Читать книгу Chinook, Wine and Sink Her - Morgan Q O'Reilly - Страница 9

Chapter 4

Stomping down the trail wasn’t very mature, but it made her feel better. Linnet had to laugh at herself. The stunned look on his face must have been priceless.

Still trembling, she paused for a moment then continued along the trail. She’d been unfair, she knew it. Plain and simple—she was scared. Frightened to death. Terrified of being used and humiliated again. Pushing away with anger was her outlet, her test. If he pushed back now, she’d pack up and leave tonight. If he left her alone and respected her distance, she might be willing to share a meal or two, maybe even invite him in for coffee in the mornings. Might even welcome more kisses. Eventually.

Men. The biggest problems of her life. She loved her job and was good at it. Almost too good. Better than most men felt she should be.

California had been the worst as far as chauvinism went. Two years ago, one assignment had involved backpacking into the Sierras. She had the skills required for checking on the high mountain lake where it had been reported fish were dying for no apparent reason and no other women had been available to go along.

Refusing to let her go alone, her supervisor had picked the man he considered the least threatening as her hiking partner. When they’d returned, mission accomplished, the very same supervisor had refused to listen when she told him how sweet Billy James had doctored her tea, pulled her out of her sleeping bag and raped her. Repeatedly. All night long.

They’d been a three day hike away from anywhere and she’d had nowhere to go. Hiking out by herself would have foolhardy. Unable to sleep and suspicious of their food and water supplies after that, she’d been an incoherent, dehydrated, hysterical wreck when they’d gotten back, her condition making her story more unbelievable.

Billy hadn’t been violent about it. Hadn’t hit her or physically hurt her—at least not that she could remember. He’d just taken advantage of the situation. The pieces she’d eventually put together were fairly simple.

The night they’d arrived at the lake, debilitating exhaustion had overcome her after dinner. She remembered thinking it odd that only three days of hiking and the altitude could have sucked so much energy from her. Supposing it was her period coming on, she’d downed the last of the tea Billy had made for her and crawled into her sleeping bag in everything but her boots, just as she’d been sleeping every night of the trip.

Hindsight now told her he’d put a date-rape drug in her tea. What memories she had were vague and disturbingly erotic. The next morning she’d awakened groggy and sore... wrapped only in Billy’s arms. According to him, she’d come to him naked and needy, begging him to fuck her. All he’d done, he said, was take care of a lady’s needs. It didn’t feel right, and of course, he denied drugging her.

Upon returning to Sacramento, she’d driven herself to the hospital, shaking from lack of food, water and cramping from the start of her period. They’d run the tests but more than seventy-two hours had passed and they could find no signs she’d been forced or drugged.

Her fiancé at the time, Henry, had taken her home after a night of IV rehydration and reluctantly held her as she’d tried to tell him what had happened, or what she thought had happened. Though he’d said the right words, the look in his eyes and the tone of his voice had been doubtful, his hold reluctant and cold rather than comforting.

If only it had stopped there. But no, Billy’d had to open his mouth. Whispers had followed her around the office until Linnet learned he’d bragged about how he’d made her come over and over again. As the story went, he’d been only too happy to play stud service and make the frigid bitch scream. Convinced he’d unearthed the fiery vixen within her, he’d continued to pursue her, making her life hell in the office.

Unable to sleep, she’d suffered from sheer exhaustion until one day she’d fallen asleep at her desk despite several cups of coffee. Several hours later, she’d awakened on the sofa in her boss’s office. Though her boss was sitting in his chair behind his desk, he’d been watching her with an odd look on his face.

After telling her he’d brought her there for her own safety, he’d told her one more incident like that and he’d insist on drug testing. As it was, she was to consider herself on probation and he’d be watching her. Her work performance had been slipping and she was in danger of losing her job. Confused and groggy, she’d felt ashamed and extremely uncomfortable as she’d stumbled from the office and home to revive herself in a hot shower.

The next day she’d begun making appointments. A handful of lawyers had each sympathized, then advised her to quit and move. Taking it to court was risky at best. A case of he said-she said. No witnesses, no evidence. Nobody up the chain of command believed her or would listen.

