

My hands and face are tingling as I slowly turn around to see a huge semi that looks like his parked across the street. Painted in dark-blue script off to the right of the driver’s cab are the words, ‘Snow Angel’. But Roark’s nowhere in sight.

It’s been so long … the agonizing goodbye in the airport, the sleepless nights, wishing we were together. The phone calls that nearly crushed me every time we disconnected. The romantic songs that left me a sobbing mess, every single one reminding me of him. Five weeks of near torture, thanks to his insane work schedule.

“Sabine, hello? Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Without a word I frantically sprint across the floor, pushing open the front door of the little shop. I look left, quickly scanning the few people walking down the street. No, he’s instantly recognizable. He can’t be within a two-block radius. Then I twist my shoulders to look right and gasp. He’s ten feet away, a crazy-gorgeous pink and white bouquet of roses front and center.

His smile is like liquid sunshine as that familiar voice calls out, “Hello, beautiful.”

My hands fly up to cover my mouth as I race headlong toward him, jumping into his arms and getting an instant rush from his natural scent and the incomparable texture of his skin and hair.

My voice falters as I say shakily, “Roark, you came.”

He cuts me off with a slow kiss, both searching and sweet, as if we’re both shyly reconnecting. His tongue is lazily playing against mine. I’m like a parched woman stranded in the middle of the Sahara; every molecule in my body shouts out for him.

Slowly he pulls back a few inches to look me over, saying in his sensual way, “Yeah, baby, came for my girl. Long overdue visit, I know.” He sets me down onto the sidewalk, stroking my cheek with his free hand. Those intense eyes drift down to my toes then back up again. “You look so beautiful, sweetheart. Never seen you in a dress before.”

There’s a million things I want to talk to him about, so many that I don’t know where to start. “You look amazing too.”

“Where’s my manners? Here, these are for you. Just picked them up a couple of blocks that way. Hope the colors are all right … told the lady they were for a real-life princess and they had to be special.”

He hands me the incredible arrangement that smells like a blooming Southern garden. “Thank you so much, Roark; they’re magnificent.”

A feminine voice rings out behind us, “And this must be Roark, I’m guessing?”

I turn around, still dazed. I can’t believe he’s really standing on the sidewalk with me right now, “Trisha, meet Roark.”

She sets down the container of packages and he reaches across to shake her hand. “Nice to meet you, Trisha.”

“Likewise, and welcome to Bozeman. I was going to make a coffee run after the post office. Anyone need a drink?”

I tell her, “Actually, take the rest of the day off, Trisha. I’m locking up the shop to show Roark around town.”

She smiles knowingly, picks up the container and begins to head toward her Jeep as Roark calls out in a friendly voice, “Thanks for the offer on the coffee!”

“Sure thing! You two have fun exploring today.”

He pushes a length of hair back over my shoulder, asking, “You surprised, angel?”

“I am very surprised.”

“Good, like hearing that. So, what would you like to do? For the next twenty-four hours, I’m all yours.”

My smile falters. “Only twenty-four hours? That’s so short.”

He strokes a finger beneath my chin telling me softly, “Mmm, I know, darlin’, but I’ll make it up to you. Missed everything and I mean everything about you.”

I give him a passionate, knowing look and instantly his body becomes taut as a steel cable. I whisper, “I want to show you my shower …. It needs your attention. Badly.”

“You’re a very naughty woman disguised as a sweet, innocent lady, Sabine Borgia, a very wicked woman who’s all mine. And I damn sure hope that your place isn’t far from here because all I can think about is getting you out of that little blue dress and underneath me.”

“Three b-blocks,” I manage to stammer out, nearly breathless with lust.

He leans down, whispering against my parted lips, “Show me.”

* * *

I’m nipping at her neck as she fumbles to get the key into the lock. The front door of the little A-frame swings wide and we practically stumble inside, both crazed to ravage each other senseless. She breaks away from the hold I have on her hips, and I watch as she turns, racing down the hallway, long, gleaming hair streaming behind her. She’s laughing, calling out coyly, “Shower time … and I can’t wait to explore your wet, naked body.”

She had my full attention at wet.

I ditch my clothes along the way, leaving a trail down her hallway. I’m buck-ass naked and hard as granite by the time I step into her bathroom. Her back is to me, and she’s leaning over, fucking around with the handle, finding the perfect temp. That little zipper is far too tempting. I step in close and slowly pull it down before slipping the dress off her smooth shoulders. The spectacular sight of her white-lace thong nestled into her rounded ass sears my brain.

Take it easy, Thibault, make it memorable for her …. Fuck, it’s been so long that all I want to do is ram myself right into her perfect heat. Hell, who am I kidding? My sanity took a nosedive the first time I took her. My body demands hers. Case closed.

