Love In Alaska (The Love In 50 States Series Book 2) Read online

  His hand kneaded my thigh and I thought for a moment he wasn't going to listen. But he shifted and moved his body on top of me.

  “Wait,” I said, reaching my hand out of the sleeping bag. “Wait.”

  He hovered over me until I found a condom in the small side pocket of my bag.

  “Oh thank God,” he whispered, his voice harsh.

  I tore off the paper. “Yeah?”

  “I don't have anything,” he said. “I didn't think we'd get to...”

  I set it on him, then slowly unrolled it. It was his turn to gasp.

  “I thought you had everything in that bag of yours,” I whispered.

  He chuckled softly and shook his head. “Not one of those.”

  I grabbed onto him and guiding him, spreading my legs wider. He pushed into me and I gasped again, his heated shaft filling me completely. My hands slid around his back and I grabbed onto his ass and pulled him deeper. He moved slowly, his eyes locked on mine. He took his time, sliding all the way out of me before plunging back in. He leaned down and kissed me, his lips brushing mine over and over, one of his hands playing lightly with my nipple. I bucked harder against him and he quickened his pace, pumping into me with newfound urgency.

  I arched beneath him, the slow, pulsating wave building inside of me. I hated that the condom was between us, and, for one fleeting moment, I thought about ripping it off of him and damn the consequences.

  But I wasn't that brave.

  His mouth was on my ear again and I wrapped my arms around him. I used every ounce of strength I had to roll him over onto his back.

  His eyes opened wide. “Jess.”

  “Evan,” I whispered back.

  He'd slipped out of me. I straddled him, wrapped my hand around him, lifted up and guided him back into me. He felt longer, bigger now, and I gasped at the sensation of him filling me completely. His hands were on my hips and his eyes were half-open, his blue eyes almost black with desire. I wanted to see him when he came.

  When I made him come.

  I moved against him, lifting up and down, controlling our movement. Our bodies were slick with sweat and the musky smell of sex scented the tent. His mouth closed over my breast and I gasped again and picked up the tempo. He stiffened inside of me and his fingers tightened on my hips, his nails digging into my flesh. I lifted up just slightly, resting my forehead on his, my hips pumping up and down. He held on and thrust harder.

  “Now,” I whispered, my voice raw with desire. Our eyes were open, an inch apart, like neither of us wanted to miss it.

  A flash of heat rose inside of me, threatening to erupt.

  “Now,” I said again.

  The pressure built inside of me and I bucked on him, moaning as I found my release, writhing against him. He gasped and spasmed inside of me—once, twice, then I lost count, our foreheads touching, our bodies melded together.

  The waves gradually subsided and my body went slack. I collapsed on top of him, my head falling on to his shoulder. He was still inside of me and his hands had moved from my hips to my back. I started to move off of him, but his arms stiffened and he held me in place, one hand shifting so he could stroke my hair.

  In the stillness, I could hear the rain pelting the tent, the sound like a beating dream. I shut my eyes as my breathing slowed and I nuzzled up against his neck. His arms wrapped tighter around me. I wanted to open my eyes to look at him, to talk to him.

  But exhaustion covered me like a blanket and I drifted off.

  ELEVEN

  I woke in the exact same position, still on top of him, still naked, still inside the sleeping bag. I shifted my head to look at him and he smiled back at me.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “Hey,” I said. “Sorry.”

  “For sleeping? Don't be. You kept me warm. Again.”

  “I wasn't out for long, was I?”

  “Hour or so?”

  I snapped my head up. “What?”

  He chuckled. “Maybe fifteen minutes.”

  I slapped at his chest, but laid my head back down against him. “You could've pushed me off.”

  He kissed the top of my head. “I didn't want to. And listen? Do you hear that?”

  I listened. “It's not raining.”

  “It stopped almost as soon as you went out,” he said. “We might be able to make it back today after all.”

  “Oh, wow,” I said, not sure how I felt about that bit of news. “Okay.”

