Mountain Man SEAL Read online

  “Because we’re getting to know each other here.”

  “Getting to know each other is what you do on a date. A date is when you invite the other person to go out and they agree.”

  “I saw agreement in your eyes the instant we connected.” Blaze says, with a finality I better not challenge. Will he never understand that he’s jacked me? Let’s put him down as delusional.

  We enter the dumpy cabin and he keeps his arm around me to lead me into the bedroom. One bed - barely large enough for Blaze - low slung and covered with a grubby quilt that reminds me of dorm boys back in college. Or more like, boys roughing it at summer camp. That’s what these two remind me of exactly.

  “What, aren’t you going to set me to do dishes, sweep the coal grate?” I snip.

  “You aren’t Cinderella.” He says. “If you don’t want to do chores, don’t do them. That’s not why you’re here.”

  I don’t dare to ask why I am here. My body has a damn good idea though.

  His gaze scoops up my lowered eyes and holds them trapped. I suddenly see a whole lot of pain and loneliness in his stare and wonder whether he sees mine too. Despite how I’m trying to keep it buried deeper than treasure.

  Who am I kidding that my life was so much better than his is?

  Big deal I’ve got a townhouse with indoor plumbing. Does that make me any more content that an outdoor tub lit by moonlight?

  As his intense gaze burrows deeper into me, my body starts tingling all over. Sparkles like the stars in the night sky light me up. There’s no way I can find to smother them.

  My longing for Blaze’s hands to explore all over me is almost unbearable. But I must not give in. Remember girl, you’re not even supposed to be intimate with anyone for another eleven months, according to your counselor. I’m too damaged to handle it, so I’m told.

  But Blaze’s eyes travel down to my lips, my neck, making heat rise there. I wonder whether that’s how he got his name. From the heat the burns in his gaze. It travels further down and lingers on my chest, naked under his teeshirt which comes down to my knees. Not the most flattering garment I’d have picked for seduction night but what choice did I have?

  The garment may be loose on my limbs but I still feel my nipples peak and graze against the fabric, which only makes them even harder.

  We’re standing on opposite sides of the narrow bed - it must be a full size because it certainly isn’t a queen, let alone king. Maybe it’s some kind of camp bed. The khaki color and the slung canvas mattress make me think of that. Between us the air starts to prickle with anticipation above the mattress.

  I can’t breathe.

  I want to sweep the hair off my neck, which is making me sweat. I want to pull his tee up over my head and have him slide his adoring gaze lower over my naked body. My slit is pulsating with need.

  I can’t stop myself.

  My eyes stop tracking his and move swiftly down to his khakis, as I expected the bulge there is stupendous. It holds the power to make my breath come in erratic little spurts. Then take it away completely.

  My chest goes up and down quickly and I yearn to press my fingers to my clit to alleviate the pain that’s building. Or grip his hand and move it there to take care of it.

  But I don’t budge.

  Breathless while panting, I stand rooted to the spot at the side of the bed waiting for him to reach across for me.

  “Get on the bed.” He husks through a tight throat.

  His eyes trail my thighs as I do as he says. What choice do I have other than to obey his order?

  At least that’s what I tell myself.

  I climb on and kneel on the mattress facing up to him at the side. Waiting breathless for whatever happens next. It takes all my reserves of energy not to reach out the six inches between us and tug down the zipper and free that bulging steel.

  I’m certain it’s enormous and thick, pumping with desire for me. I need to see it. I want to run my fingers across its satiny solid wide girth and clamp my palm around its heat.

  But I remain motionless.

  Blaze makes a wistful move with his lips. Is he deciding whether to push me onto my back, spread me open and suck my lips into his mouth?

  Please.

  Please let him take me so powerfully I can’t possibly resist. I can tell the counsellor I had no choice but to submit.

  Not to mention I want him on top of me, pulling my thighs wider as he sweeps his tongue along my folds.

