But honestly, right now, I can’t stop thinking about Cliff. Maybe it’s just the frisky reasons that I took this trip in the first place, but my first sight of him at reception was enough to make me feel a little twisty in my stomach. He’s handsome, tall, with a strong jaw, heavy dark stubble, and slightly messy brown hair tucked under the hood of his jacket. He suits the mountains, exactly who I would picture if I had to describe a man who lived in the wilds like this.
The very same man that I just made that wildly cheesy joke to about being a feral animal myself. Yeah, that’s what men like, isn’t it? When you talk about yourself like you’re a grizzly bear?
Anyway. It’s been a long day and I need to change into some fresh, comfy clothes. I head through to the bathroom and put on the water, glancing out of the large window that looks out onto the windswept mountain beyond me. The view really is beautiful. I feel like the only person in the world right now – or I would, if I didn’t know that Cliff was just a few hundred feet away.
As I begin to peel off my clothes, I can’t help but think about how good it might be to feel his big hands doing it instead. No doubt they’re callused, marked with the work that he has to spend his time out here doing – he didn’t look comfortable behind that reception desk, and it’s clear that he’s far more used to being out and about, living his life free of the constraints that the real world places on him.
I can almost imagine his hand brushing the strap of my bra down from my shoulder, letting it slip from my arm, the way his fingers might trace down my skin. How would his breath feel against my neck? Mmm, I can almost imagine it, the heat of it against the cold of the air that has been washing over me since I arrived.
And soon, I find myself wondering if I am going to need that vibrator at all. Because, right now, the thought alone of that man is enough to get me feeling all hot and bothered.
Chapter Three
Cliff
As I hike towards the top of the hill, my breath coming hard and fast, I find myself grinning. That doesn’t happen too often, at least not without good reason.
But the girl back at that cabin? Yeah, Harper seems like a pretty damn good reason to me. I’m not sure what it is about her that has me feeling this type of way, but I’m not complaining. She’s only here for a few days, and I am going to enjoy every moment of getting to see her fine ass wandering around here in her high-heeled boots.
While I am out here, I figure that I might as well take a hike up to the top of the hill, see if there are any more of those cougar tracks . I want to know where that thing is – or maybe I am just not ready to go back to camp yet. Because all I want to do back at camp is check in that Harper is okay, has everything she needs.
I’m smart enough to know the last thing a capable woman like her needs is a man bugging her when she wants nothing but peace and quiet.
There are no more tracks up here, thank fuck, but that doesn’t mean that my head is clear quite yet. I head back to the campground, and glance down towards the cabin once more, the one that I just dropped Harper off at, and, for a split second, I’m sure I can see the shape of her through one of the windows – her arms over her head, as though she is pulling off her shirt.
I look away at once. What the fuck am I doing? I need to get out of here. I need to get out of here before I do something that I’m not going to be able to take back.
Back in my own cabin, I do my best to get my mind off Harper. I try to read a chapter of a new book, but give up after thirty minutes of staring at the same page. Harper isn’t just playing at the back of my mind – she’s at the forefront.
What is it about her? There’s something about her sweet, sing-song voice that makes it hard to think of anything else – well, that, and her gorgeous body, even hidden under the few layers that she was wearing when we met.
Maybe a shower will help this goddamn ache in my cock. But as I strip down, I can’t help but think of her – can't help but think of this woman, the way the shape of her looked moving against the light of her cabin. Was she really stripping naked? The thought of it is enough to make me stir, and I slide into the shower, hoping that the cold water will be enough to cool me off.
But, if anything, it only makes my predicament worse. My cock is hard already and I take it into my hand, squeezing gently as I begin to stroke myself. I close my eyes, let my head lean back against the tiled wall behind me, and imagine that it is her hand on me instead. Fuck, yes – her small hand wrapped around my cock, her sweet voice in my ear, the feel of her breath against my skin. I can almost feel her breasts pressed against me, slick with the water and the soap, and it takes everything that I have not to growl with desire.
How would her body feel against mine? Soft, supple – it has been a long time since I’ve had a woman in this place with me and it takes everything that I have not to turn off the shower and march down to her place and tell her that she’s going to be lodging here with me instead. I want to get my hands on her, see if her curves feel as good in person as they do in my head. I stroke myself faster, clenching my jaw, almost able to feel her fingers moving against my bare chest as the water trickles down over my skin.
The way she looked at me, I could tell that she was thinking much the same thing that I am. That she wants me. That she desires me. I don’t know if she intends to do anything about it, but I am more than happy to indulge whatever little fantasies she wants to live out while she’s here.
My breath is coming faster now, unable to hide my want, and it doesn’t take long till I find my release, letting out a groan of pleasure as I finish. Thinking of her. Wishing that it was her hand around my cock instead of mine.
I clean myself up and step out of the shower – shit, I need a drink. If I am going to be able to get through everything that is going to happen over the course of this weekend, I might need several.
I text Grant as I head down to the Rusty Nail, the bar that we always go to when we’ve got some serious talking to do. Grant lives out in Cherry Falls with his bride Goldie, but he’s been my best friend since damn near forever.
He’s the guy that I go to when I’ve got shit to figure out, and I know that he’ll be ready to tease the hell out of me for even letting a passing crush on this girl take hold. I don’t want to let it get under my skin. I need to exorcise it before I do something stupid.
The Rusty Nail is already half-full by the time I get there, and Grant is running late. I take a seat at the bar, and the bartender comes over to me.
"Can I get you something?" he asks. He’s not as sweet as the girl who usually works here.
"Whiskey," I reply, meeting his tone. He eyes me for a moment before he backs off and goes to get me my drink. Who the hell is he? I’ve heard some people talking about the new owner of the bar – Sawyer something, I think – but this guy is going to have to switch up his attitude if he wants to make sure that he keeps people coming back.
But I don’t have so long to linger on that before Grant appears next to me, slaps a hand on my shoulder, and takes the stool next to mine.
"Well, hi there, stranger," he greets me, lifting his hand to catch the bartender’s eye and ordering himself a beer.