She's the One (14 page)

It was important to her. Her tone, her expression. And he was proud to stare into Alexandra’s eyes and say, “No. Not once.”

“Then that’s all I need to know. Dylan, I get that your marriage left you with trust issues. It’s perfectly understandable. But one day soon? You’ll see that I’m not here to hurt you or Colt and you will be thanking God I got on your plane,” she said with a teasing smile.

A rough chuckle caught him by surprise. He framed her face in his scarred hands, her words a lifeline whether she knew it or not.

“I already am.”

A
LEX STARED INTO
D
YLAN’S FACE
amazed at how much things could change in such a short period of time. She’d waffled about timing and emotions and fear, but what was she waiting for?

He was a good man, a wounded man, and even though it was wrong of her to think she had the faintest power to help or heal anyone, in this sense she believed she could because Dylan
could
trust her and that was healing in itself.

She had no ulterior motives. No secretive plans. The review was written, her job done, her vacation days, and thus the time she could spend with him, decreasing. What was wrong with holding him, making love with him, easing the wounds someone else inflicted by sharing compassion and warmth? Genuine caring?

She wanted what Dylan was able to give her—himself. She craved his touch and tenderness. Was humbled by the concern for her she saw in his eyes, because he didn’t want to hurt her. How many moments in a person’s life gave them this much honesty? This wasn’t about sex at all. It was so much more. Emotions she was too scared to label.

Alex slowly let the throw drop to the floor. Her hands
found his chest, slid up to the top button of his shirt, then down, undoing them one by one. She’d shut and locked the door on her way into the room, something about the night, his mood and hers, telling her this was it. Everyone was asleep, the house quiet.

When Dylan’s shirt was open she pulled his T-shirt from his jeans and slid her hands beneath both, up his rib cage to his tightly muscled pecs. He worked hard and it showed. He wasn’t bulky like a gym rat but lean and firm and broad, the perfect size for a woman to lean on. Even the strong independent type like her.

She shoved the material up and was glad when Dylan finished the job, pulling the layered shirts over his head while she tackled his belt and the button of his jeans.

“You’re getting ahead of me.”

She slid his zipper low, careful of the bulge beneath. “So catch up.”

Her husky order set Dylan’s hands in motion. He skimmed his palms down her back, over her hips, gripped her behind and lifted her into him until she had to forego her pursuit of getting him naked to balance herself and keep from falling into him in an ungraceful heap. Without a word, without a kiss, he lifted her higher, sliding her up his front using sheer strength, until she wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his hips, and bit back a moan when the move brought her thin flannel pants into full contact with the hard length of him.

Dylan somehow managed to swing her around and lower her to the floor atop the throw. And for the first time his mouth brushed hers.

“You’re sure?”

Did he believe himself so unlovable? “I’m sure.” She might not have a lot of sexual experience but she had enough to discern what was real and what wasn’t. This was real. Though flawed and tenuous, it was powerful and true.

Leaning his weight on one arm, Dylan lowered his head for a kiss that used teeth and tongue and unrestrained passion. One kiss, so much feeling.

His lips trailed lower, teasing, nipping the sensitive skin where shoulder and neck met and leaving her awash with goose pimples, clinging to him. His free hand squeezed her breast, his thumb and forefinger tormenting her, before he slid his hand down, lower, beneath the elastic waistband of her pants.

The heat of his breath made her arch, desperate to feel his mouth. Dylan closed his lips over her, material and all. Then off came her flannel pants and underwear and there she lay.

“Beautiful,” he whispered against her stomach, kissing and licking until she gasped and felt around for something to hold on to when Dylan gave her the most heart-stopping kiss imaginable.

“Okay?”

She tried to relax but couldn’t. No one had ever done that to her. Ever. She’d always considered it too intimate, too…personal. But now?

“Talk to me, sweetheart.”

“What do you want me t-to say?”

“Why so tense?”