  The wild turn of my imagination makes me shiver so that goosebumps rise along my forearms. Blaze stretches out his huge hands toward me and I get ready to melt into him. My arms are already starting to elevate to assist the tee shirt in coming off faster.

  “Lie down and sleep now.” He says, pressing me to lay back on the mattress.

  What? Sleep?

  My eyes dart to his zipper and see that the bulge has in no way diminished. If anything it’s even more proactive in forcing at the restraint. Lowering it would see the length springing free with force. The smirk on Blaze’s face tells me he hasn’t missed my fascination with his iron length, but still he doesn’t pull me to him.

  No, what he does is pull the grubby cover up to my chin and turn out the light.

  It’s enough to make a girl throw a wobbly tantrum.

  Does this dude want a woman or not? Why pluck me out of the town and haul me up here bagged, if all he wants is to put me to bed like a little girl with a doll.

  I force my eyes to acclimate to the darkness. It’s pitch black, darker than Mars, out here in the wilds. There are no light leaks at all.

  Where is he?

  Is he planning on getting into bed with me? As you would normally do with your new bride?

  “Goodnight Whit.” He gruffs. “Sleep tight.”

  He cannot be serious. My body’s pulsations become overwhelming in their burning insistence. I need to let go. I need to feel a man all over me inside and out. I want to be stretched open and scream and sigh and come.

  In the end I can’t hold it in.

  “Aren’t you coming to bed?” I ask, surprising myself with the shy tone in my voice.

  “I’ll let you have my bed.” He says.

  “Where will you sleep?”

  I haven’t forgotten that cocky dude, his partner in crime, is somewhere close by. If Blaze doesn’t want me, can I be sure I won’t wake up to that other one trying to hook up with me. You can just tell nothing would hold him back. Ugh - it doesn’t bear thinking about.

  “I’ll be right here beside you.” Blaze says. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

  It really seems like he knows what I’m thinking, what my concerns are. And I have to admit he does everything he can to take care of them - from waterside hot baths to night time body-guarding.

  He does everything for me except what I really want right now.

  But I’m not about to beg. Never.

  “You don’t want to share the bed?” I whisper.

  Right - definitely not going to beg. So why did that come out like a whimper?

  “Not while you hate me.” He grunts.

  “You’re going to sleep down there on the filthy rug for the rest of your days?”

  “Yep. If you plan to hate me for the rest of my days.”

  Right. That’s what he wants - me begging for him.

  No, not going to happen.

  “Fine.” I say. “Sleep tight.” I’m certain I can hold out longer than he can, I tell myself.

  A soft snore floats up from the floorboards.

  “You are not asleep already.” I inform him.

  No response.

  Then another, deeper snore, soft though, not the kind that keeps you up all night. Unless you’re focused on how sultry the sound of him is.

  I throw myself over onto my side and shut my eyes with a squeeze. Blaze is breathing deeply now and the masculine sound coming from him only makes my longing more agonized. Who falls asleep in seconds like they turned out a light? And
how did he simply switch off his desire like that?

  My core is pounding and twitching and I desperately want to slide my fingers between my thighs. But if he isn’t really asleep or if he wakes up suddenly, I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of becoming aware how far he’s thrown me off balance.

  I can hold out longer than him.

  My body refuses to calm back down.

  I toss around on the uncomfortable bed, getting more frustrated as the night goes on. My nipples are like a couple of unspent bullets, driving me half crazed with the pent up longing. Or maybe it’s down to the cold air in the room. Did he leave the windows open?

  Oh god, can bears come in through an open window? Or cocky buddies?

  I leap up out of bed but find the windows are all closed. It’s just that there’s no double glazing and even though it’s the end of summer, the air gets chilly at night at this altitude.

  Blaze appears to be sleeping peacefully, his biceps folded under his head are a force of nature. I sink to my knees beside him and watch his chest rise and fall. His features are strong and I’m sure he’s a fine looking man under all that facial hair. More than fine - gorgeous.