“Turn around.” My voice is unnaturally harsh.

She does as I ask and her eyes are glazed as they lift to meet mine. My seductive angel, so damned starved for play. I love that about her.

“Missed those eyes of yours on me, baby. Every single minute we were apart.”

“They’ve missed you, Roark.”

I pull her in tight, pressing her body into mine as I tell her softly, “Dreamed of holding you again, seems like a million times. You feel even better than I remember. How’d you get to be so flawless, sweetheart, huh?”

She shakes her head and drops kisses across my chest, “You’re the perfect one … absolutely perfect in every way.”

My breath hitches when that little hand of hers wraps tightly around my throbbing cock. She starts up a slow stroking rhythm that tests my control.

“Get in,” I manage to grind out while backing her into the warm spray of the walk-in.

She moans as I reach down and rip the lace right off her body, whispering against her parted lips, “I’ll buy you another pair, but right now I need that pussy on my tongue, and angel, nothing on earth could stop me from getting it. Turn around, spread wide, and brace yourself, because it’s been too long since I’ve had it, and trust me, I’m fucking starving for that sweetness.”

She begins to tremble as she twists around, palms high and flat against the dark tile.

Using my left hand, I move her hair over her shoulder then trail a finger down the center of her back, stopping to unhook her wet bra.

“Don’t move.”

I slide the material up her outstretched arms until it reaches her wrists.

“Lift up.”

She moves her hands and I toss the bra to the floor, telling her, “Back into position. Legs wider.”

She lets out a tiny whimper of need, a sound that’s come to haunt me.

“There’s my baby. I love it when you get all hot and worked up. I wanna hear you say it. Tell me, what do you want?”

“You, Roark, your tongue, your cock, anything. Just fill me … please ….”

“You’re gonna get it all, Sabine. How wet are you, darlin’?”

“Check and see.”

“You drive me crazy, woman.”

I lower myself down to my knees, dip my head low and spread her ass, nearly fucking passing out from the beauty she has going on, nothing more perfect in this entire universe.

“Fuuuccckkk ….”

I descend on her like a beast, licking and probing every irresistible crevice of her eager sex. My dick is so hard that it’s closing in on agony, so damn desperate to be buried deep within her pussy that it’s making my head spin. Her sweet-as-honey wetness is covering my lips and beard as I tongue-fuck her with everything I’ve got. I’m about to slip my fingers into the mix when she practically wails above me, “I’m close! Oh, Roark!”

Shit yeah ….

Pulling back, I tell her roughly, “I wanna eat that orgasm, Sabine. Let it go for me.”

I shove my face back in and let my tongue go wild, lapping at every part of her, bending lower to sneak a few licks across her sexy little clit when her legs begin to shake forcefully. Her incoherent cries rise up, bouncing loudly off the walls of the small space.

That’s it, Sabine, come all over me.

I can feel the tight spasms against my lips and tongue and a sense of pride surges through me, knowing that I can bring her to this height of pleasure. Only when she’s gasping for air do I pull away and stand up, telling her darkly, “Stay put. It’s my turn, and angel, you know how I take it.”

Her head is hanging down as she ekes out a shaky, “Yes, and I love it. Fill me … take it all, anything you want.”

“Good girl.” I drop a quick kiss in the center of her dripping neck, grasp my dick and line it right up against her entrance. I need to be inside her more than anything right now, need it fast and aggressive, and thank fucking God I know she can handle me that way.

My hips seem to have a will of their own, shoving straight into her drenched pussy.

“Aww! Holy fucking shit, Sabine!” I shout as my eyes squeeze shut from the immense pleasure.

She cries out as I fist her hair in one hand and grip her right hip with the other. I begin laying into her with long deep strokes, quickly building up to a vicious rhythm. She’s stretched so tight around me that it feels like we’re fused as one. The unreal sensation is too much. I can feel the orgasm bearing down on me as the base of my spine begins to tingle and burn. I thrust into her softness three more times before letting go, riding out the most intense pleasure I’ve ever felt in my life. When my mind finally connects with my body, I’m practically smothering her against the shower wall.

“Oh hell.” I’m dizzy as I gently pull back and out of her. As soon as I have my balance, I turn her around so I can hold her against my chest beneath the spray.

“Sabine, look at me.”

She lifts her chin and our eyes lock. The water droplets are bouncing off her skin as I tell her what I’ve held in for weeks, “It’s impossible to describe how much I love you. You know that, right? I can’t even begin to tell you how devastating it was to walk through the door of my place the night you left. Shit, to be honest, all I wanted to do was sit down and sob.”