There was a smile in his voice, one that made her glad she was able to put it there, however unintentionally. “Um…I’ve never…I mean—” her voice was a
bare, revealing whisper “—I have, but not that. I’ve never had…
that
.”

Lying against him the way she was she could feel Dylan’s response to her words. His entire body turned to stone, and with the auroras shimmering and rolling outside the window she saw his smile fade. Was her lack of experience a problem for him? A turnoff?

He released a rough sound and lowered his head, pressing a kiss to her belly. “I like the thought of being your first.”

She wasn’t sure what to do as Dylan shifted lower once more. The tension inside her spread like a fire, her heart pounding out of sync in her chest. All she could do was lie there and feel and hope and wish. Want.

Eyes half-closed, she watched the lights outside the window and tried to breathe when his strokes began again. Slow and soft, teasing. Then harder, firmer. Faster. She arched her back, lifted herself into him. His touch, his mouth, soaring, the sensations too much.

“
Dylan
.” She was on the edge, so close, but she didn’t want it to end this way. She wanted to be joined with him, wanted him inside her where she could feel him and hold him because if for some reason this was all they would ever have, she wanted the closeness more than anything else. “Please.” She gripped his arms, moved to dislodge him and pull him up her body, but he wouldn’t budge. “I want
you
.”

“Shh,” he whispered the sound against her, his breath teasing her skin and making her writhe. “I don’t have protection in here. It’s okay, sweetheart. Let go. For me.”

A whimper escaped her at the news. How could she not have considered that fact? Their location?

“I know.” He kissed her thigh, nipping it and making her squirm, keeping the tension coiled. “Me, too. But that just means we’re gonna have to play until I can get it for us.”

Her breath caught in her chest.
Play?
Any more
playing
and she’d be screaming at him to forget it and dive inside, and even drunk with pleasure she knew that wouldn’t do.

Dylan smoothed his fingers over her, drawing a moan and a shiver, neither of which she could control.

“Alexandra, let me do this. I want this first. You have no idea how much I want this.”

She couldn’t say no, didn’t
want
to say no. Alex stroked his shoulder, trailed her fingertips down his corded arm and that was all it took.

Dylan kissed her thigh, the jut of her hip bone, and Alex gave herself over to his touch. Every heady caress, every mind-boggling lick took her to that ultimate precipice, held her there for agonizingly sweet moments and sent her flying into the auroras. She gasped, she moaned, she locked her jaw to keep from crying out her release for the house to hear, and through it all Dylan was there, holding her, taking her higher.

Moments later, after her breathing had calmed and she’d released her pleasure-grip on Dylan, he extracted himself and covered her with the throw before grabbing his shirt. “I’ll get what we need. Don’t move.”

She couldn’t move if she tried.

Alex heard him shut the door on his way out. And despite the thrill he’d given her, she couldn’t wait for him to return. She’d much rather be in a bed, his, hers, it didn’t matter, but circumstances being what they were, the loft was the most discreet room in the house.

She rolled onto her side to get more comfortable. He was such a good man. Dylan was solid and sexy and oh, so hot. Gruff but tender. Charming and mannerly. The descriptives could go on forever. He needed to smile more but considering all he’d been through, and was still dealing with, she’d have a hard time smiling, too.

But as the room grew colder and she had to hug her discarded clothes around her for warmth, Alexandra realized something else.

Dylan was a man who went after protection—and never came back.

D
YLAN KNEW THE MOMENT
Alexandra found him sitting beside Colt on the tiny twin bed. After getting a condom barely in date and splashing his face with ice-cold water in an attempt to get himself under control before he broke the speed record returning upstairs, he’d heard a noise from within Colt’s room.

Colt was awake, his eyes glazed in fear, and the tears he’d shed silently in his dreams still wet on his cheeks. Colt shivered and shook and struggled as he tried to push Dylan away, but Dylan held tight the way the docs had instructed, not hurting but not letting go, a solid force that wasn’t going to disappear. He was more than willing to fight the demons Colt couldn’t, but he was so tired of being shut out, tired of being treated like a stranger.