  My hand goes out, without my permission, and I lightly palm his chest. Its hillocks are solid and warm. He jerks slightly and I jump back. His face contorts and it seems like he’s having a dream. And not the kind I’d expect him to have. This one seems painful. I consider waking him up.

  Instead, I lie down beside him and tug one of his arms out from under him. He shifts jerkily, the dream still has a hold of him. I pull his heavy arm across to rest on top of me, languishing in how the weight of his muscle makes me feel safe. His heat is incredible. I feel it soothe me as it seeps through my pores.

  He breathes hard and rolls onto his back. Both arms now stretched out to the side with me resting atop one of them. I shift into the crook of the left and immediately he folds it around me.

  I lift my head to look at his face but he seems to be fast asleep still. If he isn’t then he should be on Broadway with those acting skills.

  So I lie back down on his chest, pressing the length of me into his torso, his thigh. I hook one leg over top of his to bring him closer, setting off a riot of need between my thighs. The stretching apart and the cool air do nothing but accentuate my desire.

  I know it’s all wrong and I’m probably a little cray, but Blaze is the poster boy for I-know-I-shouldn’t-but-just-can’t-help-myself.

  But not tonight it seems.

  8

  Blaze

  It’s still dark when I wake up. The kind of black that makes you understand what it must be like to be blind. The kind of dark there was night after night in the desert. I was dreaming again. Another thing that bothers me night after night.

  I have an agonizing steel rod and the unexpected surprise of a girl in my arms.

  A smile spreads across my lips when I see how she’s entwined her limbs around my body like she can’t get close enough. The kind of close you want when the hookup is done but you can’t bear to pull apart. When the need to stay connected across every pore, skin to skin seems more important that oxygen.

  But wait - I remember we didn’t get together and that Whitney said she hated me. And I was dreaming. Unfortunately not the kind of illicit dream I’d have enjoyed, where Whitney was center stage.

  But I’m still smiling because she was keen enough to get close to me. Despite all her protestations, she got down on the less than comfortable floor to curl into my side. I just hope my dreaming wasn’t too disruptive, not to mention the wavering tent I’m pitching in the cover.

  “Don’t get any ideas.” She murmurs, not moving an inch. “I’m only here for the shared bodily warmth.”

  “Of course you are.” I say, letting my wide smile broaden into a smirk.

  She can deny me all she wants but her leg is thrown over mine and her ‘bodily warmth’ has made a damp spot on my pants.

  “Feel free to climb on top if using me as a mattress would make you more comfortably warm.” I encourage her.

  She mutters something that is no doubt one of her takedowns and I grin wider.

  She can gripe and make all the hillbilly insults she wants but her body speaks the truth. And sooner or later she’s going to admit that we’re meant to be together.

  I shift my body and roll over slightly so that I’m flat on my back. I’m careful not to lose that thigh slung across me. One hand palms the back of my head. But my other arm holds Whitney firmly in its crook, locked against my side. She wriggles a little and seems content to stay there.

  She even arches her back every now and then. It’s a subtle, barely perceptible movement, sort of like a mini writhing that I take to mean she’s trying to wring out the lust she feels in her body right now. Again I can’t stop smiling, knowing that she’s softening her resistance. I even bet that hatred isn’t real now.

  Her soft flesh molding into my hard ridges almost breaks me out in a sweat from the heat it builds up in me. My need to plunge into the deepest interior of her is overwhelming.

  But I won’t have a hate hookup with her.

  She’s already too important to me for that. Only when she genuinely wants me as her man, will I make the full connection. And she will beg for me to take her, only then will I give her what we both urgently want.

  I consider picking us both up onto the bed. But what if she takes that opportunity to put an ocean of distance between us again? Better to stay where we are.

  She’s so proud, too stubborn to admit her yearning for my heat inside her that I don’t want to chance it. So we lie on the floor, wriggling and twitching against each other. The burning overwhelm of hunger remains ravenous in both our bodies.

