Wolf Bait (Wolf Cove #1) (23 page)

Shit.
“My other one’s at the cleaners.”

“Don’t bother with the uniform today. Wear something casual.”

Casual. Okay. I fix myself as best I can, thankful for the sweater and vest I wore this morning, and then head for my cabin.

Chapter Twenty-Three

“Can you turn your head to the left, just a touch. Yes. Perfect,” Hachiro croons, aiming his giant lens. “Fuck, these are going to be hot.”

I say nothing about the pint-sized Japanese photographer’s lack of professionalism, instead focusing on his subject, a sharp-looking Henry in the Tom Ford suit and gold tie that I laid out for him, leaning against a stack of armor stones outside the main lodge. I have to agree with him, though, and it’s not just because of the man he’s capturing. The entire vista is dreamlike. Most Americans will never venture this far north to see the foreign part of their own country.

“It must be something, working so closely with a man like that. He’s like steel. You can see the power he wields in his steady jaw,” Hachiro murmurs, glancing over at me, his narrow eyes drifting over my black leggings and hiking boots. They look decent enough with the vest and sweater that Henry bought me and, all in all, are the most stylish thing I own besides jeans. And, being next to Henry, I’m wishing I had an entire new wardrobe and someone to dress me.

I don’t take the overview personally. I noticed right away that he assesses everything and everybody within his line of sight. I guess it’s the photographer in him.

“Yes. He wields a lot of power.” I fight to roll my eyes.

Henry stands tall, calm and collected, seemingly unbothered by the guests who linger, watching as the handsome billionaire gets photographed.

Nothing like the version I saw only thirty minutes ago, his face contorted with ecstasy, his hand grasping himself so aggressively, his cries escaping from a deep and vulnerable place.

I hide my smile behind a sip of water. My intimate memories of him are mine and mine alone.

“Okay, now give me your back, and slide your hands into your pockets casually. Look into the distance, but give me your right profile,” Hachiro directs, nodding emphatically when Henry does as asked. I can already see this picture as being one I want to stare at for hours.

“When will the magazine be published?” I ask.

“Next month,” he confirms, then in a lower voice, “Hey, so do you think he’d agree to some nudes?”

I press my lips together to keep from bursting out with laughter. “I’ll have to get back to you on that one.”

~ ~ ~ ~

“You were fine on the ferry trip over, weren’t you?” Henry peers at me with worried eyes as he steers the boat. Behind him, Hachiro’s face watches with a mix of annoyance and disgust. I am taking up valuable time with his steely muse, after all.

“Yes. But that boat was bigger and it wasn’t so rocky.” As if in answer, a gust of wind sweeps past, swaying Henry’s boat. And my stomach.

“We’re going back.” Henry begins turning the wheel.

“No! Don’t. You do what you need to do, and I’m just going to lie down in the cabin and wait for the Antivert to kick in. I’ll be fine.”

That doesn’t seem to appease Henry, but at least he doesn’t argue with me, allowing me to duck past him and through the small door to the cabin below. It’s cramped and yet quaint, reminding me of my aunt May’s small travel trailer, with a narrow couch on one side, a dinette table on the other, and a compact kitchen area behind me. Ahead, in the bow of the boat, I see a bed.

I head for that now, diving onto the wool blanket, inhaling the scent of Henry’s cologne. When did he lie here last?

Was he alone?

The thought of him with another woman twists my gut in an unpleasant way. A way that reminds me of catching Jed with that girl. I don’t think I can survive that again.

I push all of those thoughts aside and close my eyes, focusing on my breathing, hoping that the medication will work and that I don’t have to use the plastic bag I stuffed into my purse before boarding.

The sea sickness has almost subsided fifteen minutes later when my personal phone beeps with a text. I seldom get texts. Really, only one person texts me.

How is Alaska? I hear you’re working for some rich guy?

I haven’t talked to Jed since March, and
this
is the first message he sends me? I’m annoyed, and angry, and yet I can’t stop myself from responding.

Alaska is incredible. Yup. SUPER rich.

The old me would have responded with a “how are things?” question. But I let the phone fall to the mattress as I wait for his response, the deeply hidden vindictive part of me thinking of a hundred other highly inappropriate, hopefully hurtful things that I could respond with.

Yes, his name is Henry and he made me orgasm with his mouth.

You should see the size of his dick.

Cum is warmer than I expected.

My phone beeps with another incoming text. I’m surprised I’m even getting them out here.

What do you do for him?

I can’t help it. I burst out laughing.

“Abbi?” I hear Henry holler from outside the cabin. The boat’s engine has quieted, the motion slowed. I heard some commotion out there a moment ago. Maybe we’ve anchored.

“I’m fine,” I call back, smiling up at the ceiling. I’m more than fine. A week in Alaska and I’m doing exactly what I wanted to do: forgetting the past and encountering things I’ve never experienced before.

Like sex with a gorgeous, powerful man.

The cabin door pops open and Henry’s massive body squeezes through. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yes, except please tell me that Hachiro isn’t driving the boat.”

He chuckles, sliding into bed next to me. This is the first time we’ve lain together like this and the small, cramped space makes it all the more cozy in here with him. “Hell, no. I wanted to give you a chance to get better so I docked us. He’s up taking some pictures of my grandparents’ old place and finding a shoot location. I told him I’d be up soon.” He sighs. “The guy’s a little bit weird.”

I smile. “Yes, he is.”

“What were you laughing about?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He waits for me with a raised brow, and I know he’s not going to let it go. “Jed texted me. I mentioned my new job to an old friend in an e-mail a few days ago and I guess it got back to him. You know, small town.”

“What’d he say?” His tone is less than amused, and I expected as much. He has never hidden how he feels about Jed.