  “And, this is totally awkward,” he said, stroking my hair again. “But we should probably disengage.” He lifted his hips so I would know what he was talking about. “So nothing gets lost...”

  I laughed against his shoulder. “Right.”

  I shifted my hips slightly and he reached his hand down between our bodies. I felt him slide out of me.

  “Still on,” he said, rolling away from me. “Give me a second.”

  I buried my head against the sleeping bag to give him some privacy.

  A moment later he rolled back into me. “Okay. Sorry. No easy way to do that, I guess.”

  I snuggled into him. “I like that you said something.”

  “You liked that I said I should get the condom out of you and off me?” he said. “Wow. I must be boring as hell when we talk about other things.”

  I frowned at him. “I mean, I like that you were considerate enough to think about it and then direct enough to tell me.”

  “That's me,” he said. “Considerate and direct.”

  “That sounds like a slogan for something.”

  “Well, if it isn't, it should be.” He smiled. “Maybe that can be my tag line for my company.”

  I frowned. “I don't think I'm in favor of that.”

  “No?” He gave me an innocent look.

  “Not if you want what just happened to happen again...”

  He laughed and gathered me in his arms. “That sounds completely irrational.”

  “I'm just telling you.”

  He kissed me. “You're also telling me there's a chance that that might happen again.”

  “Well, not now,” I said. “The rain stopped. We need to get moving, I guess.”

  He was quiet for a minute. “You'll need to get up,” he finally said.

  “You first,” I said.

  Neither of us moved.

  “Fine,” he said. “I'll say it.” He paused. “I don't want to go and I want to stay right here and I want to have sex with you again.”

  I smiled at him and slid my hand down between his legs. “Yeah. Let's do that instead.”

  TWELVE

  We stayed in the tent all day and didn't emerge until the next morning. Meals consisted of apples and the remaining cheese and crackers but I didn't care; I was too focused on spending time with Evan. A twinge of disappointment hit me as we started packing up our gear. I knew it was time to go – Evan had another job to get to that was going to take him north of Anchorage and there was another storm predicted for that night – but I wasn't ready for our time together to end.

  Not just because of the sex. We'd done just about everything we could sexually do to one another in twenty-four hours time. Paige would have been very pleased – if I'd given her the details. But I was going to miss spending time with him. He was funny and kind and I'd enjoyed almost every single minute I'd spent with him.

  Evan's sleeping bag had dried out overnight, as had much of the ground. I helped him break down the tent and repack it. We made sure our trash was bagged up and we scoured the ground to make sure we weren't leaving anything behind.

  Then we started the trek out.

  The hike back through the valley and over the mountain was just as pretty as it had been coming in. Some of the higher mountains peaks were coated with a fresh layer of snow and everything looked brighter, more vibrant, after the rains. The trees and grass were an emerald green, the exposed dirt a rich, earthy brown, the sky a shade of blue I was sure could never be captured in a painting or a photograph.

  Th
e only thing missing from my hike was Evan's voice.

  We'd started out chatting as we left, the conversation coming as easily as it had since we'd met. I didn't like the word 'chemistry' to describe relationships, but it seemed like we had it. The further we walked, though, the quieter he got.

  So I started getting in my own head.

  Maybe he was regretting bringing me. Maybe he was regretting having sex with me. Maybe I hadn't been as good as he'd hoped. Maybe I hadn't been a good idea. The longer we walked without talking, the more anxious I got.

  When we stopped to eat a quick snack, I couldn't keep my mouth shut.

  “What's wrong with you?” I asked, sitting down in the dirt and rotating an apple in my hands.

  He sat down across from me. “Nothing.”

  “You haven't spoken in almost an hour.”

  “You were timing me?”

  “No.”

  He stared at the apple in his hands, then bit into it. I waited. He didn't say anything, though, focusing on finishing the apple instead. I frowned at mine, but ate it anyway. The flesh was firm and sweet and juice dribbled down my chin. I wiped it away.

