Out of This World Read online

  “Yeah, you’re ready,” he said on a rough breath. Planting his hands on either side of my head, he braced his weight above me, arms trembling.

  “Hurry, Kel.”

  He let out a short, unsteady laugh. “Yeah, that might not be a problem.” Leaning in, he sank his teeth into the crook of my neck just as he thrust inside me, large and thick, with the exact right amount of rough.

  I cried out and wriggled my hips for more, but he held me still with a grip of steel.

  “Hold on.” His teeth grated together. “Just…hold on a minute.”

  I spared a thought to wonder what I’d done with my easygoing Kellan McInty, because the guy towering over me, pressing me down with his weight, holding me where he wanted me, an edgy light in his eyes, was as far away from that guy as possible.

  He pulsed inside of me, and I pulled my legs back and arched up.

  “Don’t move. God, don’t even breathe.”

  I tried—I really did—but it was like what I’d been taught in every science class I’d ever had. The more effort I put into not moving, the more difficult it became. I couldn’t regulate my breathing; I sounded ragged and out of control to my own ears. I couldn’t stay still either; I just couldn’t get over the feel of him, thick and hard and silky smooth inside of me, and I lifted my hips for more.

  “Fuck,” he said, sounding strained. “Oh fuck.” And he began to move, slowly at first, but that didn’t last, because I sank my nails into him, making him thrust deeply, bumping me up against the couch. But it was worth the rug burns, because his movements were sending shock waves of pleasure through me.

  I bit his throat, and he groaned, sinking his fingers into my hair, tugging my head back, until I had no choice but to stare up at him, utterly imprisoned by his piercing, startlingly clear eyes.

  “Rach…”

  I already knew. He was gone, completely gone, and I couldn’t tear my eyes off him. It was as if I couldn’t just see into him, but I could also hear his thoughts, which were filled with me, with this, with what else he wanted to do to me…and how this was different for him than it’d ever been before.

  Or was that my thought?

  Oh God. It was mine. And it was different than it’d ever been with anyone else: deeper, stronger, more. Somehow so much, much more.

  And as I stared up at him, aroused beyond belief, too stunned to speak, he somehow managed to smile down at me, and I thought, Yeah, it’s going to be okay. He’s going to make it okay.

  And he did.

  Oh, how he did.

  I woke up slowly, stiff and desperate for caffeine, but that was nothing new. When I was growing up, my mother used to throw a pillow at me from the doorway of my bedroom and then bolt, leaving me to wake up slowly and alone, like I always seemed to need to do.

  But I wasn’t at my mother’s house. I was as far from home as I’d ever been. And remembering, I sat straight up in the narrow antique bed of Gert’s bedroom. The clock was blinking, so I knew the power had come back on. I looked up, startled by my own reflection in the antique mirror above the dresser.

  Not a pretty sight, I can tell you that. Why was it that, no matter what the situation—and great sex the night before was one of the better situations I could think of—I still looked like death warmed over when I woke up? “Kel?”

  No answer.

  I slid out of the bed and realized I was naked. There was a towel on the floor, the one that had been on my head. I wrapped it around me and lifted a hand to my hair. Since I’d slept on it wet, I now resembled Little Richard. Perfect.

  “Kel?”

  The no-answer thing was sending little tendrils of panic down my spine because Kellan was a morning person, and always had been.

  I ran to the bedroom doorway. The blanket was still on the floor, but there was no Kel.

  He wasn’t in the tiny postage stamp of a kitchen either. Feeling a bit like Alice falling down the rabbit hole, I hauled open the front door to yell for him, but that turned out to be unnecessary.

  He stood on the bottom step, shoulder propping up the post, sipping at a mug, watching the sun rise over the line of trees. I caught him in profile, disgustingly alert and clear-eyed. His hair curled over his ears, past the nape of his neck. He wore a ragged old T-shirt and sweatpants that hung temptingly low on his hips, the drawstring barely knotted. Beneath those sweats, his body was hard and perfect, and after last night, I knew just how hard parts of him could be, and also exactly how perfect.

  The rest of him was pretty damn fantastic as well.

  So ridiculously relieved to see him, I went running out the door, ignoring that it slammed behind me as I leaped down the steps. I executed a little twirl to face him, relieved beyond belief. “We’re even now, because you just shaved ten years off my life,” I announced, then shivered in the chilly morning air. “Guess that sexual healing thing is dead on, huh?”

  He didn’t answer.

  Oh boy. Awkward-morning-after alert. “I sure could use some caffeine.”

  He looked at my hair. “You need more than caffeine.”

  “Okay, so I need a brush, too.”

  “You really think that’s going to help?”

  “Funny.” It wasn’t fair that I looked like something that needed to be dragged to the curb, and he looked mouth-watering. He smelled good, too, damn it. But I shoved back the lust attack and got a grip. I adjusted my towel, and wished for clean clothes. Clean, warm clothes.

  The morning was chilly enough to remind me that I wore nothing but a towel. In the light of day, the woods seemed just as close and impenetrable as they had last night, but a little less scary, thankfully.

  Kellan didn’t move, just stood there in the bright morning sun, his gaze on the towel that I was adjusting.

  Or, more specifically, on me in the towel.

  I was more than a little chilled in the sharp air, but at the heat that flared in his gaze, I once again began to warm up nicely. Odd that this strange, almost chemical-like attraction I had going for him hadn’t resolved itself overnight. Odd and new. I had no idea whether it was the Alaskan air or the fact that, hello, he was damn fine to look at. Or maybe more than just my eyes had gone whacko out here in this high-altitude air. But all I could think was, Was he up for round two?

  “You okay?” I asked.

  “That was going to be my question to you.” Setting his mug on the railing, he put his hands on my arms and rubbed them slowly up and down.

  Mmm, now see, there was a nice way to assuage the morning-after awkwardness.

  “Where are your clothes?” he asked.

  “I forgot to put them on.”

  His mouth quirked. “My lucky day.”

  There he was, the funny, easygoing Kellan I knew. The men in my life tended to fall into two categories: those who sneaked out by dawn’s light and those who wanted one more round before sneaking out.

  Unfortunately for Kellan, there was nowhere to sneak to. For either of us.

  Which left us in this awkward territory. We’d slept together. Actually, there’d been no real sleeping involved, and just thinking about it made me need to fan my face again. I shivered.

  Mistaking the movement for a chill, he turned us toward the guest house and leaned past me to open the door.

  It was locked.

  “Kel,” I said, fascinated by the muscles rippling across his shoulders and back. “Um, about last night.”

  “Huh,” he said to the locked door, and tried again.

  “Kel?”

  He grunted, fiddling with the handle.

  “I, um, hope it’s not going to be awkward,” I said. “Because that would be awful, you know?”

  Ignoring me entirely, he tried the window, which was also locked.

  “Stay here,” he said. “I’ll go to the inn and get a key.”

  “Right.” I nodded agreeably. “I’ll just stand here by myself, bear bait, in only a towel.”

  He looked me over. “I’ll hurry.”

  “Y