EDGE (25 page)

~PROVERBS 23:2

Mel double-checked that the lock was depressed on the bathroom door and the window was cracked open before easing into the tub of hot water. Her bones sighed with relief. What a night. Sergei had interrupted her and Cache at a moment when she had been about to grab the man and drag him off to a bed. Hers, his, it didn’t matter which. If the great room had been empty, she’d have taken him on the couch where they sat.

Was it good luck or bad that a cut cable had disabled the wind generator? Sergei had started the backup diesel generator before fetching her, insuring that the guests wouldn’t be without their creature comforts, such as electricity and running water. This had happened before, but Mel had thought they’d fixed the problem. Obviously, the problem still existed.

Damn beavers. Had to chew on everything.

She and Sergei had spent most of the night splicing a new section of cable in with the old. It would have been easier if the wind generator wasn’t situated on the bluff, far enough away from the lodge that they didn’t have to hear the blades whiz through the air or see it. The distance made working on the mechanics of the thing a challenge.

It had taken hours to get the lodge back on wind power instead of the expensive, smelly diesel.

After the trip to Homer and the marathon up on the bluff, Mel should be exhausted, but her body was showing signs of renewal as she soaked in the tub.

The lodge was quiet, everyone having turned in for the night. She’d seen the light shining under Cache’s door.

Was he still up? Was he waiting, hoping she’d take him up on his invitation?

Mel soaped and scrubbed with a coarse sponge, trying to smooth away the sensitivity that slithered across her skin. It didn’t work. If anything, made it worse. She got out of the tub and briskly dried herself off, but all that did was bring the blood closer to the surface and turn her skin a very becoming shade of pink.

She cautiously peeped into the fogged edges of the mirror, relieved to see no bible verse, just her likeness. She looked…ready. Blushed and soft and ready for some loving.

Her reflection seemed to say, go for it. She shook her head and again her mirrored imaged seemed to tell her she was an idiot if she didn’t go and jump the man.

Mel turned her back on her reflection and followed her usual nighttime routine. She blew dry her hair, brushed her teeth, rubbed lotion into her skin, and dressed in a pair of pink fuzzy socks and white flannel nightgown that had a cartoon moose on the front.

She exited the bathroom and walked the short distance to her room, trying to ignore the light still spilling from under Cache’s door. She wasn’t going to join him.

She wasn’t.

Mel entered her room. The big empty bed mocked her with its silence.

“Oh, shut up,” she said and threw back the covers, not giving a thought to the hand-sewn bear paw quilt she usually folded down to the end of the bed to limit the wear and tear on the pattern. It had been one of the first quilts she’d accomplished, and she was very proud of it. Even though the quilts she produced now were better, this first one had a special place in her heart. It had taken most of the winter and a lot of frustration and tears had gone into it. The making of this quilt had been an exercise in patience and understanding that had nothing to do with actual sewing. It had been a therapeutic commiseration of the past. She had come to terms with herself sewing those scraps together.

The dusky sun filled her room with enough light through the curtained off windows that she could see everything in her empty room. A simple dresser, a desk with a computer, a set of bookcases stacked with folds of fabric, sitting next to a long sewing table with her sewing machine at the ready. She thought about getting up and working on her latest design, but knew it wouldn’t soothe her tonight.

Her body hummed, and the more she lay there the louder it got. Surrendering, she reached over, yanked open the drawer to her nightstand, and closed her hand over Mr. Happy.

She lay there holding the vibrator in her hand, staring at it. What the hell was she doing? Should she settle for another night of empty satisfaction or give in and walk the short distance across the hall and try the real thing?

What was she so afraid of? Cache? Hardly. He was only a man after all. Alaska had plenty of men to take his place when he left. Garrett had made it clear, before he left, that when she wanted him, he’d be there.

Did she want to go back to that? Yes, Garrett had been a warm, breathing body versus a cold, plastic toy. While Mr. Happy always delivered and Garrett didn’t, at least with him she felt close to someone for a moment.

If sex with Cache didn’t result in the climax she so desperately wanted, she knew she’d at least obtain the same kind of closeness that had her turning to Garrett in the past.

She growled, and threw off the covers, stored Mr. Happy back in his drawer, and stalked to Cache’s door. Once there, she paused.

Did she knock? Just walk in? What if she woke him? Would he be grumpy? Happy? Or one of the other seven dwarfs?

She snorted. If she wanted the man, she should take him. He’d made it clear that he was up for the taking.

So just open the damn door and have your way with him
.

She twisted the knob, found it unlocked, and let herself in.

Cache’s heart stuttered as his door opened and in walked Mel, covered from head to toe in soft pink and white from her flannel nightgown down to the hue of her skin. Pure frustration is what he’d label the picture she made. He refrained from smiling, not wanting to give her any reason to bolt. It looked as if an inner struggle had been fought in order to get her into his room.