“What happened?”

At the sound of her voice Colt stirred, listening, but no longer fighting. He was in the present now, not his dreams.

“He had a nightmare.” Dylan forced himself to meet her gaze, wondering how she truly felt about Colt’s emotional issues. He wouldn’t blame Alexan
dra for thinking them too much. “He’ll be fine but I’m going to stay with him until he goes back to sleep. Go on to bed.”

Alexandra stared at them for a long moment before she moved into the room. She sat on the edge of the mattress, her fingers stroking Colt’s hair away from his face. Without looking at Dylan, she twisted sideways and lay down, Colt between them.

“Mind if I stay, too?”

Apparently that was her answer to his silent question. “Not at all.” Alexandra’s breast was pressed against his elbow and distracting in the extreme considering what they’d been doing but Dylan couldn’t imagine her anywhere else. Her presence was a comfort to him as much as it seemed to be to Colt. He could feel Colt softening, relaxing, as Alexandra lazily trailed her fingertips gently over his eyebrows and forehead.

They lay like that for several minutes, until Colt stopped shaking and the tears slowed. Dylan loosened his hold, knowing the worst was over.

Alexandra raised herself on her elbow and the movement must have startled Colt because in a blink he rolled toward her and threw himself against her, wrapping his little arms around her neck in a tight grip and burying his head in her neck.

“Oh, sweetie. Shh. I’m not leaving, just getting comfortable. See? Let me scooch down. There. Better, yeah? It’s okay. You’re okay.”

Alexandra ran her hands over Colt’s back, through his hair, kissed his cheek. And while he watched it all happen, Dylan felt the last of his reservations slipping. He could tell her. He
would
tell her.

“You know, when I was little and I had bad dreams, my mom would come into my room and stay with me until I fell back to sleep, just like your dad,” she whispered to Colt. “My mom would tell me stories about when she was a little girl, or we’d talk about what we were doing that weekend or something.”

Colt’s shoulders lost more of their rigid tension. Even his eyelids were beginning to droop. His son was a heavy sleeper—unless he dreamed. But once he calmed down and fell back to sleep, Colt wouldn’t normally awake again until morning. And in the hours between?

“How about I tell you a story? Would you like that?”

Colt rubbed his eyes and moved his head at the same time. A nod? Like the ones Alexandra had described?

A knot formed in his throat. Dear God in heaven, it was. It had to be.

“When I was your age, I lived in a place called Beauty, Tennessee…” Alexandra talked about her home, her horse Bandit, and Thanksgivings and Christmases past and how her entire family gathered together at her parents’ mountaintop residence for every holiday. She talked about their traditions like all-day cookie baking and gift wrapping slumber parties.

With every word Alexandra spoke, Colt settled deeper into the bed. Dylan did, too. He liked hearing about the things that were important to her, liked seeing her petting Colt and snuggling him close. Liked that she began to alternately sing and laugh her way through a lullaby completely and totally off-key from the first note to the last and didn’t care.

It was an hour before they left Colt’s room. Dylan walked the few steps to Alexandra’s bedroom door and
smiled at the way she couldn’t hold back a yawn. “You’re exhausted.”

“Does he have a lot of nightmares?”

Dylan buried his nose in her hair and inhaled, touched by her concern when she practically wove on her feet with fatigue. “Not as many now.”

“I’m glad. His little face broke my heart.”

Dylan thought of the moment when it appeared Colt nodded at her and lifted his hand to stroke her hair away from her face. He ran his thumb along the seam of her lips, pausing over the dip in her upper lip. “Pack an overnight bag for your tour tomorrow. If you don’t mind spending the night away with me.”

Her eyes widened a tad in surprise then sparkled in blatant anticipation. “I’d like that.”

T
HE MOMENT THE DOOR OF
the Hot Springs Hotel shut behind them, Dylan dropped their luggage and pulled Alexandra into his arms. His mouth found hers and he kissed her, relishing the soft whimper that sounded in her throat when she wrapped her arms around his neck and arched closer.