Her eyes soften, so delicate and beautiful, as she holds me close, telling me in a hushed voice, “Oh, Roark … I love you too. We’re here together now and that’s all that matters. The feelings I have for you are greater than anything I could ever have with anyone else. Ever. I felt it in Alaska and it’s only grown stronger since we’ve been apart.”

“It’s going to be okay, Sabine, trust me. We’re gonna work it out real soon. Promise you that. You just believe in us and I’ll take care of the rest.”

Chapter Twelve

Everything Evolves

Aldo stands up from the green sectional, saying, “So this must be the man that my cousin has been going on about since she landed in Anchorage. Nice to finally meet you, Roark. I’m Aldo.”

He extends his arm across the low table and I offer him a firm handshake. Looking him over, I think how much he resembles Sabine in the face, otherwise, he’s taller and lankier with a head of wild, dark curls. I smile, saying, “Nice to meet you, man.”

He continues, “Well, Roark, glad that I finally have a chance to thank you in person for saving my strong-willed cousin’s tail out there in the Alaskan wilderness. You’re a hero, man. The world wouldn’t be nearly as vibrant without the effervescent Sabine in it.”

“I completely agree. Heard the mountain gave you one hell of a time that day.”

“I can’t lie. There was a touch-and-go gray area right after the avalanche, but thankfully the rescue crew knew their shit. What are you drinking? Tonight’s on me.”

“Appreciate it, but can’t let that happen.”

“My town, my rules. Besides, it’s the least I can do to show you my gratitude for looking out for her. Now, pick your poison. Waitress is on her way over now.”

I turn to Sabine. “What would you like?”

“A glass of merlot sounds tasty.”

Aldo calls out, My buddy’s tending bar tonight and I asked him to reserve this space for us; can’t believe how packed it is in here. Never seen a Saturday night like this.”

The tall blonde walks over, sporting a tray and a friendly smile. Aldo says, “Hey, Anna, can we get a glass of merlot for my cousin and ….” He looks to me.

“Double Blanton’s, neat,” I tell her.

“You got it. Anything else?.”

Aldo says, “That should do it for now. Thanks, gorgeous. Be sure to put everything on my tab. We’re celebrating.”

“You got it, handsome.”

We all take a seat. Aldo looks down at his phone then tells us, “Ben just texted. He and his girl Lana are looking for parking. Bastard’s always running late.”

Sabine looks behind us at the funky backlit bar that’s continuously changing colors. “I don’t remember Harper’s ever being this modern,” she says.

“Yeah, the owner’s been upping his game lately, paying through the nose for renovations and music. Heard tonight’s DJ is coming in from Billings.”

“Wow, nice.” She runs her palm across my knee as I lean back, draping my arms along the back of the plush furniture.

“When did you get into town, Roark?”

“ ’Bout seven hours ago.”

“What do you think of Bozeman?”

“Seems like a cool place so far, but to be honest, my attention has only been focused in one direction since I arrived, so it’s hard to say.” I stroke Sabine’s bare shoulder and grin.

“Smooth,” he says with a laugh. “I like that one. Need to remember it.”

I shrug and he glances over at the front door then stands up to wave through the crowd at a couple that has just stepped inside. As they approach, Aldo calls out above the funky strains of “I Can’t Feel My Face,” “Hey, Lana, piece of advice, you need to buy Ben a watch for his birthday. Slack asshole.”

They make their way around the seating area and Ben replies sarcastically, “Save it, Borgia, there’ve been countless times we’ve sat around waiting on your dumb ass. Isn’t that right, Sabine?” He looks over at her, eyes mock-pleading for help.

She shakes her head. “No comment. Ben, Lana, this is Roark.”

Lana gives a smile and a wave as Ben leans across the frosted round table to grip his hand, telling him jokingly, “Glad to meet you, and I’m sure you’ve already figured out that Sabine is the one with manners in this hot-headed Italian clan.”

Aldo gives Ben’s knee a playful smack. “Sit the fuck down, Ben. Makin’ me look bad in front of Roark. You can be a total douche sometimes.”

Ben offers Lana a seat and settles in, mumbling, “Look who’s talking.”

Sabine rolls her eyes. “They’re always like this, especially when we travel together, and it gets worse when there’s alcohol involved.”

The waitress returns, sets the drinks down in the center of the table, and disappears in a rush back into the boisterous crowd.

Aldo says, “Speaking of which, I might not be able to tackle a slope by fall, but that won’t stop me from traveling if you guys are game. Where should we head next? Heard there’s some sick powder in Austria. Who’s in?”

“Oh!”

