Northern Renegade

Another plus in the equation was it really was rather akin to poetry in motion to watch his movements in the water. Fluid and powerful, he seemed at one with the lake. And last but not least, given how impressive the rear view had been, she readily admitted she wanted to see how the front view stacked up.

There was something about that argument and then subsequently watching him disrobe that had only heightened the sexual attraction she’d felt from the instant she’d seen him. And in a way, she had enjoyed that blowup. She’d welcomed the anger and outrage. He’d been a distraction and an outlet. For the entire time she’d been arguing with him, she hadn’t thought of Bradley, not in any portion of her brain, except when the butt-head had mentioned her being jilted or whatever nonsense he’d said. But then she really still hadn’t thought of Bradley—it had been more about her.

And it had been good to feel something more—even if it was anger and outrage… and this sexual tingling—than the numbness that had permeated her since she’d walked away from Bradley and his infidelity.

Lost in her own musings, she realized his pace had slowed. A few yards from the shore, he stopped swimming and stood. Her breath caught in her throat and her heart rate accelerated as he began to walk to the water’s edge. Wet, dark hair was scattered over his chest, a taut belly and then—oh… my… goodness. She swallowed hard, a white-hot heat arcing from her brain straight to her sex. Sweet mercy. It was chilly, the water was cold… and he was still impressive. Certainly more impressive than what she’d seen in her other views of male nudity. What he hadn’t been gifted with in the way of manners he’d been given in physical endowments because… well, wow. He was a jerk, but a well-hung jerk.

Maybe that was part of his problem—too much testosterone. She’d always favored gentle, academic men who tended to be a little on the soft side. There was nothing gentle, academic or soft about the naked man retrieving his clothes from the ground.

He straightened and she wasn’t surprised at all that he made absolutely no attempt to cover his nakedness. She made absolutely no attempt to avert her eyes.

He strode audaciously, surely, toward his cabin. She watched boldly, the play of muscles in his thighs, the weight of his penis between his legs, the slide of water over his golden skin.

Neither of them spoke a word. He stared straight ahead. She stared straight at him, silently challenging him to say something to acknowledge her presence when he’d vowed to ignore her.

Actually, he didn’t have to speak to acknowledge her. Awareness arced between them; sexual tension fairly sizzled in the air.

Insanely, if he detoured and his path led him naked to her, despite his earlier behavior she wouldn’t turn away. She fairly hummed with a newfound sexual energy… that suddenly needed an outlet.

But he didn’t detour and come to stand before her. He went inside his cabin and closed the door behind him.

She sank to the top step, feeling both weak-kneed and energized at the same time. She felt alive and turned on.

He wanted a war? She’d give him a war.

Tansy smiled to herself and reached into her pocket for her cell phone.

She knew just the next move.

4

LIAM TURNED OUT THE LIGHT and stretched out on the bed, his hands folded beneath his head. Why the hell did everything have to be so damn complicated?

All he’d wanted was a military career, and that was gone. It’d been easy not to think about Natalie and her leaving him when he’d had his job to fill his mind. His job had always come first. Now his failed marriage was horning into his thoughts.

There was the woman next door. And he’d gotten an email from Lars. His twin had leave coming up and was heading to Good Riddance.

He pushed up off of the bed and crossed to the window. It wasn’t exactly hot but he’d spent so much time bunking down in tents and out in the field that he slept better with a little fresh air circulating around him. He raised the blind and opened the window a couple of inches. Cool night air seeped into the room and a slice of star-scattered sky was visible with the blinds raised.

He settled back on the bed, his hands once again folded beneath his head. Peripheral movement caught his eye. Next door, the lights had gone out in the main part of the cabin. Seconds later the lamp switched on in the bedroom. With the light on and the blinds down, she was like a shadow puppet as she moved about the room.

And then she really caught and held his attention when she, in outline, tugged the T-shirt over her head. The woman had a classic hourglass figure. She was built the way women were supposed to be built, with curves and a little extra padding here and there.

He rolled to his side and watched while she slid her jeans over her hips. Turning one-hundred eighty degrees, she reached behind her and unhooked her bra. She stood there for a moment, outlined in cock-hardening relief, the fullness of her breast, the slight sag that said they were real and the thrusts of her nipples all clearly detailed in the play of shadow.

She slipped her panties off and there was the curve of her belly and ass, the faint unevenness of pubic hair. He lay transfixed, his breathing growing as heavy as his cock, when she lightly ran her hands over her breasts, palming the points. Then she slid one hand down her belly and dipped her fingers between her thighs and he could almost feel the moisture gathered there, smell the scent of her arousal in the air.

She sank to the bed and extinguished the light but he knew what she was doing and as surely as he knew triangulation, he knew that she’d been turned on by him. She wasn’t thinking about whatever Joe Blow she’d been engaged to. When she’d touched herself, Liam had been the man in mind.

And it was hot to know she was next door thinking of him while she fingered herself. She was hot. It had been a while since he’d been with a woman and he wanted her. He closed his eyes as he wrapped his hand around his cock. He didn’t think he’d ever been this horny. He let his mind drift….

Her eyes glittering the way they had earlier in the day, she lowered her head to his waiting penis. She dragged her wet tongue up one side and down the other, then she took him into the wet warmth of her mouth and sucked on him. Her mouth felt so good wrapped around him. He was damn near at the point of exploding. He dragged her off of his cock and flipped her to her back, lapping at her tight, taut nipples, suckling her while he filled his hands with her soft, full breasts. He couldn’t wait… couldn’t hold back… He nudged the head of his dick against her, coating himself with her slick juices and then buried himself deep inside her tight channel… again… and again… and again until he unloaded deep inside her while she spasmed around him, milking him with her orgasm.

Spent, he lay there, his breathing heavy and ragged.

And in his fevered brain, in the quiet of the night, he could’ve sworn he heard the faint echoes of her own cries as she found her release.

THE NEXT MORNING TANSY stood in her T-shirt and panties, scrambling eggs at the stove. She’d had the best night’s rest since she’d been here. Masturbation didn’t even come close to a man’s touch, the slide of skin against skin, the fullness of a man’s penis inside her, but her orgasm as she’d imagined hard, rough sex—which was unlike any sex she’d had before—with Sergeant Alpha-Male Sharpshooter next door had been great. She’d slept like a baby and woken up ravenous.

The screen door slammed and she glanced out the window. Liam wore running shoes, shorts and a sweatshirt. The man boasted some nice legs, that was for sure. She’d sort of missed that yesterday, she’d been so busy checking out other parts of his anatomy. Nicely muscled. He was just altogether a fine specimen of a man.

He took off at a jog on the trail to the left of the cabins that skirted the lake. Swimming. Running. It all explained that nice hard body. With a start she realized she was scorching her eggs. She yanked the pan off the burner. His arrogant self would probably love the fact that she’d nearly burned her breakfast because of him.

Regardless, she ate the eggs, at least the ones that hadn’t stuck to the bottom of the pan, and headed into the bedroom to get dressed. She eyed her meager wardrobe, hesitating in a way she never did over what to wear. Defiantly, she pulled on her least favorite shirt she’d packed and a pair of jeans. She might be in some crazy heightened sexual state over the man next door but she’d be damned if she’d alter her routine because of him.

Ten minutes later, face washed, teeth and hair brushed, minimal makeup on, she settled on the sofa with her laptop. She opened her document and got herself oriented in the work.