He framed her face in his palms and ended the kiss, holding her far enough away that he could stare into her gorgeous eyes and search for any signs of misgivings.

“Dylan.” Her tone chided, even as her gaze seemed to dare. “Stop thinking so much,” she ordered. That said, she pulled him down to her, kissed him again and did that little tongue-swipe thing that made him think of doing the same all over her body.

Maybe they needed this, needed to feel this connection first, then they could move on to the more intense stuff that had to be said.

He took control and kissed her again, his hands sliding to her coat and opening the buttons and belt before he shoved it from her shoulders. He pulled the chamois shirt off, the turtleneck sweater beneath, then set to work on her flannel-lined jeans. He couldn’t
remove those with her standing so he gently shoved her onto the edge of the bed and gripped her sensible hiking boots. He pulled the strings and tugged the boot off, then he set to work on the other.

Finally all she wore were black panties, a stretchy black tank top over her matching bra, and a single sock that hadn’t come off when he’d removed her boots.

Dylan reached for the bottom of the tank top but his hands were firmly moved aside.

“No more until we even things up.” Alexandra rose to a kneeling position on the bed and waggled her fingers in a
come here
gesture.

Dylan released the breath he held in a rush and raised his hands in surrender.

A
LEX’S HEART RATE SOARED
at Dylan’s easy acquiescence. He’d had that look again, the one that said he wanted to get serious and
talk.
But she was afraid of what he’d say, afraid of what he’d ask.

Did she want him? Yes, desperately. Did she want more?

That wasn’t so easy to answer. So she shoved those questions aside, tilted her head and regarded Dylan. Where to begin?

She pushed his winter coat off his shoulders and set to work on the flannel shirt and thermal beneath. That she pulled from the waistband of his jeans and over his head with a no-nonsense move.

The man was downright
luscious
.

“Like your boots, cowboy. Where’d you get them?”

“They were a gift.”

Not being gentle, she yanked at his belt, the snap
of his jeans and when she brushed her fingers against his stomach?

“Alexandra.”

“Is there a problem?” His hands settled on her shoulders and slid beneath her hair, and she nuzzled his wrist and palm.

“Don’t tease a man in my state, honey.” He lowered his head and brushed her mouth with his, his tongue entering her with a seductive stroke that left her toes curled.

When he let her up for air, she ignored the shivers his touch evoked and concentrated on stripping him.

“Jeans won’t come off unless you remove my boots.”

Dylan lowered himself to the bed beside her with an expression that turned her insides to mush.

“You’re going to have to straddle them and pull.”

Straddle
him
, he meant. He thought she wouldn’t do it? Using every seductive move she’d ever seen in the movies, she shoved him back on the bed and slowly crawled over him, dropping her head to kiss her way down his chest to his navel and earning another harsh inhalation before she got to her feet.

She flashed him a smile and turned to present him with a view of her backside—replete in her best lingerie, picked up at a little shop in Paris.

“You don’t play fair.”

A laugh bubbled out of her. She couldn’t help it.
Play fair?
The man had made her muffle screams and he wanted her to play
fair?

Grabbing hold of his ankle, she lifted his booted foot and pulled on the expensive footwear. There was a moment of resistance then the boot slid free. One down,
one to go. Tossing the leather aside, she slid him another glance over her shoulder and wriggled her rear.

He groaned.

Before she could bend and grab the second boot, Dylan raised his foot even with the bed. The only way to get at it was to swing her leg high.

“You’re pretty good at that.”

She grabbed the heel, tried not to shiver at the feel of the denim teasing the inside of her thighs, and pulled. This boot took a little more tugging but she got it off and dropped it, then turned to survey her man. Dylan grabbed her hand and pulled her onto the bed on top of him. The moment her knees supported her weight, he sat up, his mouth nibbling at hers.

