Driving Him Wild

A submissive.

‘Here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to send everyone but the most essential crew away. And you’re going to stay and deliver the shoot you promised me.’

He stopped toying with the reins and turned around. When his gaze met mine, his face was carefully neutral, making me doubt my instinct. ‘You don’t have the right equipment to travel over long distances and different terrain. Your PM was very vague with my agent—now I know why. I came here to find out more about what you need from me…from this project before I started. Even with what you deem an essential crew, you’ll have to wait for more sleds to arrive from Utqiagvik. That’ll take the better part of half a day.’

I raised my eyebrows as, for whatever reason, my heart banged even harder against my ribs. ‘So you’re suggesting no crew at all?’

‘At the most, I can make room for one more on the sled. Any more means more weight on the sleds and more weight for huskies to pull.’

Just you and me… ‘You want me to stay here on my own. With you?’

His eyes glinted before they blinked back into careful neutrality. ‘Have you been keeping an eye on the weather reports?’

Someone on my crew had. ‘Of course.’

He looked sceptical. ‘Then you’ll know that in less than three days’ time the sun will set for the next couple of months. Today and tomorrow are your only chances to get the variety of photographs you want.’ He waited a couple of beats, no doubt for his words to sink in. Then he took a breath. ‘What’s it to be, Miss Mortimer?’

Call me Graciela.

It was an automatic invitation to new acquaintances and potential donors. Call me Graciela was so I wouldn’t be reminded that I was a Mortimer. That the blood of an unfeeling, dysfunctional dynasty ran through my veins. It reminded me of the many times I’d attempted to correct that dysfunction, when I thought I knew better, believed I was different. A misguided, cruelly awakening time I would wipe my brain clean of if I could.

The words hovered on my lips but never emerged.

Because I wanted clear, definitive boundaries between myself and this man.

Boundaries I was curious to see whether he would breach. Whether he would prove me wrong.

Or…right.

Dangerous, forbidden boundaries. The kind that had the power to wreck my sleep, turn my daydreams inside out with dark yearning.

‘Larry,’ I called out without taking my eyes off Jensen. His gaze stayed on my face, dropped to my mouth for a charged moment before returning to mine.

I heard Larry hurry over. ‘Gracie?’

‘Tell the crew to pack up.’

‘We’re leaving?’ The disappointment in Larry’s voice was distinct.

I gave a single shake of my head. ‘Everyone else is. I’m staying.’

‘Oh? For how long?’

‘As long as it takes. What will I need, Mr Scott?’

He didn’t correct me this time or invite me to use his given name. ‘I have a satellite phone, but if you wish to keep yours, two is better than one. A couple of changes of clothes, in case you get wet.’

‘Food? Water?’

He shook his head. ‘I have enough to get us through the day.’ A hint of hard smile tilted the corners of his lips. ‘Be warned, it’s more utilitarian than gourmet.’

I let the mild insult bounce off me. If my instinct was correct, he’d learn his lesson soon enough. ‘I can rough it for a day or two without expiring from the horror of it all.’ I looked past him to the covered trailer attached to his sled. ‘Speaking of roughing it, where will I be sleeping?’ Thoughts of my warm hotel suite back in Anchorage filled me with longing for a short moment before I pushed them away.

Did he just swallow? ‘I have a tent if we decide to stop for the night. Or my cabin is a couple of hours’ sled ride away.’

Larry cleared his throat. I glanced at him to find him frowning. ‘Are you…you’re really staying here on your own?’

The veiled ‘Are you mad?’ in his tone drew equal amounts of irritation and amusement. But more than that, it drew intrigue and possibilities directed at the man standing tall and delicious in front of me. Twin emotions I hadn’t allowed myself to experience in a long time. Because inevitably both had led to painful disappointment.

‘There’s a chance to salvage something from this debacle. Or would you rather I scrap it and call it a failure?’ I asked Larry.

‘Of course not. I just meant…’ He paused, casting a dark glance at Jensen.

‘I think your PM is worried about your safety,’ Jensen said with a trace of amusement.