Before anyone can utter a word, Sabine leaps to her feet, beer dripping from her hair and clothing. As if in slow motion, I stand up and turn around, looking for the source. The guy is still holding the nearly empty pint glass, laughing his ass off with his buddies, clearly fucked up and not giving a shit that he just dumped his entire drink all over my girl. I lean across the back of the sectional, grab his shoulder roughly, and shout over the blaring music, “Yo! Apologize!”

I still have a firm hold of him when he twists around to face me. One look at my furious face and he realizes the gravity of his drunken error. His buddies have stopped laughing and it’s clear that they’re ready to back him up if shit goes down. No matter, I’ve faced worse odds and against far meaner assholes on the ice. His eyes shift to Sabine then back to me as he offers an apology. “Hey man, sorry ’bout that. We started earlier than usual tonight. Drink went flyin’ from my buddy’s joke.”

I tell him tightly, “She’s the one owed the apology, not me.”

He frowns, clearly not used to being told what to do, especially around his friends, but I’m not dropping this until he shows her some respect. He looks over to Sabine and awkwardly says, “Really sorry about that. I’ll have the bartender send you guys a round on me.”

I nod and he turns away. One of his buddies is still glancing over the guy’s shoulders at us.

Sabine touches my arm. It’s clear that she’s upset and embarrassed. “Come on, let’s get out of here. I need to change. We can meet up with everyone later tonight.”

Goddamn it, how did this bullshit happen? What a dick.

“Get your purse.”

I take her hand and lead us out of the restaurant, knowing that if I had the chance I’d do the exact same thing all over again. Disrespect isn’t something I tolerate and disrespecting the woman I love is absolutely unacceptable. Period.

* * *

He’s still tense from the confrontation.

We’re standing out front on the sidewalk of Harper’s when I say, “Hey, Roark, look at me.”

He squares his shoulders and stares down into my eyes.

“You didn’t have to defend me like that.”

He looks at me like I just backhanded him across the face. He wastes no time coming back with, “Yeah, I sure as hell did. He needed to apologize for spilling that beer on you, ruining your pretty dress. A real man would have done that immediately. And for the record, I knew what I was doing in there. Haven’t been in a fight in over a year now and I plan to keep it that way, so please don’t think I’m some uneducated street thug.”

I’m shocked by his brusque statement and shake my head, telling him, “No, I would never think that. It’s just that it’s really strange for me to be with a guy who sticks up for me like you did in there. I was just about to turn around and tell him he was a jerk when you stepped in.”

“You deserve to be treated like a queen. You’re an elegant, beautiful woman, Sabine. My woman. And I hope what happened back there didn’t scare you. Please understand that I would never, and I mean never lay a hand on you, swear on a stack of Bibles, baby. The last thing on earth I ever want is for you to be afraid or wary of me. I had it all in check. I wouldn’t have started a fight with him.”

“Roark, I know you, and there’s no way you’d ever hurt someone who didn’t have it coming.”

Aldo’s excited voice has us both turning around. “Damn, son! I’ve never seen anyone hand Brock his ass like you did in there, making him apologize to Sabine and all that. Fucking epic! And believe me, that twat has had what you just gave him coming for years now … and I mean years, brother. He’s the town’s biggest jackass and no one has ever had the balls to stand up to him … till now.”

We both stare at him, not certain how to respond to his animated rant. He continues, “Just paid the tab. Let’s head across town to Southside Brewery. Should be way more chill there.”

Ben and Lana are standing beside him, Lana checking the door to make certain we’re not being followed.

I tell them impatiently, “We’ll meet you there. I need to change and my hair stinks.”

Lana says, “Cool. Looking forward to hanging out. Don’t take too long.”

His hand is nestled in the small of my back, gently guiding me over to my parked car. He opens the driver’s side door for me before rounding the front of my red Subaru to hop inside. I’m just about to turn the key when his warm hand closes over mine.

I turn and stare at his face, half-hidden in the inky shadows of night. “Wait,” he says. “I have something I want to ask you.”

My heart begins to race as I ask, “What is it?”

“I want you to come live with me in Alaska. This being apart shit is eating me alive and to be honest, with my work schedule there’s no telling how often I can swing through Bozeman. Might be months at a time that we don’t see each other.”

My heart sinks. In a shaky voice I fumble for the words that are so impossibly hard to get out. “Roark, I’m sorry, but that’s not possible.”

His shoulders jerk back an inch and his face is rigid as I continue, trying my best to explain, “You were right back in Alaska. I do have PTSD. I was diagnosed with it three weeks ago and need to go to therapy twice a week. I was going to tell you but wanted to wait for the right time. I need to be here for my therapy. You’ll always own a large part of my heart, but my family means the world to me and if I move so far away, to remote Alaska, it wouldn’t be healthy for me right now. Roark, God this is so hard ….”