“We’re still dressed,” she said between kisses. She ran her hands over his flat stomach, envious of his defined muscles, turned on by the dark furring on his chest and the sensuous trail that led lower. He squeezed her behind, gripped her hips and rocked her against him until she had to lean her head back to breathe. How was it possible to feel like this? To want so much? Care so much?

But not too much.

Dylan shoved the tank top over her head. The front clasp of her bra was nothing to his plucking fingers then his mouth was on her, tormenting her, until she whimpered. “Dylan, don’t torture me.”

He dropped back, rolled until he was on top and got to his feet long enough to pull a foil packet from his pants before he shucked them and his underwear in one move. He tossed the packet onto the bed beside her and kissed her belly and legs as he tugged her panties off.

From that point their lovemaking turned positively
frantic. Dylan kissed her repeatedly, teased her unmercifully, until she was arching and gasping and clinging to him, moaning his name. Finally Dylan reached for the condom and she did a little teasing of her own while he tried to put it on.

Protection in place, he pinned her down and took her mouth in a possessive, totally alpha way that made her head whirl. Strong though she was, she loved it when a man took charge and Dylan seemed intuitive to her mood.

Moving into position, he gave her body time to adjust, sank a little deeper and stretched her, holding his weight from her until he was fully embedded but kissing her over and over again.

The muted light from the entryway let her see the fierce concentration on his face. And the way he looked at her?

No, that had to be her imagination.

Dylan began to move. Kissing her until she couldn’t catch her breath. Doing everything right. He was gentle and rough, sweet and sexy, dominant and totally intent on her pleasure, taking her to climax and muffling her moans of completion before he groaned out his.

When it was over Alex closed her eyes, felt herself sliding deeper and deeper into a well of fear.

Dylan was a good man. A man worth loving for all eternity, not just the limited time she had in Alaska.

But how could she be with him—and still be free?

D
YLAN AWOKE WITH A START
, his mind unable to assimilate where he was or why he was weighted down. He remembered in a rush and he lifted his hand to cover his eyes, the other tightening ever so slightly on Alexandra’s bare hip.

Thankfully, he hadn’t startled her and her soft even breaths stirred the hair on his chest. She was draped over him, one arm over his chest, one thigh over both of his.

He tried to find sleep again but seconds later Dylan lifted his lashes and stared at the fire alarm on the ceiling.

Alexandra wasn’t heavy by any means but he felt as if he was back inside the dream that had awakened him, unable to breathe, desperate to escape.

He and Alexandra had been dining out in a nice restaurant—a candlelit dinner, soft music, a ring in his pocket. Then someone recognized him and the accusations began. In his dream Alexandra stared at him in horror, every word shouted by those around them making her pale even more. Finally she ran and he followed her, chased her, but couldn’t catch her because of the people screaming obscenities, calling him a murderer and getting in the way of his pursuit.

The dream was a reminder of what reality could bring if he told her who he used to be before she left for home.

Dylan kissed Alexandra’s forehead, wishing he could rewrite the past, wishing she never had to know and they could go on as they were. That they could be happy.

Alexandra shifted against him, her lashes fluttering. Dylan didn’t move, unsure of whether he wanted her to awaken when his thoughts were so dark.

Her hand rubbed over his chest. “You’re not asleep.” Alexandra nuzzled him and kissed him, right over his heart. “Please don’t tell me I’ve drooled on you—or worse.”

“Worse?” He smoothed her silky hair back from her face when she lifted her head. With the entry light turned off, he couldn’t make out her features but it didn’t
matter. He’d memorized them. Black hair, long and sleek, full mouth, cute nose, her gorgeous eyes.

“Saying embarrassing things in my sleep, snoring.” She made a sleepy sound and snuggled closer. “So why are you awake? Are you worried about being away from Colt?”

“A little but I know he’ll be fine. I’ve left him with Zeke before, and Walt and Ansel fuss over him like mother hens.”

“I used to love spending the night with my grandparents. Still do. Gram is so much fun. We have a blast together.”

