Satisfied he’s gone, I hunt for a clan cache—a hidden hold in the ground or around a tree stump that contains clothes and food for the bears and other creatures that shift. I find one halfway back to Adelaide, but the fit is off. The cubs must have stocked this one. The pants don’t zip all the way, and end around my ankles. I pull on the socks and forego the shoes entirely. The T-shirt strains at the seams. If I even stretch, I might rip the thing. I tie the plaid flannel around my waist and position it so my damn cock isn’t dangling in the wind.
I hurry back to where Adelaide was left behind and find her on the trail, holding a twig like a weapon. Tears have dried in streaks on her face, and there are big red welts forming from the mosquitoes. Damn Samson. He didn’t even prepare her.
Her fine breasts are going to be one big bug bite if she doesn’t get out of the woods soon.
“Cole, what are you doing here? Did you see the bear? Oh my God, it was so huge. I thought it was going to eat me,” she half-laughs, half-shudders.
“You have any bug spray?” I ask, ignoring the questions.
She nods. “I lacquered it on, but the bugs are still eating me up.”
“You got to cover up.” I pull the flannel from my waist and drape it over her chest. “Give me your bottle,” I demand.
“It’s in the pack.” She jerks a thumb over her shoulder.
I grab her hand and march back to the clearing. I try to ignore the electricity that heats up the minute we make contact, and the fact that my pants are now being held up solely by my fully erect cock. There’s no chance in hell she doesn’t see it.
“What are you doing here?” she presses.
“I think that’s my question,” I shoot back. “I told you not to come out here with Samson.”
“Well, I guess you didn't give me a good enough reason to stay in town,” she replies pertly.
I wish she wasn’t so goddamned irresistible. Why couldn’t her skin be less soft or her hair less pretty? Why does she dress like she’s my wet dream come to fucking life? What did I ever do to deserve this kind of torment?
“There are dangers out here that Samson can’t protect you from.” When we reach her pack, I drop to one knee and pull out her bug repellant. I spray it liberally all over her legs.
“Ouch. That burns.” She flinches when the acid hits the red scratches the branches and underbrush made on her skin.
“Sorry. Fuck.” I lean forward and blow on the tiny wounds.
She freezes, and then her hands drop to my shoulders. I realize then just where I am—on my knees between her legs. If I raise my head, my nose would be right at * level. And even over the distinct smell of mosquito repellent, I can smell her.
She smells like fucking heaven.
“Am I in danger now?” she whispers hoarsely.
I force myself to keep my eyes on her legs—although that’s not much better. Her calves, knees, and thighs are just as delicious-looking as any part of her.
“No,” I manage to choke out.
“Then let’s stay here. Just you and I.” Her hands have found their way into my hair, and the gentle scrape of her nails against my scalp is doing things to me. Like rubbing away any resistance I have toward her. Not that I had much to begin with.
“Tonight?” I close my eyes and imagine sliding my hands up her juicy thighs until they meet at the juncture of her legs. I fantasize about tugging down her shorts until all she’s wearing is a pair of tiny panties that are soaked with her desire.
I’d nudge the sopping fabric aside with my nose, and then lay the flat of my tongue against her wet, hot *. I’d eat her until her gentle touch turned animalistic. I’d suck and lick and bite her until her nails scored my flesh and she was scaring the birds away with her screams.
“Yes, tonight. I went with Pat Samson because I've been here for three years and never once have I done anything outdoorsy. I thought…” she pauses.
“You thought what?” My voice sounds like my throat has been thoroughly scored with the roughest sandpapermade.
She tenses against me, and then sighs. “I thought maybe you'd see me as something more than just a pampered princess.”
“I do see you,” I say quietly. “You're all I see.”
“Then why?” she cries. “Why did you kiss me today and then run off?”
With a big heave of my own breath, I lean back on my haunches and dangle my hands between my legs. The hurt in her voice calls forth a more honest response than I was prepared to give. “Since you’ve come to town I haven’t looked at another woman.”
“Really?”
I nod miserably. Does that make me less of a male to her? Perhaps she believes a real male is like Samson, nailing every willing body that moves in front of him.
“That’s amazing, but why stay away? I…I want you, too.”
Her honey-filled words are like an aphrodisiac. I muffle a groan of need. “Because I’m too big for you. Look at these hands.”
I raise my big rough palms between us.
“Oh, trust me, I have.” Her cheeks turn rosy and I know it’s not due to the sun. This time my growl is too loud to hide, and it causes her to blush harder. She drops to her knees in front of me and places a small hand on my arm. It takes every ounce of control I have not to maul her then and there.