His Last Defense

A light-headed sensation spun the world around Nolee and she wrapped her arms around his neck, holding on tight. Her fingers combed through the short curls at the base of his scalp. Soft, she thought hazily. Thick.

Her breath stuck in her throat and she sat utterly still when Dylan released her hair to run his hands down her sides. In one swift move, he freed her jeans’ front closure. Then he cupped her bottom, fitting her to his groin. Sweet, hot, delicious friction. She nearly groaned aloud, desire building, air now hissing between her teeth. He edged her low-riding denim down her hips slightly, the warm air teasing her skin, making her ultra-aware of the tiny patch of flesh he’d just bared.

The purring vent was no match for the fogged windows that insulated them, making this intense moment private. Intimate. The hard, thumping rock song that poured from the sound system pounded along with her erratic pulse.

Her fingers grasped ineffectually at his jacket zipper, her hands incapable of making progress when his kisses consumed her. His hands stroked a hot path up her rib cage to palm her breasts through her coat, then spanned her ribs with his fingers. She arched against him and whimpered, a keening sound that didn’t begin to express the desperation now clawing inside. When her fleece provided a soft, thick barrier to his touch, he slid it off her body with hands now clumsy, shaking with the same hunger that gripped her. An electric current within sizzled double-time. It ignited a fire low in her belly.

He delved deeper into her mouth as his kisses turned more deliciously aggressive. The wicked intent she sensed behind the wet mating of mouths thrilled her on a primal level, stripping away the need for anything other than raw, scorching sex that would leave them both gasping for breath.

She tugged down his jacket zipper at last, needing to feel his body against hers, his hot, naked muscles against her hypersensitive skin. With fumbling touches, nerves buzzing, she eased it open and he shrugged out of it, his magnificent chest rising and falling against the thin thermal fabric of his shirt, their ragged breaths mingling. Fast. Urgent.

She wanted every erotic act she knew he had to offer, and she wanted it now. She wiggled her hips against him to be sure he knew how much. His primal growl rolled right through her, strengthening her determination to simply enjoy the searing chemistry between them for as long as it lasted.

Hoots and hollers erupted in the distance as customers exited the pub. An engine fired to life and then headlights whisked across the space before disappearing, tires spinning through icy snow.

Alone again, she melted into his arms, collapsing against him, her hips grinding with more urgency. The warmth between her legs made her damp with want. He swept her hair to one side and his lips traced the side of her neck, then the hollow of her throat. Their breaths came shorter and then shorter still. Beneath his rapidly rising and falling chest, his heart thundered along with hers.

Thick, steamy air settled on her bare midriff as he slid up the hem of her shirt. Never one to bother with a bra unless strictly necessary, Nolee delighted in Dylan’s string of appreciative oaths as he discovered that fact with his hands.

“You’re mine,” he breathed, just as he cupped her breasts fully, taking the weight of her aching flesh in his hands. Her breath seized in her chest at his possessive declaration. Oh how that was true.

Every atom of her being fired to his touch as if he held the key to turning her on, to winding her up this way. With slow deliberation he dragged his thumbs over both taut peaks. She practically convulsed with the sharp contraction of her feminine muscles when he tweaked them between his thumb and forefinger, at the same time nipping her lower lip between his teeth.

His rock-hard thighs beneath her only added to the spiraling heat. The equally solid length of his arousal gave her no quarter in that direction, either. Not that she wanted any. His body provided an erotic cradle for her hips, along with the growing knowledge things were only going to get hotter.

Nolee broke the kiss so she could simply look at the man in front of her. She touched his face, tracing a fingertip over his lips, up one cheekbone and then down. She smoothed the scar above his eyebrow and part of her relaxed. This was Dylan. He wasn’t a stranger but a familiar lover. A man her heart recognized, craved, dreamed of more often than not.

Looking at him now, it was as if she was seeing him for the first time all over again—the stinging rush of attraction, the need to glimpse his smile, the desire to hear his laughter and, even more, to be responsible for it.

Above all, though, was the yearning to touch him. So she did. She traced her fingers over the indents that defined each ab, each contracting, rock-solid plate, and he caught her fingers before they settled on his bulging groin.

Her lashes lifted and she peered up at him, the fog of desire unraveling slightly at the edges. His sculpted features swam into focus. They looked sharp enough to cut someone. A muscle jumped in his clenched jaw.

He ran a shaking hand over his short brown curls. When he spoke, each word emerged heavily. “I hope I’m not stepping on Craig’s toes here.”

