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‘I’ve yet to hear what this reasonable request is.’
‘You want me to spell it out?’
‘Just so we’re clear, yes.’
‘You. Me. In the tent. Tonight. Doing whatever you were planning to do.’
Her words were deliberately phrased to get a rise out of me. And fuck, did they just. My cock
hardened at the imagery, my gaze unable to shift from the perfect curve of her lips. No wonder she had men in a lather all over the globe.
She already had me in a lather, all over the innocuous idea of spending the night in a tent under the Alaskan sky. Time to defuse this before it got out of hand.
‘I always travel with a tent. You don’t know when the weather will turn. Or when a night shoot will reap rewards.’
‘What particular reward were you hoping for?’
I shrugged. ‘The forecast is for a clear night. I was hoping to score a borealis on video as part of the project.’
I caught the faintest hitch of her breath. She didn’t outwardly show her excitement, but the thought of witnessing anaurora borealiswas a phenomenon most people rhapsodised over.
She slowly lowered her heels and slipped her shades back on, but even with the shield, I felt the
power of her hypnotising stare. ‘In that case I’m going to have to insist on staying,’ she said after several seconds.
My pulse tripped, then raced at full speed. The thought of spending the long hours of the night with her in a tent, a woman even the most red-blooded alpha males feared, filled me with equal measures
of dread and anticipation.
Overlay that with the persistent thought that she could be a Domme...
Again, where I should’ve refused, I found myself shrugging, moving to the back of the sled to grab
a thicker anorak. Returning to where she stood watching me, I held it out. ‘It’s a bit of a trek,
sometimes over rough terrain. Bumps and bruises are unavoidable but wear this and you won’t freeze
to death.’
She took the anorak and shrugged it over her suit, then sent me another spine-tingling smile.
‘Thanks. And when we arrive at our destination, you can tell me what her name is.’
I froze. ‘Excuse me?’
‘The name behind the baggage you’re running away from. I’m sure she has one. I’d love to hear
about her.’
CHAPTER THREE
I WATCHED HIM attend to the dogs, his movements efficient, capable, and yet sexily streamlined in a way that made me want to watch him on an endless loop. Which was absurd in itself, because I was
used to beautiful men, wealthy, filthily pampered men who strutted about, cushioned by power and
privilege.
Even hardened men like my brothers, Gideon and Bryce, who had been through their own versions