  I bite down on my lower lip when I’d much prefer to be sucking and biting on hers.

  “I guess it gets really cold up here in the winter.” She murmurs softly. All casual as though we’re chatting about the weather - which I guess we are, as a distraction.

  Neither of us can sleep with this tension racking our bodies. We may as well talk and get to know each other a little better.

  “Yep.”

  I’m not much used to chit chat. Or any talk at all. Tank is not the greatest conversationalist. We’re both built for action more than chatter.

  “And I’ll be expected to wear nothing but your old tee shirt through the cold months?”

  “I’ll get you some clothes.” I tell her. “I’ll go down the mountain to town again tomorrow. That’ll be twice in a month, more than I’ve done all year.”

  “Take me with you.” She pleads.

  Damn, my steel started to prick up at the start of her sentence, thinking she was finally relenting. You’re out of luck buddy. And now I get what she’s up to. She thinks she’ll score a chance of getting away from me if I take her down the mountain and back to town.

  “Nope.” I really must practice my conversational skills.

  “Why not?” She pouts.

  “Because you’ll just scream blue murder soon as we get within ten feet of some sheriff.”

  “I won’t, I promise. I just wanna get out of here.”

  “Exactly. You haven't even lasted a day in my company. And you aren’t exactly cozy with me.”

  “This seems like a pretty cozy position we’re in right now.”

  She stretches out the leg that’s thrown over top of me and hooks her foot around my thigh to leverage herself up on top of me in one smooth move.

  “Please Blaze, I’m begging this time.” She says and it’s mighty hard to resist her while she’s straddling my thighs.

  Her eyes flutter up to mine and the reality of where we are hits us like a boulder rolling down the mountain. Color rushes to her cheeks as she joins me in the awareness of her position straddling me, no underwear, my eager steel pulsating hard against her inner thigh.

  It’s unbearable, the blood floods through my veins so fast it’s physically painful.

  “Did you run this
hot and cold with your ex?” I ask, like a damn idiot. Why did I have to bring him up when I can’t bear to think of her with any other dude?

  “You have no idea what you’re talking about.” She snaps. “That wasn’t a relationship in the real sense of the word.”

  “You’d probably say the same about you and me.”

  “But Jarke used me. He pushed me to run drugs for him. To carry suitcases of stuff around so I’d be the one to get in trouble if caught, not him.”

  “He sounds like a real tool. And yet it’s me you claim to hate.”

  “I’m sorry about that.” She says softly.

  “This Jarke jerk is lucky he’s back on the East coast. Any closer and I’d be obliged to knock him into next week for what he did to you.”

  “You would?”

  “Of course. No one treats my woman like that and remains on his feet.”

  She seems surprised and humbled that I want to protect her. As though no one else has ever considered it up until now.

  I have to ask; “Didn’t you have a man to step up for you - not even a brother, your daddy?”

  “I’m an only child so no brother. And my father wasn’t exactly involved in my life after my mom left.”

  “Sounds like he needs seeing to as well.” I shake my head in disgust. I can’t stand a man who doesn’t step up to his responsibility and take care of a woman as she deserves.

  “Dad wasn’t mean or anything like that. After Mom died, he threw himself into his work and I guess he found solace there, or companionship, distraction maybe. I don’t know. I mean at least he paid for my rehab.” She tenses, realizing that she just admitted to a secret.

  “You were in Mountain View?” I inquire, my interest peaking.

  I’m not shocked about drug use. Plenty of the guys used stuff to take away the pain. But I’m beyond surprised that she was in the rich-girl rehab close to our pretty mountain town. Whitney is a layer cake of intriguing emotions and past lives it would appear.

  “Yeah. Got out just about a month ago.” She replies. Her chin juts out because she’s not about to be diminished by her past.

  “Wow. And I was certain I could put you in the good girl column.”