I pull up the text and show it to him. When he scrolls through and reads the last line, he starts to chuckle. “What are you going to tell him?”

I shrug.

“May I?” His fingers start tapping out an answer before I can respond.

“What are you doing?”

He hands the phone back to me and I watch in horror as the green message lights up, having been received. “Oh my God! I would never say this!” I cry, reading over the entire thing.

I wash his dirty clothes, scrub his toilets, and tie his ties. I’m his personal Cinderella. TBH, the guy’s a fucking prick. But at least he’s something to look at and, I swear, I keep catching him staring at my breasts.

“Maybe you’ve changed.”

“Not
that
much.” I laugh, picturing the confused look on Jed’s face as he reads that. Will it worry him, to have some rich, hot “prick” eying me like this?

I don’t know if I even care anymore. Henry said that I’m doing this to get over him and for a while, it was easy to accept that. But I actually
like
Henry. I like being around him, and talking to him. I like taking care of him, even if he’s paying me to do it.

He pushes a strand of hair off my face. “How are you feeling? You’re still pale.”

“But not green, right?”

“No. Not green.”

“That’s good, because my hair doesn’t suit green.” I smile. “Give me another few minutes and I’ll be fine. And thanks for docking. That was nice of you.” I don’t know why I’m surprised that he’d be that considerate, but I am.

His hand slips beneath my shoulder to begin prodding me. “Roll over.” I do as asked and am pleasantly surprised when his strong fingers run down the length of my back, testing grooves and muscles with a touch of pressure, before circling back and doing it again. He’s giving me a back rub. It’s a very non-boss, non-fuck-buddy, boyfriend-y thing to do. But I push that thought out of my head and moan with appreciation.

“I wouldn’t be making noises like that, if I were you,” he warns, his voice turning gravelly.

“I can’t help it. This feels
so
nice.” I sigh and turn my head to face him, appreciating the way the crew-neck sweater that I picked settles around his thick, sinewy neck. “Black looks good on you.”

“Is that what color I’m wearing?” he asks mockingly, but then smiles.

“Hachiro seemed to like the casual woodsman look.”

“Yeah, he asked me if he could get a picture of me cutting firewood after this.”

I snort, and then giggle. “He asked me if you’d consider posing nude.”

“What?” Henry shakes his head, but he’s smiling. “What’d you say?”

“That you’d definitely be into that.” I keep a straight face for all of three seconds before I start to laugh and the gig is up.

“What a ballsy little guy.”

“You should do it.
I’d
buy that magazine.”

His hand makes its way down my back, only this time it keeps going, caressing the soft mounds of my ass, first one cheek, then the other. “You don’t work out, do you?”

“No, I’ve never felt that I needed to. Why?” An inkling of trepidation stirs. Is this his way of telling me that I
should
be sweating on a treadmill?

“Because my farm girl has one hell of a nice ass.” His fingers grip tightly—almost to the point of pain, but not quite. Enough to stir desire in me, to feel the telltale start of what will be soaked panties. Again.

But his words strike a chord within me. My farm girl. I’m his.

“I thought you were a boob guy,” I murmur, as his finger runs down my center, along my crack, and farther down.

He probes between my legs. “You’re warm here. And wet.”

“I don’t think I ever dried out.”

“Are you sore?”

“Yes,” I admit shyly. “But it’s a good sore.”

Easing up off his elbow, Henry disappears from view, but I can sense him there, behind me, his knees sinking into the bed on either side of my thighs. His fingers curl around the elastic of my leggings and he begins pulling them down.

“Henry! What about Hachiro!” I hiss, straining to turn my body and look out the cabin door, half-expecting to find a giant black lens aimed at my backside.

“Don’t worry, I locked it. And we’ll hear him if he jumps on. But he won’t, trust me. He wanted nothing to do with a seasick woman. He’s in heaven up there.” He adds in a low murmur, “And I’m in heaven down here.”

“This is...” I bite my lip nervously as the cool air skates over my bare backside, now exposed to him.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle. And you won’t take long.” He speaks so confidently as he slides my leggings all the way down past my knees. Then again, he’s probably right. I’m already panting for this man in anticipation of what he’s going to do. When he seizes me by the pelvis and hoists me to my knees, I let out a shaky laugh.

“Relax.”

I try to, closing my eyes and focusing on the feel of his warm, large hands as they seize either side of my ass, massaging each meaty cheek with skilled hands. And not on the fact that he has an unobstructed view of my entire behind, and stretching my body like that lets him see the part of me that only one other person has seen—Katie.

It’s almost exactly the same view that I had of Rachel that night, and so I know firsthand exactly how explicit that view is. My breathing grows ragged as his thumbs reach closer to my core, stretching out my folds to expose me. His mouth lands on the soft pink flesh moments later and I gasp as he begins probing me with his tongue, plunging it in and out, taking long swipes of my clit.

He’s right. I won’t take long at all.

“In answer to your question about being a boob man...”

His warm breath skates across that most private spot and I clench instinctively, but I can’t hide it from him. He’s hooked his arms around my thighs, holding my hips tightly and my legs spread, keeping me from squirming away.

I gasp as his wet tongue slides over my puckered skin.

“Relax,” he says again, his voice soft. “I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t enjoy it. And this ass of yours...” His finger traces around the rim in a circle. “I can’t wait to fuck it.”

My mouth drops open. I don’t know how I feel about that idea. Or this, right now. I’m still getting used to having this man’s face between my legs, let alone back there. But there's just no saying no to him, not that I’d want to. He doesn’t seem to hesitate, taking what he wants.

And he wants me. Every square inch of me, it would seem.

His hands smooth over my cheeks, and then he presses his erection against my hip. The tiny cabin fills with the sound of his heavy, heady pants. “I wish I had brought a condom,” he whispers.

He wants sex. Again. My body responds instantly.