  He polished off his apple and chucked the core into the thicket of trees. Then he stared at the ground for a moment.

  “This is the most time I've spent with one person since I got divorced,” he finally said. “Even with my sister, I saw her in small doses. I haven't been with anyone continuously for this long since I left her and California. I've kept to myself. On purpose.”

  “Okay,” I said, not really understanding.

  “I did it on purpose because even though I was happy to be done with Amanda, I got burned,” he said. He ran a hand over his beard. “I didn't want to get burned again and for me, that meant doing my own thing. Keep moving, keep everyone at arm's length, that sort of thing.” He paused. “And I've gotten really, really good at that.”

  “I'm sorry,” I said, the half-eaten apple feeling heavy in my hand. “I didn't mean to encroach on that. At all. I just—”

  “No,” he said, shaking his head. “Not what I meant. I've had a really good time with you. And I wasn't lying. I liked you on the boat, but I thought it would just be cool if we hiked out here together and I showed you around. I honestly didn't have any other plans.”

  “I believe you.”

  “But then everything sort of took off,” he said. “And I don't mean I'm sorry about that. I'm not. I mean...that was amazing. You're amazing.” He paused and rubbed at his beard some more. “But I know you're leaving and I'm not quite sure what to do with that. On the one hand, I'd like you to stay a little longer. It feels like I've known you forever, you know?”

  I swallowed and nodded.

  “But I don't want to do that for a couple of reasons,” he continued. “One, it isn't fair to ask that of you. And, two, I'm pretty sure at some point, I'm gonna throw that wall back up that keeps people away.” He looked at me. “Probably even you.”

  He smiled, but it wasn't a happy one. “So even if you did stay, I couldn't guarantee you anything right now.” He laughed and shook his head. “Every time I start to think I'm through with this shit, I realize I'm still a mess.”

  I spun the apple slowly in my hand, thinking about what he'd said. I appreciated his honesty, both about me and about himself. I knew what he meant about the walls and about not guaranteeing things. It was like scar tissue that builds up and has to be broken down. I knew because I had my own. But I also felt the things he was feeling. The connection to him. The fact that I wasn't really sure I was ready to say goodbye.

  I swallowed again. But I'd made a promise to myself. As tempting as it was to hear him say he wanted me to stay, I didn't want to break that promise.

  “I can't stay, Evan,” I said softly. “This trip...I'm doing it for a whole bunch of reasons. If I stopped now, I wouldn't get out of it what I need to get out of it. I know it sounds selfish, but I have to do this trip. I'm not going to be good for anyone until I'm done with it. And I know that sounds cryptic and weird and all that, but trust me, I know.” I paused shifting my gaze to him. “But I'm not gonna lie. All night long, I laid there in the tent, thinking maybe I should stay. If you wanted me to. Because I didn't intend on finding you here.”

  “I'm not asking you to stay,” he said. “Not really. I wouldn't do that to you.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “But you should know, I've thought about it. As crazy as that sounds, I've thought about it in the last twenty-four hours. That thing you said to me? About not letting opportunities pass you by? I'm worried that this might be one of those that's getting by me.”

  He nodded slowly. “Yeah. I know.” He forced a smile. “So maybe we play it by ear. You keep me informed about your travels and I'll tell you where I'm flying to. Maybe I'll show up somewhere, surprise you.”

  I smiled. “I don't think I'd mind that at all.”

  “And when you get to the end of the road, we'll see where we're both at,” he said. “We'll just see.”

  I had a moment of guilt, not telling him what my plan was in visiting the fifty states. A small part of me felt like I owed him an explanation. I wanted him to know that no matter what I did going forward, it had nothing to do with what had happened between us. In fact, I was now worried that nothing would live up to my time with him. What if I finished my journey and I came looking for him and he was gone? Or with someone else?

  But I didn't tell him any of that.