All evening, he’d waited. The sounds of her taking a bath had kept him hard and uncomfortable sitting in the big bed, and then he’d heard her walk down the hallway and pause at his door. He’d held his breath and let it out in a disappointed rush when he heard her bedroom door open and shut.

To see her now, when he’d given up hope, well...it was a good thing he was sitting down or the sight of her would have sent him to his knees.

He snapped his journal shut, capped his pen, and then laid them on the night table.

Mel closed the door and he heard the click of the lock fall into place. His heart leaped in his chest. She held his gaze as she sauntered toward the bed. He slid over and threw the covers back in invitation. She paused and his heart skipped a beat.

Don’t turn back now, baby.

Mel flicked off the lamp next to the bed, and the evening sun filtered the room with seductive shadows. Slowly, gathering the folds of her nightgown, she raised it until her knees were free to climb onto the mattress.

He gave in and grabbed her, yanking her into his arms. His lips captured hers and he held her tight to his chest. A groan, hers or his, he wasn’t sure, vibrated between them.

She tore her lips free. “Better make this worth my while, shutter boy.”

He flipped her over onto her back and rose above her. “Never pressure a man to perform.”

“Not up to it?” she taunted, eyebrows raised in challenge.

“Oh, I’m up for it.” He proved it by stroking his hard shaft between her soft thighs, taking great satisfaction in the low growl that escaped her. He’d been up for this since they’d shared that first conversation on the deck the night he’d arrived on The Edge.

Her nails raked down his bare back and he reveled in the sharp sting.

“Do that again,” she demanded, her voice pitched a tad higher than normal.

“Do what? This?” He nipped the side of her neck, and she arched her head back to give him better access.

“No, damn it. That other move.”

He chuckled. He knew what she wanted. That didn’t mean he couldn’t take his time getting around to it. His hands cupped her breasts through the thick flannel. “This?”

“Hmm,” she murmured. “Nice, but no.”

He loved the look of lust on her face. Very becoming. “Want me to stop?”

She went for his boxers, snaked her hand under the waistband, and clasped her fingers around him.

Christ.
He’d be a goner if she kept that up.

Mel stroked down the length of him, and he about came undone. She’d caught onto his game and, like playing cards, she was better at it than him.

“Does it seem like I want you to stop?” she purred.

“Hell, no.” He grabbed her hand and clasped it with the other above her head. “Stay,” he ordered and then softened his words with a kiss. A kiss she took control of and commanded. Then she conquered, consumed, and pretty much destroyed him.

The fight to be naked was on. She twisted as he pulled at her clothes. He yanked, and she laughed as her head and arm were caught. He took advantage and did some of his own consuming. She was completely bare under the nightgown, and he feasted.

He kissed the tattooed phoenix rising at her breast, paying tribute to her enduring spirit, and then took her nipple into his mouth.

She moaned.

Finally, she freed herself from the confines of the fabric, and tossed it to the floor. Her fingers dug into his hair and held him there at her breast.

He didn’t mind one bit. They had all night, and he planned to take full advantage of having this woman all to himself for a change.

Mel was close. So close. If the man would just forget about her breasts and move on.

Oh, wait a minute...that was nice.

Cache twirled his tongue around her nipple and then nipped the end.

Yes, very nice.

She arched her pelvis against his. He groaned and then actually moved away.

No, no, don’t do that.

Mel decided it was her responsibility to see to her own pleasure and by God, she was going to. Even if it took a little trickery.

“Can’t breathe,” she gasped and pushed against Cache’s broad chest, and a nice lean-muscled chest it was. She promised herself she’d get back to it soon.

“Hmm?” he hummed, as though dazed or completely caught up in what he was doing.

“Can’t breathe,” she gasped again and was rewarded when Cache raised his upper body enough for her to push him over onto his back. She followed him over and straddled him before he knew what she was about.

“It’s time for you to stay,” she ordered, grabbing his wandering hands and clasping them above his head. She knew his hands were getting ready to move her under him again. Nope. She was on top, and she liked being in control.

Mel rocked against him, and his eyes rolled back into his head. Yes, oh yes. Now, this was more like it.

Cache still had his boxers on while Mel only sported her fuzzy socks. That didn’t bother her at all. Once he was naked and that—impressive—second brain of his was free to penetrate, the foreplay would be over and, in her experience, the fun would end for her. Best to keep that part of him under wraps for as long as possible.

She ran her hands down his chest and lightly touched his stomach, watching in fascination as his muscles twitched under her fingertips.

His hands didn’t stay where she’d told him to keep them. They came up and cupped her breasts. Playing with the weight, tweaking her nipples, sending goose bumps cascading over her skin. She shivered, and he lifted his hips and rubbed right
there
. She rubbed back and loved it when he groaned again. He was so much more responsive than Garrett.