She stopped breathing for one suspended minute. “Craig?” Her strangled voice shoved past her heart, which had leaped into the base of her throat and lodged there.

He stared at her gravely with unblinking eyes. “Craig.”

“You—you think I would kiss you like that if I was with another guy?”

His anguished eyes delved into hers. “You know why I might think that.”

His quiet words fired through her. They reminded her of her anger when he’d caught his friend manhandling her and had jumped to conclusions. Dylan always assumed the worst. Given his critical parents’ abandonment, she understood why he would expect life’s letdowns. Back then, she’d been naive, thinking she was the exception from that view. Stupid to think the years might have changed him.

Clearly, he was the same person. And so was she. It was the reminder she needed to steer clear of him. To be glad he’d be transferring from Kodiak soon.

“If you think that about me,” she said through shaking lips, “then you don’t know me at all.”

She threw off the hand he’d placed on her wrist, yanked down her shirt, flung open the truck door and hopped out, her fleece shoved under her arm.

“Nolee!”

She whirled. “What?”

“Tell me you’re not taking out that boat.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Have you heard the weather predictions? They’re expecting record-breaking temperatures. Storms.”

“So?”

“You’d be a fool to go.”

“Yep. That’s me.” She studied his familiar, handsome face then turned and spoke over her shoulder. “Always the fool.”

* * *

THE FOLLOWING EVENING, Nolee stretched her aching muscles. She’d spent the day retrofitting the Pacific Dawn’s crab pots for opilio and now dutifully stood behind a table laden with a variety of modern and traditional Alutiiq dishes, serving their community during the annual winter festival. The air was thick with smoke, fresh seafood and the occasional curse. Her stomach growled and she sighed with relief at the dwindling end of the buffet line.

“Do you want an extra scoop?” she asked as she ladled soup into a stooped man’s outstretched bowl. He shook his head and smiled, his skin exploding into lines that radiated from his eyes and mouth.

“That is enough.”

She nodded and rubbed her low back. She needed rest. A hot soak to relax her screaming muscles. And an aspirin. Her brain hurt worse than her body. Her spirit? Flatlining. The Pacific Dawn needed more repairs than she’d imagined. With only eleven days left until inspection and the opening day of the regular season, she wasn’t sure she and her remaining crew members would have the boat seaworthy in time. To fill the impossible quota she’d promised her skeptical bosses, she couldn’t miss even one day of the regular opilio season.

Making matters worse, she couldn’t stop thinking about Dylan. Last night’s kiss had shaken loose feelings she needed to keep locked down. It’d felt so right, so perfect to be in Dylan’s arms she’d almost forgotten all of the very solid reasons things hadn’t worked nine years ago. She’d made the right choice to let him go then, and she needed to steer clear now and focus on her career and her family.

“Take a break.” Her Aunt Dai squeezed her arm and nodded in Nolee’s mother’s direction. Kathy Arnauyq sat at the end of a long folding table that had been mostly cleared by hustling volunteers. She was small, dark and intensely serious, her gray-streaked hair in a braid she’d pulled forward over her right shoulder. A young couple and their three boisterous children occupied the opposite end. “It’s time you talked.”

Nolee bit back her sigh. Since losing her boat, she hadn’t dared visit her mother, unwilling to subject herself to a solid round of I-told-you-so’s. Tonight, though, she couldn’t put it off any longer.

The chair scraped against the tiled floor when she pulled it out and seated herself opposite her parent. “Hi, Mother.”

Kathy nodded as she toyed with the metal spoon in her empty coffee cup. Her neat, slightly sharpened features revealed none of the discomfort twitching through Nolee.

“Did you get enough to eat? Because I could—” She cut herself off at the shake of her mother’s head. “Okay. What would you like?”

“I’d like you to leave the Bering Sea and come back to Kodiak. Stop this foolishness,” Kathy said in the feather-soft voice that made others lean close and pay attention.

Old frustration flared inside. “Captaining a boat is not foolish.”

“A commercial boat.” Kathy’s hands were cool as she pushed a lock of hair away from Nolee’s eyes in a tender gesture that nearly brought her to tears. “They’re greedy. Taking more of the world than is needed. That’s not our way.”

Nolee sighed. “No. It’s not.” She’d grown up being taught the value of subsistence living, a part of her tribal culture that went back thousands of years. What others might consider poverty, they believed to be a revered, responsible way of living. For Nolee, however, it’d been a relentless childhood of scraping by on whatever family members could toss their way. Their poverty had made them powerless, her mother’s precarious health preventing her from holding down a lasting job. “But I need to pay the bills. And where is your oxygen tank?”

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