Slowly, ever so slowly, he asks, “So that’s it? You’re never going to see me again?”

My hand trembles beneath his as I tell him honestly, “I love you, but I don’t see how we can make it work between us. This distance thing is too great and seeing you only few times a year isn’t enough. I can’t effectively run my business from up there because it would be next to impossible to acquire inventory, and that doesn’t even factor in the shipping times, which would definitely be challenging. It’s an unhealthy situation for both of us; the waiting and hoping is just too much to bear. I wish there was a solution. Forgive me. I’m sorry, Roark.”

His eyes look vacant and haunted. Without another word, he removes his hand from mine, reaches for the door handle, and walks out of my world. I’m too stunned to cry, and the only thing I can feel is the lingering warmth from his fingers that covered mine only seconds before.

Chapter Thirteen

Fourth of July Weekend

Bozeman, Montana

“You sure I can’t get you a croissant or something?”

Aldo waves his hand across my face and asks again, “Helloooo … earth to Sabine, you want something to eat? You look like shit. When’s the last time you slept?”

My eyes drift to his. “No, I’m okay. Actually, I need to get back to work.”

He looks annoyed, throws his arms up in the air, and says too loudly, “You’re a fucking recluse. All you do is work to avoid feeling anything, Sabine! You haven’t been out with us in months and if you don’t get your act together and patch things up with Roark soon, I’m gonna take a flight up there and do it for you, ’cause your moping is fucking up all our good vibes! And believe me, what I just said is what all of us are thinking.”

I frown at him, knowing he’s right and silently hoping that it’s not too late for what I have in mind. My actions caused him to walk out of my life, and I need to fix it, but I have to be prepared. Who could blame him if he’s moved on to someone else by now?

“Well?”

I shrug and lean in, practically hissing, “Well what, Aldo? Christ, can you please just let me handle this?”

“Screw that! You could’ve invited him to live with you, Sabine. Ever think of that possibility?”

“No, that wouldn’t be fair. He just started a new life there, and it was exactly what he needed after all the hell he’s been through. His semi wouldn’t even fit on my street! Please, Aldo, trust me to make my own decisions; I assure you that I have it covered. Can we change up the topic?”

He shakes his head, mumbling something about women being headstrong. Leaning back, he balances the chair on two legs, fingers twined around the back of his neck and says, “Ben’s having a cookout tonight at seven. We’re all hoping you’ll show.”

Finally … Something other than Roark.

Even the mention of his name feels like a hot brand on my heart.

Before I can answer, the chair drops forward and he leans around me to look out the wide picture window of the café. Eyes gleaming, he exclaims, “Whoa! Take a look at those massive dogs.”

I twist around to see what’s gotten him so excited. All the air leaves my lungs in a rushing whoosh as I stare in shock. Not fifteen feet away, leashed to a bench, are Gauge and Flynn, tongues hanging out, happily allowing anyone who passes by to pet them.

Before I have a chance to look for him, that smooth, familiar voice that has infiltrated my thoughts for months now floats down to me through the crowded café, “Hello Sabine.”

I swivel back around and stare up into his face, that magnificent face that sets my body on fire with one glance.

Aldo leaps to his feet, grinning. Offering Roark a firm handshake, he says, “Holy shit! Good to see you again, man. You in town long?”

Roark smiles confidently. “Yeah, actually I am, Aldo. Meeting with a realtor later today to hopefully find a new house over on the Gallatin River.”

My jaw drops as Aldo slaps Roark on the back. “No fucking shit! That’s awesome, brother. You’re gonna love it here. Gonna make it my mission to show you around. Damn, you’ll have to come over to Ben’s tonight to celebrate. Gotta run. You two obviously have a lot of catching up to do so I’ll leave you to it. Later, Roark. See you tonight, Sabine.”

He pins me with a ‘told you so’ sly grin and disappears through the crowded café before I can tell him goodbye.

I’m still trying to process what’s happening when Roark pulls out a chair. “Mind if I sit with you?”

I stumble across my words, sounding awkward and nervous. “No, of course not. Here, please.”

I’m hoping beyond hope that this is it, the turning point, my shot at repairing the damage.

He leans across the small black table, reaching for my hand. Giving it a tight squeeze, he says quietly, “Missed you bad, baby. Just came from your shop. Your friend Trisha sent me here.”

My body is humming with excitement as I gush, “Roark … oh God, it’s so good to see you. I didn’t know if we’d ever see each other again. Especially after how things went ….”