Billy had gotten a slap on the wrist for fraternization and she got a warning in her file for insubordination along with a reputation for being a snooty, but lively and exciting, lay. Everyone had hit on her then and it was either endure the comments and pawing or move on. No other option left, six months later, her engagement a memory, she’d quit and found the job in Alaska.

She stopped her march at the creek and looked around. All was quiet and she set her supplies on a large dry rock. Manley’s yelp came through the trees and, as expected, a moment later, he bounded down the slope behind her and danced to a stop at her feet.

“Well, hello, there. I thought you’d forgotten all about me.” Great, pouting to the dog now. Contrite, she bent and spent a moment petting him. “I’m sorry Manley. I know you like him, but not all men are honorable. They’ll take advantage of a woman every single time.” A tear of self pity slid down her cheek. Angry with herself, she wiped it away and stood. A long hot soak would feel great.

One of the true prizes of this bit of land was the narrow creek before her. Now stripped of every flake of gold that had ever dreamed of settling there, the main attraction was the hot spring up the hill that fed into it. A remnant of mining days, a sluice funneled water from up the hill and allowed a bather to direct the water into an old cast-iron claw-foot tub. A genuine antique that made Linnet sigh with happiness.

Countless times she’d blessed the woman who had most likely insisted on it. How it got there, she hadn’t a clue and didn’t care. What she cared about was it straddled a small stream feeding the creek that drained into the Yukon a hundred yards away and could be filled with the most delicious hot mineral water she’d ever come across.

The spring wasn’t much more than a steady trickle, so she’d come here before dinner, plugged the tub and started filling it with the steaming water. A perfect one-hundred-five degrees when it came out of the ground, it usually hovered around a hundred-three when the tub was full. Completely full, right up to the brim until it overflowed. Like an infinity pool, the sluice poured the water over the side of the tub, continually refreshing it. When she was done, all she had to do was pull the plug, move the sluice away and let the tub drain. No icky, slimy growths allowed. To keep it clean, she had a bear-proof bucket nearby with baking soda and a sponge for scrubbing. The perfect system for cleansing and renewing her spirit.

Listening to the woods, Linnet looked around again. Only a narrow strip of the river could be seen through the trees. Doubtful anyone could look up and see her as they floated past. A rocky cliff, about eight-feet high, that the creek tumbled over, provided a wall behind the tub. Once in the water, she had a clear view side to side and down hill. No one could sneak up on her. With shaking fingers, she began unbuttoning her shirt.

The reasonable side of her, the one that hated confrontations, reminded her she’d have to face Creed. Maybe even explain.

How could she? It wasn’t any of his business. She didn’t even know him. Only knew she was living in his cabin. What was to stop him from leaving his tent and moving inside? Her? Manley? What a mess. She was supposed to be out here alone.

Sleeping in the truck again was always a short term option. An older Norwegian gentleman had stopped one night to sleep out of the rain. She’d waited until he’d turned in, loaded the woodstove to keep him warm through the chilly night, then bundled up on the back seat of her truck with Manley to sleep. Heinrick had never even known she’d left the cabin. Pretending she was coming back from the outhouse the next morning, she’d merely set about making a fresh pot of coffee. They’d shared breakfast and she’d urged him on his way.

Still listening to the woods, she folded the shirt and removed her jeans. Each item of clothing was rolled together. With the bath bucket in reach, she removed the tie holding up her hair and carefully slipped into the tub. How long would Creed give her before he came looking? If this was his land, then he knew about the tub. Would he appreciate her improvements here as well?

She’d been somewhat dismayed when she’d first spotted the tub. George had left the water spilling into it and some type of algae had been growing along the edges. Happily, he’d warned her and she’d arrived armed with baking soda. All natural cleanser. Not as fast as Comet, but with elbow grease she’d been able to get the tub clean without polluting the creek. Bothered by the rust under the chipped enamel, she’d picked up several cans of enamel spray paint on her one trip back to Fairbanks. Not as good as professional refinishing, nevertheless the inside of the tub was evenly coated with the white paint. Outside, she’d let her creative streak break free.

Starting with a base of moss green paint to match the forest, she’d then embellished it with hand-painted, free-form wild flowers and trees on the sides. It was quite pretty in a rustic, handcrafted sort of way, if she did say so herself. Overall, the little spot had a very natural, garden bath feel to it. A few of the wildflower seeds she’d scattered were growing nicely and she hoped there’d be flowers in a few weeks. Heaven on earth. Surely both Creed and George would appreciate the more sanitary tub.

