Page 10 of Mountain Man

He’d just flung the second piece when his head turned my way.

His massive frame froze for a split second, then his blue eyes moved over my body, taking in what I was wearing.

“I, ah…wasn’t sure how to get the drying rack down to get my clothes,” I said by way of explanation.

He didn’t answer for a couple of beats, then said. “You should go inside, out of the cold.”

I couldn’t look away from him. If any man existed that was more masculine, more…God, manly, I would insist on seeing proof to believe it. Hank Smith was like nothing, no one, I’d ever seen before. Just looking at him made my belly feel funny and sent inappropriate thoughts shooting through my head.

He also aroused me to the point of insanity.

The man made me all hot and bothered. Which was crazy, especially when he could barely make himself touch me. He’d laid there last night, hands behind his head, while I wrapped myself around him like a python suffocating her next victim, trying to get warm. The man struggled to even make eye contact with me. He had been nothing but a perfect gentleman. He was no threat to me, not in any way. My freak-out when I first woke to find myself in his cabin had long gone.

Yes, despite the way he looked and where he lived, he was more of a gentleman than any man I’d met. The last guy I’d dated had been a wolf in sheep’s clothing. He hid his true nature, only letting it show when he’d got what he wanted from me.

Hank hid nothing. I barely knew him, but I knew that. Right then I was as isolated as anyone could be, and I felt safer than I had in a very long time.

“Birdie?”

I jumped. God, I was still staring at him and he was waiting for me to do or say something. His brows lifted.

“Sorry, yes?” I felt my face heat.

“Get out of the cold,” he said again, voice low and gruff. “I’ll be in to make breakfast soon.”

“Right.” I forced myself to turn away and head back into the cabin. The least I could do was make him breakfast. He’d already cooked for me once, and going by what he’d told me, I doubted he’d had someone return the favor in a while.

Hank

I’d stayed outside for as long as I could. But the snow was falling heavier and I needed food. Birdie would, too. I walked toward the door to the cabin, and my gut tightened the same way it had last night while she’d lay almost on top of me, the lush softness of her curves pressing into me. A warm weight that had made me too hot, but craving more of her heat all at the same time.

I’d never experienced anything like it. I wasn’t an idiot—I knew what I was feeling—I just had no clue what to do with it. A woman like Birdie would never want a man like me, and I wouldn’t know how to please her even if I worked up the balls to do something about it. Humiliation washed over me. I should know this stuff. I should know how to act around a beautiful woman, how to exercise control over my body instead of having it respond like a hormonal teenager, but I didn’t.

I wasn’t like my brother. I hadn’t had a lot of experience.

I’d only ever been with one woman. Roxanne lived in town, a good woman who made her money on her back and had offered herself as my nineteenth birthday present, free of charge. My grandfather had brought her out to the homestead after a visit to town for supplies.

He’d left her with me and gone hunting.

I remembered being excited, but feeling on some level it was wrong as well, that it wasn’t what I really wanted. My body had grown achy and hard when she stripped in front of me, like it had last night when Birdie had lay beside me. Last night, though, there’d been no feeling of wrongness.

The episode with Roxanne had been fast. I’d rutted into her, let my body, my need to get off, control my actions. I’d felt disconnected from my mind the whole time. Then she’d screamed, and I’d felt her contracting around me, and I’d emptied myself, gasping and shaking like the inexperienced idiot I was.

She’d laughed afterward, teased me about my lack of stamina, and patted me on the cheek. “Maybe next time you’ll go a little longer, boy.”

A shudder moved through me and I shoved the humiliating memory from my mind, and pushed the door open.

The rich smell of bacon, beans, and eggs cooking hit me instantly.

Birdie stood at the fire, stirring a pot on the hot plate. She’d worked out how to get her clothes down and had changed into a pair of leggings and a fitting thermal that hugged all her curves. She was still wearing my socks, though, and the woolly hat. Her dark hair was loose, falling down her back.

She smiled at me. “I made breakfast.”

“We need to go easy on supplies. The snow hasn’t let up yet. We could be stuck up here for weeks.”

She bit her lip and glanced at the food she’d prepared. “Oh, of course. I just thought…I’m sorry, I guess I didn’t think.”

I felt like a giant asshole. “It’s fine,” I said. I didn’t know how to act around her, and that pissed me off. I shoved off my jacket and hat and hung them by the door.