From the sounds of it, she’d had a happy childhood. So had he.

That’s what Colt deserved, too, that same happiness.

He thought of Colt and Alexandra together, coloring, playing, walking outside and throwing rocks into the lake to see who could make the biggest splash. She was good with Colt, patient. Motherly. She’d be a wonderful mother.

Alexandra balanced herself on his chest, her eyes glittering in the darkness. Dylan lost himself to the sensation of her skin next to his and skimmed his fingernails over the silky texture of her hip.

He made love to her again, and this time their pace was slower. He savored every breathless whisper, every moan, aware that time was running out.

T
HAT EVENING WHILE
D
YLAN WENT
to check on the plane, Alexandra dug out her computer, called the desk for Internet service and sent an e-mail to her boss with
the review and photos attached. That done, she checked her account and took care of the few things that needed attending to.

Her cell phone was next. She was so used to not having service that when she turned it on and saw those little bars, she couldn’t help but smile. Civilization, gotta love it.

She had numerous missed calls and voice mails waiting for her, along with quite a few texts. Most were from David, all of them harping on the fact she hadn’t checked in with him to say she’s okay, and to tell her he needed her review ASAP because there had been a problem with one supposed to go in the December issue.

She’d warned him she’d be out of touch but David was as bad as her family. Being her boss only made his concern worse but he had the extra excuse. How could she check in with no signal?

Not in the mood to talk to him, she pulled up one of his texts and typed.

Everything’s fine. Enjoying AK. Review sent. Stop worrying.

She sent that and went on to the next message from Luke.

Call home. Mom’s freaking out because you’ve been unavailable so long. PS—Shelby’s acting strange again. Yes, I know you two are still at odds after the fight but do me a favor, get over it and call. She says nothing is wrong but she’ll tell you the truth.

Luke’s message sounded worrisome. What was up with Shelby? Alexandra clicked on the next text.
Bingo
. It was from Shelby.

I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have shut Luke out but we’re okay now. Where are you in AK? Need to talk.

She’d sent a second one:

How’s it going in Man-ville? Find one to keep you warm on those cold Alaskan nights?

Alex rolled her eyes.
Man-ville?
Most people still remembered the old days of the Klondike when the male to female ratio was eight to one but that wasn’t the case anymore. It was true that most hunting and fishing lodges were nearly all male, but the male to female population had evened out over the years in the larger cities. As to finding a man to keep her warm…Focusing on the reminder of how well Dylan warmed her up, Alex scrolled down, unprepared for Shelby’s next line.

Need to talk. Went back to doc for my checkup after DNC. Everything fine. More than fine. I’m pregnant. Again. And totally freaking out!!! The doc said it has happened like this before. Yes it’s fabulous, but what if something goes wrong like last time? Talk me off the ledge. Can’t tell Luke yet. Too soon. Don’t want him to worry. Yes, we’re fine now but new job is keeping him busy. Sorry for being a pain after the accident. Really. Doing better now and wish you were here. I need you, Lex. I’m getting my hopes up.

Smiling and happy and worried all at the same time, Alex said a prayer for a healthy pregnancy and easy delivery, sensing deep down that this time everything would be all right.

Luke and Shelby’s loss had nearly destroyed their marriage and Alex didn’t want to see that strain happen again. Shelby’s response explained the weirdness Luke sensed, though, and Luke really ought to know.

Alex debated whether to bite the roaming charges and call Shelby. She needed to talk but the thing was, her friend could always read her like a book and Shelby would know immediately that something was up. And what would she say?
Man-ville is beautiful and, oh yeah, I just slept with the greatest guy. He’s got a kid, takes care of his dad and I’m leaving them in a matter of days so it’s just sex—but I love him.

Her heart stuttered in her chest.

She
loved
him?

Alex sat there, shocked to her core. She couldn’t
love
Dylan. Not the long-term, golden anniversary kind of love. It was too fast. Real love didn’t happen that way. It was slow and built over time, right?