His eyes are blazing with what I read as joy and desire as he tells me, “Hey … I did. And I just needed time to figure out how to make it so those gorgeous eyes of yours stare just like that across from me in bed each and every morning. I got your voicemail last night when I was on the way here. Not gonna lie, shocked the hell outta me. Took everything I had not to call you right back, but I wanted to surprise you in person. It wasn’t right of me to ask you to drop everything you’ve worked for to start a new life in Alaska. Now, enough of the sentimental bullshit … you wanna come with me to check out some listings? It’s the house I hope you’ll live in with me someday soon.”

I can’t hold back the laughter. My shoulders are shaking as I ask through the giggles, “This is so surreal. Do you want to know why I called you after so many months, Roark?”

He looks confused. “Why?”

“Because I realized that life is about give and take, and that is especially true with love. My work, my life, all of it is lacking and empty without you in it, so I took the initiative and hired another assistant in hopes that your offer still stands. I could live part of the year with you in Alaska and maybe when your schedule is really hectic, I could run my business from Bozeman and spend time with my family. I’ve made huge strides in my therapy and only go as needed now. I want a future for us, and I’m willing to do my part to make that happen. That’s why I called.”

He looks shocked at first, not saying anything. Long seconds pass before he says softly, “You’d do that for me?”

I lean across so only he can hear me whisper, “My heart can’t function without you.”

“Sabine?”

“Yes?”

“Get your fine ass in my lap … now, angel.”

Passion explodes inside me as I practically leap out of my chair to throw my arms around him, kissing him with everything I have.

He could care less that we’re surrounded by people. He grabs me possessively as his lips take charge, drawing out the kiss. Then, nuzzling my cheek, he murmurs, “You’re everything to me. Would’ve been here sooner but as usual, work has had me going non-stop, that and the house was on the market. Just sold it a week ago. The boys and I packed up and here we are, ready to chase our dreams. So there’s no need for you to go anywhere now. Still, you should keep your new assistant ’cause I got a feeling my girl’s bound and determined to set the eBay world on fire.”

I whisper into his ear, “Roark, I knew I was in love with you from that first morning we cooked pancakes together. That love has only intensified since we’ve been apart. I just never thought we’d be so lucky to have it work out between us. I never wanted you to give up your dreams of living in Alaska.”

He kisses my cheek, ignoring the smiles from the nearby customers as he stares into my eyes. “My dreams, my hope for the future, are right here, Sabine.”

I snuggle into that delicious heat, breathing in his scent, the one I’ve longed for desperately these past lonely months.

Finally he asks, “Can you get some free time the first of August?”

“I think so. For how long?”

“A week, maybe a few days longer.”

“I’ll make it happen. Why?”

Looking like an excited kid on Christmas morning, he rushes to say, “I’m taking us to Tahiti.”

My breath catches, and before I can form a response, he leans in, cupping the back of my neck and pulling me in for a soft, lazy kiss that leaves me with that crazy feeling of intoxication I’ve missed so terribly. He stops only to whisper against my lips, “Always thought of going there, and there’s no place on earth I’d rather kick back and admire your gorgeous body in a bikini. So, is that a definite ‘yes,’ my sweet angel? If so, I’m booking everything tonight … hopefully buck-ass naked with you in bed.”

I glance around, mortified that people around us have heard him before whispering, “You realize that you are completely crazy, right?”

“Yup, been told that countless times. So, you haven’t answered me. Will you be my sexy Tahitian princess?”

I press my forehead to his. My heart is in full gallop as I tell him, “I’d follow you anywhere; you’re that magnetic.”

“That’s real good, sweetheart, ’cause I’m on a mission to make sure you’re always smiling that radiant smile of yours. Missed it real bad, baby.”

The endearing look in his eyes tells me that he means the tender statement with every fiber of his being.

Tilting my head, I press my lips against his, silently telling him how incredibly special he is. The kiss begins to turn heated, slick tongues sneaking out to probe and explore. Finally we both reluctantly pull away.

His breathing is uneven as he asks, “So, how ’bout it? Ready to go house hunting with me, Sabine?”

I grab hold of his hand and slide off his lap, exclaiming, “Absolutely. And you know what?”

“Tell me, gorgeous.”

“It’s a perfect day for it.”

Epilogue

Tahiti

One Month Later, Dusk

“Here, give me the end of your paddle, darlin’, and I’ll pull you against the dock.”

Her red and white paddleboard bobs gently on the serene water. I watch as she does her best to keep her balance, extending the black, double-sided paddle over to me. I reach out and grasp the tip. Her eyes are gleaming, as blue as the water under her feet. Once she’s close I get hold of her forearm, steadying her as she hops onto the long, sun-bleached dock, cheeks flushed. “Can we go again in the morning?” she asks. “That was so surreal. I can’t believe those giant turtles swam right beneath us.”