I didn’t smile back. I was a Mortimer after all. And as with most individuals with nine or more zeros attached to their bank balances, I’d been at the receiving end of a few security scares. I couldn’t afford to be blasé about it, even in an icy wilderness like Alaska. ‘Should he be?’ I tossed at him.

Every trace of humour vanished. ‘I won’t let any harm come to you. You have my word.’

For a taut stretch our gazes locked, unspoken words arcing between us. ‘Instruct the crew,’ I told Larry without taking my eyes off Jensen. ‘No need to freeze here if you don’t have to. Tell Elsa to pack me a change of clothes and get going. I’ll check in tonight.’

He knew better than to argue with me. Barely ten minutes later the small camp was all packed up and aboard the helicopters.

The apprehension I should’ve felt at being alone with this…captivating stranger was curiously absent as I watched my crew leave. Behind me, Jensen stashed my bag under the tarp covering the trailer then approached. I didn’t look his way as he stopped next to me.

‘I spotted a mother bear and her cubs feeding about half an hour from here near a broken ice floe. We can start there if you want?’

I shifted my gaze from watching the choppers turn into dark specks in the sky. ‘You’ve had that information since you got here and chose not to share it?’

He shrugged, drawing my attention to one broad shoulder. ‘It wouldn’t have helped if you hadn’t been inclined to see things my way. In the time it would’ve taken to gather your crew to get there, they’d have been gone.’

Neat answer while delivering the punch he no doubt intended to. ‘You don’t think very highly of me, do you?’ There was a distinct sting to that knowledge, one quite different from the dull throb of pain I’d experienced over decades of holding my emotions inside.

‘I don’t know you. I’m only going on what I’ve seen so far.’

‘Are you? Then why do I get the impression you’ve already made up your mind about me? Is it perhaps because you believe you know me despite us having only just met?’

‘Are you accusing me of something, Miss Mortimer?’

I studied the profile he insisted on presenting to me. There was a tightness around his mouth and jaw that spoke to more than the face-value conversation taking place. ‘Yes, I am.’

His delicious lips pursed for a second. Then he exhaled. ‘The dogs are rested; we can probably make it in time if we leave now.’

‘Aren’t you going to ask me what I’m accusing you of?’

His gaze finally turned my way, and the endless depth of icy emotion swimming within nearly made me sway. ‘No. My statement goes both ways. You don’t know me either, so whatever you think of me is most likely flawed.’

‘Ah. So that’s how we’re going to proceed, is it?’ I asked softly. But he caught the steel I hadn’t disguised. ‘First, we skirt each other warily, assessing weaknesses before we land the first punch?’

This time his lips twisted in a cynical twitch. ‘I’m sure you have far better things to do than to waste time delving into what makes me tick.’

His tone suggested he applied a very heavy vice versa to his statement. And despite the icy weather, my blood heated up. I reined in sweet, exhilarating control with a subtle clench of my fingers.

‘You’re right. But I wouldn’t have needed the time anyway. I know exactly who you are, Mr Scott.’ This time the gleam in his eyes was fairly mocking. But before he could tailor words to that look, I added, ‘And I also know exactly what you are.’

The gleam faded as if extinguished, his face settling into an inscrutable mask. And even though his gaze stayed on mine, everything about him bristled with restlessness. An almost visceral need to…deny.

Except he couldn’t. Not without denying a vital part of himself. Not without perhaps…letting himself down? But he strained against exposing his true self to me until his struggle was as real as the snow beneath his feet.

God, what had happened to him?

An equally visceral need to know attacked me, punching right through my defences to that secret vault I’d sealed shut once and for all.

Five seconds ticked by. Ten.

After twenty, his head snapped forward, his jaw jutting out with aggression that spoke of his turmoil. An aggression I wanted to wield beneath my fingers. To test and twist and mould into something sublime.

My breath shuddered out, astonishment at my train of thought nearly overwhelming me.

‘The day needn’t be wasted. Or we can waste time and your money on a hypothesis that leads nowhere.’

I allowed myself a small laugh, saw a slight tensing of a different kind in his frame as he heard it. ‘My hypothesis is definitely leading somewhere. Otherwise why else would you be so wound up? But by all means let’s change the subject.’ I waved a hand at the vast white tundra. ‘Take me to your mama bear, Mr Scott.’