Linnet had a vision of Creed lounging in it with her, and felt a spike of heat ignite in her center and flash outward.

The double ended tub was the largest of its kind she’d ever seen. Six feet from end to end and nearly three-feet wide. Big enough for her to lie along the bottom and completely submerge. Certainly big enough for the two of them to sit face to face, or back to chest. What was it about him? After only a few hours, how could he intrude on her thoughts this way?

Annoyed with her fantasy and the longing it created in her, despite reliving her hike-of-horror memory, she splashed both away and reached for her bottle of castile soap. Nothing to harm the environment here. In the woods, she made an effort to be as natural as possible and the tea-tree oil in the soap helped soothe the small scratches and insect bites she picked up on a daily basis.

Usually she enjoyed the ritual of lathering her hair then standing to let the soap bubbles run down her body while she scrubbed with the brush. She wasn’t so off men that she never thought of them, but her fantasy man had never had a face to distract her. Tonight the image of Creed, with genuine warmth in his eyes, intruded on the experience.

It was too easy to imagine him using the cloth and brush to cover every inch of her skin, washing away the day’s dirt and aches from work, building new aches of desire. The bristles of her brush became his rough palms in her mind and she whimpered at the sensation of them scraping over her nipples, teasing between her legs. If she was a tad more thorough about scrubbing herself, there was no one to know.

Knees quaking with the need for release, she sank back down into the water, sliding under the surface to rinse. Thinking it would wash him from her system, she allowed herself to imagine his hands in her hair, loosening the strands, combing the soap into the water.

She felt like a nymph, her hands skimming across her skin. After writhing under the surface as long as she could, she broke the surface with a gasp. Cool air touched her needy nipples and she indulged, pinching and rolling them, in her fantasy begging her fantasy lover to pull harder. Creed, how easily his name came to her lips, how effortlessly it rolled off the tongue.

* * * *

At the sound of his name, Creed nearly broke into a run. It was the tone of the cry that stopped him. Breathless and… what was that timbre? Passion?

“Yes!” her soft cry carried through the woods. Ah. Passion. A moment of self pleasure while thinking of him? He was ready to make it mutual pleasure. Now. Five minutes ago. He moved to step forward then stopped again.

He didn’t want to repeat his last several attempts at relations with the female half of the species. There were several positives where women were concerned—they looked compatible to men, and he loved their structural design just for a start. Enough of the baffling creatures came on to him that satisfaction was relatively easy to maintain.

What happened the next day was another matter. And with Linnet, there would be a next day. And a few more. Plenty of good reasons to think before instigating a merger.

It had been at least a year since his last local liaison, and with good reason. Usually he didn’t want to see them past the first time he returned to the Slope. By then they clung to him, wanting him to call nightly, pressing for more and more from him as the weeks went on until they exploded in frustration. The harder they pushed, the faster he withdrew. Once past the explosion he rarely saw them again. Or if he did, they’d warned the others of their pack he was afraid of commitment.

Yeah, he was afraid of being committed to the mental institute if they didn’t leave him alone. He didn’t understand their subtle signals. Much like wolves, they had their own language and most of the men he knew didn’t understand it either. Those who’d married into the pack seemed the most confused.

Except George. For some reason he always seemed to understand his wife and daughter well enough. Would George understand this situation, though?

The sound of splashing came to him and he crept forward. He had to see what she was doing. All he could see from this angle was her head. There was another path… Manley’s head swung his direction and Creed gave him the hand signal to stay.

A few minutes later, he lay on his stomach and inched toward the edge of the rock over the tub. Bushes growing along the edge provided enough cover she probably wouldn’t see him unless she knew where to look, and the sound of the waterfall should cover his movements.

Perfect. He looked directly down through the clear water and had an eagle’s eye view of the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen. She had the body of a goddess. His hands had already told him that, now his eyes confirmed it.

Lying back in the tub, dark lashes rested against her cheeks like tiny fans. One hand pinched and pulled at her nipples, light mocha against her creamy skin. Not tanned all over. The other hand combed its fingers through the triangle of dark curls between her thighs. If only she would push her hips up toward the surface so he could see better.