I reach down and haul her board out of the water. Looking up, I say, “Whatever makes my beauty happy.”

“Mmm, you spoil me, you know that, right?”

“Oh!” she screeches as I smack her bikini-clad ass hard, telling her playfully, “You make it very easy to spoil you, Sabine. C’mon, let’s head back to the bungalow. Nature is nice and all that, but I need some serious alone time with my girl … now. I’m in agony, baby.”

She places her hand on my chest, teasing, “What? Did you pull something?”

“Nope.”

“No?”

I smile wickedly, slinging my arm over her shoulder and whispering into her ear, “Looking at your tight, suntanned body for the last two hours has left my cock feeling like it’s a throbbing tire iron in my board shorts. If I don’t get some relief from your sexiness soon, there’s no telling what might happen.”

“Sounds dangerous—”

“Oh, believe me, for you it definitely will be. Extremely so. Good thing we’re only a short walk from our place because the second we step inside, that sinister little black bikini is history.”

She runs a few steps ahead of me, tossing out over her shoulder, “Savage!”

I shout, “That’s nothing new. You’ve known it all along, sweetheart. That’s what keeps you coming back for more … time after time. Deny it all you like.”

I catch up to her just as she’s stepped off the dock and onto the beach. She gasps as I haul her up over my right shoulder while she playfully smacks against my back. I make a beeline across the hot, silky sand to another nearby dock that leads far out to our thatched-roof bungalow. We pass by a couple from Atlanta we met when we arrived yesterday afternoon. The guy’s giving me a devilish, knowing grin as they head the opposite way, dressed up for dinner.

Ours is the eighth bungalow on the right, the one that juts farthest out over the ocean. When I booked the place, I made sure of it. I’ve never been somewhere this exotic before, and I wanted it to be unforgettable for us both. At the door, I slide her down, keeping her pressed tightly against me as I reach around for the handle. I kiss her hard before backing us inside. Things turn wild after I slam the door shut with my right foot. She’s already working the strings of my shorts and in seconds they’re pulled straight down my hips. My hands are all over her, caressing her shoulders, neck and face. Our lips are still locked together, no words needed. Words have always been beside the point with us; we communicate in a humming current of mutual understanding and insatiable lust. The string at the center of her back isn’t coming undone and I give an impatient growl, warning her that I’m gonna rip that shit off if she doesn’t do something about it … fast. She licks once against my lips and reaches back to fuck around with the bow. In a second the black fabric drops straight down to the floor, releasing those perfect, full breasts.

Gotta have a taste ….

I kneel down, cupping each one, savoring first her left nipple, nipping and teasing it into a hard bud before moving over to give the same attention to the right one. She watches me closely, her gorgeous face a mask of desperate need. Her fingers feel so fucking right threading though my hair.

I press my face into the center of her chest. “Say it!” I command her. “Tell me what you want. I need to hear it.”

He breath catches as she begs, “I want you to lay me down on the floor, cover me with your powerful body and fuck me into oblivion, and after I come all over your thick cock, I want you to flip us over and I want to ride you harder and wilder than I’ve ever done before, watching your face as you come undone for me, feeling you release inside of me. Roark, that’s what I need right now.”

I stare up at her, awestruck. “Jesus Christ, woman, where did you come from?”

She pulls the strings on either side of the bikini bottoms and the material falls away. I feel like my eyes might pop out of my head from the flawless beauty she has going on down there. Every time I see her I’m always left reeling. She places her small hands against my shoulders and lowers herself down to face me. Her eyes are shining as she touches each side of my face, telling me, “I was lowered out of a helicopter, straight to you. The scariest but most worthwhile ride of my life, the one that forced our worlds to collide, Roark.”

She places a feather-soft kiss in the center of my lips, pulling back to add, “I know this might sound ridiculous, but I find you so incredibly beautiful, Roark. You’re like this radiant force that just slays me with every look, every touch, every word ….”

I don’t give her a chance to finish. Before she’s able to take her next breath, I have her trapped beneath me, both arms wrapped tight around her. I nudge her knees wide apart, pin her down, and push into her, moaning at how fucking wet she always is for me. She cries out at the aggressive entry, lips parted as she huffs out sexy little breaths.

I’m seated deep inside of her, one thread away from madness when she begs me in a halting voice, “Take out all of your aggression on me, Roark. You know we both need it that way.”

That does it. Holy Fuck.

