Page 22

22

ALEX

A lex wasn’t sure whether she should bless Sandra or curse her when they got to Coldfoot and found a reservation for only one room.

Orson stared at the compound in wonder as they drove in.

Coldfoot didn’t deserve the title of “town.” It was just a series of box-like housing units strung together in an overgrown gravel pit. Their room was in one of these, so tiny and industrial that Alex could see Mr. Billionaire’s toes curling. It made the cabin in Tok look amazingly spacious and modern. The bathroom was like an airplane closet, and the paneling was original from the 70s, unbroken by any attempt at art or decor.

It did, somehow, have two beds, twins on opposite sides of the room wrapped in crisp white bedding. An experimental nudge suggested they were bolted down to the floor.

“Only one room,” Orson said, filling up the room himself as they put their luggage down at the foot of each bed.

“Two beds,” Alex pointed out.

“One for sleeping, one for love-making…?” Orson’s eyes were full of hope and mischief.

Alex wasn’t sure that Orson alone would fit in either of the beds, but she’d been thinking about getting him naked again since her headache had finally lifted, halfway between the Yukon River Bridge and the Arctic Circle.

“Let’s test that out,” she suggested. She was in for a penny, in for a pound…and in this case, all in for that promised pounding.

“You are so sexy,” Orson said admiringly as he shut the door behind him.

There were no real illusions of privacy—the walls were paper thin to the next room and anyone in the hallway would hear any noises they made—but Alex had spent the last two days wound to the hilt. Orson wasn’t making it easy on her with his careless grace and sexy sideways come-hither looks.

She wasn’t used to playing coy or pretending to be prudish, and now that they were being honest, she wasn’t going to suddenly start. She stripped off her dusty shirt and kicked off her hiking boots. It was a wild race to nudity, and Orson barely waited for her pants to come off both legs before he was wrestling her down on the bed and driving into her.

The long, rattling trip had been like driving on a vibrator, and Orson slipped between her ready, wet lips without effort. Alex came almost at once, intensely keyed up and hungry for his weight on her. He rested over her just right, filling her at the perfect angle, one leg held high, the other spread beneath them. While she was still recovering from her first orgasm, he flipped her over and found another position to thrust into her. She abandoned her vow to stay quiet, unable to smother all of her cries in the pillow. He knew how to touch her, when to slow down, when to speed up, and when to deny her pleasure to prolong it.

Alex remembered how he’d insisted on her delight at the expense of his in Tok, and hooked her foot around his ankle to twist him under her. “Your turn, sexy,” she growled, scratching his chest hard enough to make red marks under his chest hair.

He only gave a token of resistance before letting her pin his arms above him while she stroked his cock and teased him with her nails using the other hand. He groaned and gritted his teeth, arching his hips in an unspoken plea, but he didn’t fight her hard as she tormented him.

“Alex…”

Was he begging or warning? Alex couldn’t decide.

“Alex…” he said again.

She loved his sexy voice saying her name. It didn’t sound masculine in his mouth, and he wasn’t afraid of her.

“Say it again,” she ordered him.

“Alex!”

She lowered herself down around him and released his arms to straddle him. He took her hips in his hands and pulled her closer, commanding their desperate rhythm as she rode him harder and harder. Alex found another crest of pleasure as he pumped into her at last. They became aware of someone down the hall pounding on the wall as the squeak of the bedsprings slowed and faded away.

“Alex,” he said again.

This was her favorite one yet, full of yearning, satisfaction, and delight.

“We should probably get some dinner and actually sleep,” Orson suggested, after she nearly fell off the bed trying to cuddle beside him. She regretted wasting the big king-size bed in Fairbanks. She didn’t want to sleep by herself tonight, but she wasn’t sure how they would make a twin bed work. Orson was a moose.

No, he was a bear.

And she was his mate.

And she still had no idea what to do with that.