“Yes!” she moaned and he watched her mouth open, like a bird looking for a meal. The point of her pink tongue darted out to lick a drop of water from her upper lip and he imagined her licking him.

Biting his lip was the only way he could keep from groaning out loud. Unlikely as it was that she’d hear him, he didn’t want to take the chance. She’d given him more than a handful of mixed signals and he didn’t want to get it wrong this time, since they’d be sharing the cabin for a couple of weeks. Friendly relations on all levels would make life easier and she might even let him move into his own cabin.

A tent. He was sleeping in a tent tonight. Something he hadn’t done out here since he was ten and had wanted to prove how brave he was. Okay, so it had been Solstice, a time when the sun didn’t go down at all and Dad had spent the night in a chair beside the fire pit. Still, Creed was a grown man now and deserved a rock-hard bunk in a warm cabin over a tight sleeping bag on rocky ground.

Below him, she rocked her hips against the fingers between her legs. A hand shoved against his mouth muffled his heavy breathing but it didn’t do much for the erection pressed between his stomach and the rock on the other side of his hard metal-toothed zipper.

“Oh, yes, yes… just… like… that!” she squealed, water splashing wildly from the tub with her gyrations. “Oh… God… Yes!” she cried out again, and his teeth nearly broke skin.

Good grief. Here he was, a thirty-two-year-old man, spying on a woman in her bath. The sexiest woman alive. It made a difference. This wasn’t an ordinary case of Peeping-Tom-itis and definitely more than a plain case of full-blown, cock-aching lust.

It was guard duty. A woman out in the Alaskan Bush on her own. Who knew what kind of terrible beast could burst from the trees and try to devour her? Probably a beast like himself. A beast rock hard and deprived of blood to his brain.

Stop. Think. She stormed out of the cabin to be alone. Just because she’s getting off using your name doesn’t mean she’s thinking of you. Might know another Creed, however unlikely the possibility. He’d only ever heard of one other with the name, and the rock band didn’t count.

Calm for the moment, he looked down again. The waves had subsided and she rested. A goddess. A water nymph. She was perfect and he meant to have her. She stirred below and he watched as she reached for her razor. Moving with graceful languor, she made what he considered a tedious task an erotic episode.

One at a time, she raised long slender legs from the water and tested the smoothness of her skin with long fingers. Sleek muscles rippled under the pale skin. Visions of those legs wrapped around him stole another half pint of blood from his brain. The higher her razor moved, the dizzier he grew.

The true test of his control came when she sat on the far side of the tub and spread her legs wide. She reached for the bottle of soap and lathered thoroughly. Presumably to avoid nicking her most tender skin. Each pull of the razor was agony for Creed watching from above. Tantalizing glimpses kept him pinned to the ground as he maintained surveillance, eyes straining to see each hint of sweet flesh.

At last she rinsed away the soap and used her fingers to test for lingering traces of hair. Not clean shaven, she’d come very close. Well trimmed. Creed wiped a trail of drool from his chin.

A little dental floss was no big deal, the important thing was she was clean. Couldn’t get those secret crevices any cleaner. He’d happily perform quality control if she needed a second opinion. He’d volunteer to be not only her personal inspector but to be in charge of cleanliness as well. Keeping her clean would be a dream job.

Fingers between her legs again, she moaned and slid into the water once more. Creed nearly fell over the cliff and into the tub with her. Deciding he was too close to doing that very thing, he inched backward until he could stand without her seeing him. A flash of bright yellow caught his eye and he peered toward the river.

Rafters, and they were close enough to shore they most likely meant to pull off the river for the night. Could he convince them to use the gravel bar another quarter mile downstream? A glance at the sky told him sunset was near. Another hour at the most. His watch confirmed it—ten o’clock—and it was time to get back. If Linnet wasn’t back at the cabin in twenty minutes, he’d make a show of calling for Manley to get her attention.

“What is it, Manley?” Her soft voice made him stop. “Do you hear something? Okay, keep watch. I’ll get dressed.”

Damn. Creed had been looking forward to pulling her out of the tub. Undercover of her splashing, he circled through the woods and returned to camp just in time to greet four men climbing from the raft.