  I took a deep breath, trying to draw air into my constricting lungs. “Yeah,” I managed to say. “Let's see.”

  THIRTEEN

  We made it back into the fishing village just before dinner time. Evan grabbed some sandwiches from a small deli and we wolfed them down. I took the opportunity to use the bathroom inside and I'd never been happier to see a porcelain bowl with a flushing handle. We walked to the dock and Evan gassed up the seaplane. Before I knew it, we were airborne, heading back to Anchorage. I was grateful for the headset and the whirring of the plane's engine; it offered a good excuse to avoid talking.

  It had been awkward after our conversation. We tried to talk, to find that friendly banter again, but it was gone, as if the rains had somehow washed it away. I was angry at myself for not being able to find it. I wanted to hold his hand as we walked the remainder of the trail, but he seemed distant and I felt like it was my fault, so I kept my hands to myself. As we loaded up the airplane, all I could think was that I was never going to see him again and that had me second-guessing myself.

  Again.

  We landed in Anchorage and he drove me back to the hotel in silence. He pulled the truck into the lot and cut the engine. His hands stayed on the steering wheel, his gaze locked on the windshield.

  “Come up with me,” I said. He started to protest but I said, “I don't want to say goodbye in the stupid parking lot.”

  He hesitated, then nodded. “Alright.”

  We took the elevator up to my room and I threw my bag on the bed on the far side of the room.

  I looked at him. “This sucks.”

  He looked around. “Room seems fine to me.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  He sat down on the edge of the bed. “Yeah. It sucks.”

  “I feel like we lost a day today,” I said. “Because things got weird.”

  “I got weird,” he said. “Wasn't your fault.”

  “You just said what I was thinking,” I said. “I just didn't have the guts to bring it up. The whole directness thing.” I offered a half-smile.

  He looked up at me. “So stay then. Stay for like a month. Travel with me. The other states will still be there. Let me see if I can keep my walls at bay.” His eyes bore into me. “Stay.”

  I looked away. This wasn't supposed to be happening. I'd toughened myself up after Alabama, been more skeptical, determined to stick to the plan. I sure has as hell hadn't planned on spending three days with a guy I didn't want to leave.

  “I'd still have to leave at some
point,” I pointed out. “Even in a month, I'd leave.”

  “Maybe you wouldn't.”

  “I would,” I said firmly. “And it has nothing to do with you. I swear. This trip is all about me.” I shook my head. “I can't explain it all.”

  “Try.”

  I sighed and sat down next to him. I stared at the floor for a long time, finding the patterns in the hotel room's carpet.

  “Brian,” I finally said. “My ex-husband. He was the only guy I ever dated. I was literally with him my entire adult life. And somewhere in there, I lost me. Or maybe I didn't get to be me, I don't know. But the person I thought I was gonna be never happened. And ever since the divorce, I kept thinking she was going to show up. But she hasn't.” I paused. “I need to find her. And this is my way of doing it. Probably doesn't make much sense, but I made a promise to myself that I wasn't going to get sidetracked, no matter what came along. No matter who came along. Because I don't want to get stuck again.” I smiled. “I came here with no expectations and you've now blown them out of the water. But you know how you said you couldn't promise that those walls wouldn't come back? I can't promise I'll know how to be happy until I'm done with this trip.”

  He leaned back on his hands. “I get it.”

  “Do you?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. I'm still closed off, even if I don't think I am. It's the same thing for me. I'm still fighting through the shit.”

  “I don't think you are. Closed off, I mean.”

  “Really?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Where'd I grow up? Where did Amanda and I live? Where did I go to law school?”

  I didn't say anything because I didn't know the answers.

  “I'm a master at talking but not saying anything,” he said. “It's like a habit. I'm still guarded, still thinking I'll get burned again. I come off as this total optimist, but I'm not. I'm faking it.” He paused. “Even with you. I couldn't open up to you. That tells me where I'm at.” He looked at me. “So I get it. I really do. I don't like it, but I get it.”