I shove up onto both forearms and begin slamming into her, marveling at the vision before me, the woman who owns my heart. Her hair fans out wildly around her, beautifully backlit against the glass-bottom floor, colorful fish moving through the turquoise water just inches below her gleaming body. Trusting eyes filled with carnal lust stare up at me. Mutual completeness.

My voice is a desperate, raw rasp as I say, “Reach down and rub your clit for me, baby.”

A low whimper of pleasure escapes her throat, and I feel her hand slip down between us. Her fingers begin stroking lightly. Knowing she’s so close makes me completely crazed. I go harder, driving her in a fast, controlled motion, nearly exploding when I feel her begin to tighten around me.

Oh, shit yeah ….

I grind my teeth together in a desperate attempt to hold back as she peaks, reaches ecstasy beneath me, screaming out as the spasms tear through her like a hurricane.

“That’s right … cum all over me, baby! That’s right, keep it going strong!”

The clenching is blowing my mind. She’s still shattering hard when I grip her tight and flip us over so that she’s on top, riding me.

I don’t have to tell her what to do. Her body takes over for her, hips grinding up and down in a smooth, grinding rhythm that’s hypnotic to watch.

I practically hiss up to her, “C’mere. Need that mouth, Sabine. Wanna taste you when I come.” I’m right on the verge and I know she can sense it.

She plants her palms down on either side of my head and drops her shoulders. Her warm little mouth finds mine and our tongues go wild, swirling against each other. Sweat is dripping down her neck from the crazed sex and I realize she’s never been more primal and gorgeous than in this moment.

I tear my mouth away and ask in a rasp, “Can you take me brutal? Just for a few stokes? Need that bad right now.”

“Yes, Roark! Show me what you want.”

I’ll show you everything ….

I grip her waist and haul her forward, only to force her right back down onto my aching cock. She screams but I keep going, pounding into her hard, knowing from her face that she loves being guided, controlled, and dominated by her man. Two more strokes is all it takes before my body explodes, skyrocketing me to a place that this mysterious creature alone is capable of taking me. The orgasm is so fierce that every hair on my body stands on end. My guttural shouts are bouncing off the thatched roof as her sweat-slicked body collapses on top of mine in a gorgeous, exhausted little heap.

My brain slowly reconnects to my body and I wrap my arms around her damp back as we lie together in blissed-out silence. A satisfied little yawn comes out of her mouth. I dip my chin, brushing her hair away from her flushed face, and ask smugly, “Liked that, did you?”

She inches up to kiss the tip of my nose as she purrs, “Just to stroke your ego, that would be a resounding yes. I’m a complete Roark addict.”

I cough out a laugh and ask her slowly, carefully, “Would you like a lifetime of this, Sabine? Of us?”

She blinks and tilts her head, her playful smile swiftly turning inquisitive. “Are you asking what I think?”

“Yeah, baby, I am. Because I don’t want another sunset to happen without holding you close. I want to protect you for a lifetime from whatever dangers might come your way, and angel, you say that you’re addicted to me; well, now that the truth is out, you need to know that I’ve been completely fascinated with that inner light you seem to radiate so effortlessly ever since the moment we met, Sabine. Living together is amazing—don’t get me wrong—but I want you, want this forever with you. Want it official, that is, if you’ll honor me by saying yes, that you’ll become my wife?”

I’ve never seen anyone light up like that before. She’s practically glowing as she hugs my neck tight for a long moment before answering in a trembling voice, “Oh, Roark …. Yes, of course I’ll marry you. I promise I’ll devote a lifetime to making you happy.”

The moment the words slip from her lips, something happens inside me. My heart swells. It’s on the verge of rupturing—not from pain, but from a love so pure and strong that it might as well be forged in steel. I hold her tight, nearly crushing her in my arms, practically sobbing against her hair. “Jesus, thank you. Thank you for saving me, Sabine.”

Against my temple she replies in the softest, gentlest voice, the voice of an angel, “We saved each other, my love.”

* * *

Erotic romance author Christine Edwards grew up in the South on Hilton Head Island. At an early age she developed a passion for the arts that led her to earn a bachelor’s degree in art history from the College of Charleston in South Carolina. Christine has a special place in her heart for reading and writing erotic tales.

She continues to publish stories that immerse readers in exotic and realistic geographic settings amid interesting subcultures of adult life. Within the vein of BDSM romance, her main focus is on loving, multifaceted relationships involving intense alpha males and feisty heroines.

An avid skier, she will take on just about anything that is vertical. Christine resides in the deep South.

Please visit Christine online:

www.christineedwardsauthor.com

Twitter: @ceerotica

Table of Contents

- Prologue
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Epilogue