CHAPTER TWO

SHE WAS A SPOILT, overindulged princess.

The kind who watched a few episodes of a reality show about surviving in the wilds of Alaska and suddenly decided they wanted to dabble in nature. The type who got it into their heads that stroking a seal or two and posting a selfie with the Arctic wildlife or atop the odd ice floe automatically granted them environmental activist status.

I didn’t need to look back at where she was perched on the sled behind me to visualise her clutching her collar, grimacing at the intensifying wind. I was surprised she hadn’t whipped out her sleek satellite phone and ordered her chopper to come pick her up.

The bear family might have moved in the time she’d been ordering her staff about.

The time she’d spent analysing me with those stunning hazel eyes, deciding whether to toy with me or not.

Muscles jumped in my stomach. As hard as I tried to ignore the sensation, what I’d seen in her hooded, sultry eyes still sent fresh waves of apprehension through me. Not the kind that had anything to do with the work she’d hired me for. That I could do with one hand tied behind my back and one eye closed.

No, the kind of sensation that look had elicited…that fucking craving.

I shook my head, partly to clear it, partly in denial.

Dammit, she’d seen it. Then she’d spotted my efforts at denial…

I gritted my teeth and unnecessarily flicked the reins attached to the dogs. The huskies were highly trained, would respond to the softest whistle or voice command, which made the reins largely superfluous.

Or, hell, was that particular symbolism for me? Was I so hard up, I was now expressing myself through my bloody dogs?

Dammit.

I didn’t need this. I should’ve left Graciela Mortimer’s little ice circus the moment I confirmed her project manager had lied to my agent in order to secure my services.

More than any other flaw, I hated lies. And the people who told them.

Large. Medium. Tiny white lies. Every single one of them came with wrecking balls that altered lives, changed the dynamics of relationships, no matter how much we fooled ourselves into believing otherwise.

How many had my mother told my sister and me in order to avoid facing the glaring truth?

I’m all right. It doesn’t hurt. He’ll change. And the worst lie of them all: he loves us.

Even before my fifth birthday, I’d known that statement for a lie. And for the decade after that, that fabrication had been exposed time and again until, like poisonous acid, it’d begun to erode my relationship with my mother.

Of course, I knew now it’d been her way of coping, the delusion her own form of security blanket. Hadn’t I risked falling into that same pattern of delusion until I’d wised up as a grown man? Hadn’t I made allowances for Stephanie’s lies just to hang on to what I thought was a solid relationship, all the while knowing that trust, once broken with lies, never—

‘How close are we, Mr Scott?’

Of course her voice would have to melt my insides. Visions of heated honey…no, more like the anticipation of watching melted wax in the moment before it hit my skin. The sharp burn before the breathless, sizzling warmth.

That was what Graciela Mortimer’s voice had evoked the moment she’d spoken the words I’m in charge.

Lort!

I should’ve left after imparting my thoughts on what she was proposing to do. Which would’ve been easy considering I hadn’t wanted to do this gig anyway. Regardless of the fact that my own company had been driving me insane. Regardless of the fact that I hated myself a little for not being able to stay the course of what was left of my month-long self-imposed hermitage.

I should’ve left.

Instead, here I was, secretly yearning to hear that voice again. To do that, though, I’d have to engage her in conversation.

‘Ten more minutes. Give or take,’ I threw over my shoulder. The GPS co-ordinates I’d noted on my watch would see us there in less time, but I’d learned to make allowances on unknown terrain.

Silence greeted me. Against my will, I looked over my shoulder.

Despite the stylish shades covering her eyes, I felt her gaze boring into mine with unapologetic directness that tunnelled lightning straight into my veins. It singed me into life, making me aware of every inch of my skin, and especially the rush of blood to my groin.

This was why I hadn’t walked away.

Yet.

‘Give or take what?’ she asked with a slight arch of a silky eyebrow.

Good question. My sanity? Another sign that my screaming instincts were right? That she wasn’t merely toying with me?

But fuck, where the hell did I get off trusting my instincts when they’d let me down spectacularly so very recently with Stephanie?

‘Mr Scott, while I have a thing for the strong, silent type…on occasion, this isn’t one of them. I will need you to actually engage with me here.’

The dry amusement in her tone should’ve raised my hackles further. And yet it drew a wry smile. And what was it with that Mr Scott when I’d invited her to use my first name?

Perhaps because she didn’t need invitation. She commands it.

My senses jumped, dark need clamouring through me so hard every inch of my body tightened with anticipation.

Futile anticipation. I had no intention of even probing possibilities. Not after the fucking fiasco with Stephanie.

There was a reason I’d retreated to my remote cabin in Alaska. A reason I’d welcomed the last-minute cancellation to my tight work schedule. When it came right down to it, the need to escape my thoughts and immerse myself in my work were the reason I’d grudgingly accepted what I thought would be a solo assignment.

Which was why I should’ve left Graciela Mortimer where I found her.

‘We’re here.’ I tugged on the reins with a sharp whistle and the dogs immediately slowed to a stop.

The mother and her three cubs were still on the large floe about a quarter of a mile away, finishing off the last of a fish meal. One of the dogs barked and the mother bear raised her head warily, eyeing us from across the distance.

I sensed Graciela approach, felt her invasive presence when she stopped next to me. The very fact that my every sense clamoured to look into those hazel eyes once more made me avoid her gaze.

‘Are they… We’re not disturbing them too much, are we?’

The question was soft enough to have fooled me had I not witnessed the circus I’d convinced her to dispatch. ‘Do you care?’

Stephanie would’ve inhaled sharply at such a blunt question, then, depending on whether she was in her false role or not, would’ve delivered icy condemnation or tears on command.

Graciela met my question with another imperious lift of her brow and a steady regard when I flicked a glance her way. ‘You really don’t like me, do you?’

There was another hint of a smile in the question, a suggestion that she didn’t care either way. It should’ve confirmed every impression I’d had of her. Instead, it disconcerted me. Did my opinion of her count so very little?

‘You don’t care whether I do or not so why bother asking?’ I countered.

Her sigh was long and exaggerated, another indication that she found me…vastly amusing. That she could grind me underneath those expensive snow boots she was wearing without a second thought.

Just as Stephanie had believed she could.

Another spoilt little rich girl, this one with a few billion to play with, who believed she could buy anything and anyone in sight.

More than a little vexed that I couldn’t detach as easily as I’d hoped from the events of the past few months, I headed for the sled, pulled back the tarp and lifted out my treasured camera and slotted a fifty-millimetre lens to it to capture the close-ups I wanted to start off with. ‘You want shots for the print magazine and videos for the digital version, correct?’

‘If it’s not too much to ask, yes.’ Again she sounded amused.

And I couldn’t help it. I paused in the process of unscrewing the lens cap and looked her way to find her glasses sitting on top of her head and her stunning eyes fixed on me.

Not a single picture I’d seen of the heiress had done her justice. She had a face that just begged to be photographed. As for her body, despite being under wraps from neck to toe, I’d seen enough pictures of her in the glossy rags Steph used to devour to know just what was beneath the outfit.

Graciela was taller than average for a woman but even though she only reached my shoulder she seemed…taller.

Larger than life.

But while I wanted to believe it was mostly entitlement—because, let’s face it, that shone from her eyes and bristled from every pore—there was more. Which again made sense, since she was the very definition of a wild child and went out of her way to prove it with her various antics.

Skydiving in nothing but a string bikini over Rio.

A three-day sex party with a premier league soccer team in a hotel in Mali.

The rumours that she kept a string of lovers across the globe…

The icy wilderness landscape of Alaska was the last place I’d expected her to turn up, thinking she, like Steph, was the kind to leave all the hard work she’d later take credit for to her minions.

I finished adjusting the exposure to compensate for the darkening sky and took an initial short burst of photos of the polar bear family. Then I swapped the lens for a sixteen-millimetre, for wide-angle shots, and took another burst.

Surprisingly, she remained quiet throughout, didn’t fill the silence with mindless chatter, which I appreciated.

‘Can the cubs swim at their age?’ she asked when I lowered the camera after five minutes.

‘If they’re more than a few months old, yes, for short periods. But with more distances between icy landscapes some bears have been seen swimming with their young on their backs.’

She nodded, her gaze on the ice floe. ‘Is it dangerous for them?’ she asked.

‘Danger comes from all angles in this environment. This is a slow-moving floe and surrounded by frozen land on three sides. The mother would be on the lookout to ensure they don’t drift too far.’

‘That’s great, but it’s moving…towards us.’

I curbed a smile as I swapped cameras and grabbed a tripod to set up more stills. ‘We’ll be gone before it gets to us.’

She nodded again, but her gaze grew speculative, shifting from the bears to the other floes. They varied in size from a few metres to ones the size of football fields, all broken away from the mass that would normally have stayed solid well into the new year.

‘Can I get a short video of the floes, too?’

‘Sure.’

She didn’t interrupt or badger me with questions once I got into the flow of things. Hell, she even took herself off a short distance away, taking out her phone to take pictures of the distant Alaskan Range and the beginning of the spectacular orange on white sunsets that graced this stunning part of the world.

She returned in time to witness the bears’ floe touch another one and the mother supervising her cubs jumping from their floating platform onto a larger one.

With one last warning look over her shoulder, the mother bear escorted her cubs away towards a jagged mountain peak.

‘How long before they go into hibernation?’

‘Another two or three weeks.’

She frowned. ‘They don’t look nearly padded up enough.’

I shrugged. ‘Probably because they have to travel farther distances to feed.’

As if on cue, a loud, sharp crack sounded. Camera poised, I swung around in time to capture the towering wall of ice break away from a glacier to crash into the lake.

The sound seemed to echo for ever, bouncing off the icy landscape in perfect surround sound. Beside me, Graciela gave a soft gasp. ‘God. That’s…’

I lowered the camera and glanced at her. ‘It’s breathtaking and awe-inspiring until you remember that it shouldn’t be happening?’

Her face shuttered, her brows creasing in a frown.

I wasn’t sure whether she didn’t like that being pointed out or whether she didn’t want to admit she was affected by what was unfolding before her eyes. Wasn’t she here after all because money had been thrown at her charity by people who could afford to contribute ten times more?

‘Do you want to be included in the video?’ I asked.

She remained silent for several seconds, then shook her head. ‘I’ll let the environment speak for itself.’

I throttled back my surprise. She’d just passed up the perfect opportunity to get in front of the camera. A camera manned by me. According to my agent, her PM hadn’t shied away from tossing his boss’s name into their phone conversations at every opportunity in an attempt to sway me. While I knew now he’d bent the truth to suit his purposes, I also knew most people wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to be photographed by Jensen Scott.

I came within a whisker of being impressed before I reminded myself this was just the beginning. Women like Graciela Mortimer wouldn’t overplay their hand with over-eagerness. If anything, she’d expect me to talk her into it.

She’d be waiting a long time for that. I ignored her, shooting a three-minute video in sharp focus, the white landscape capturing the stark story.

‘Are you ready to go?’ I asked once the echoes had receded and the equipment was packed away.

She nodded. ‘Where to next?’ she asked briskly.

‘Depends. Do you want to show all the gloom or is your piece aimed towards reminding people of the glory too?’

‘The aim is for more shock than awe but I’d like to use the time efficiently. So whatever’s closest.’

‘How about we kill two birds with one stone, so to speak?’

‘As figures of speech go, I wouldn’t have reached for that one. And for some reason I think you wouldn’t have either. Now I’m totally convinced you’re trying to get a rise out of me, Mr Scott.’

I was, and a small part of me cringed at the pettiness. ‘It’s Jensen.’

Again, one corner of her mouth tilted, drawing my gaze to the overfull lower lip. Its juicy plumpness and far too lickable curve. Almost in slow, torturous motion, a perfect picture slid into my brain of those lips wrapped around my cock, drawing sweet torment with every suck. I didn’t have a single doubt that Graciela would know just how to suck me off. She was far too confident in her femininity not to be an expert in all things coitus.