Page 23 of Mountain Man

“I can feel it, can feel you…so good,” he gritted out. Hank wrapped one of his brawny arms under my hips and hauled them off the mattress, pulling me down on his cock as he thrust up, filling me over and over again, filling the air with more of his sexy grunts and growls. All I could do was hang on and take it, take each exquisite, brutal thrust of his powerful body.

I watched in awe as his head flew back and he groaned loud enough to rattle the windows, making me shudder with every pulse of his cock as he shot hot and hard inside me.

He collapsed on top of me then quickly rolled to the side, taking me with him, and he hung on tight.

I absorbed his warmth and let my eyes drift shut. I was asleep in minutes.

I woke in the middle of the night. Hank was on his side curled into my back, heavy arm over my waist, snoring softly. I even liked his snoring. I liked knowing he was there, that I wasn’t alone.

I liked the way he looked at me, the way he made me feel like the loveliest woman he’d ever seen, like even if we were in a room full of beautiful, perfect women, it would only be me that he’d see.

I liked it all, everything that was Hank. In fact, I was pretty sure like wasn’t a strong enough word for what I felt for Hank Smith, not by a long shot.

God, what we’d done—I had never experienced anything like that in my life. I was slick between my legs, traces of Hank, of the way he’d taken me, still there. I’d never had unprotected sex in my life. But I hadn’t even thought about it last night. Thankfully, I was on the pill. And I couldn’t regret it. I would never regret one moment of my time with Hank.

But I knew it was time to go, that there would be people worried about me. They probably thought I was dead. I didn’t want to leave, not this cabin, not Hank. But Hank liked his own company. Soon he’d want his solitude back. He didn’t want anyone else in his life.

I’d never quite felt like I fitted in anywhere. When I was with Hank, though, it felt right. Being there with him felt right.

I needed to go back down the mountain, to my little rental house, before I got even more attached to him than I already was. I needed to go back to the real world, a world that was lonely, and would now be even lonelier because there’d be no Hank in it.

I squeezed my eyes shut, but it was no use. The first tear fell, followed by the second.

Somehow, I’d fallen in love with Hank Smith, and tomorrow I had to tell him to take me home.

* * *

Hank walked in with an armful of firewood and dumped it in the wood bin by the fire.

I watched him, the way he moved, the sounds he made, the intense look in his eyes. Always intense.

Always searching.

When he looked at me sometimes, I thought he was trying to get inside my head, that he wanted to read my thoughts. I was obviously imagining it. The fact that he hadn’t asked to know more, to learn more about me and my life, said it all really. He didn’t want to know more because there was no point. I hated the way that stung.

Hank wasn’t some player, some jerk using me to get his rocks off. He was a good man, a man used to being on his own. And he liked it that way. At least he’d been honest.

I’d just finished making the bed, so I moved toward him, stopping on the other side of the table. “It looks good outside. Clear.”

His back was to me and he stilled like he often did, in that unnatural way, like if he was still enough no one would notice him. Did he know he did that, that he froze when he was out of his comfort zone?

He grunted in response.

“It hasn’t snowed in three days,” I said, pointing out the obvious, trying to get him to talk to me. There was a reason he hadn’t taken me home as soon as it cleared. Would he admit it? The real reason he hadn’t taken me home yet?

He still wasn’t looking at me. “Yeah,” he said.

I forced myself to say the words I’d been dreading all night. “I was wondering if maybe…if the trails were clear…if it was time to go home?”

He turned to me, his eyes not meeting mine. “Your ankle…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “You think it’s strong enough?”

I took him in, his posture, the way the muscle at the side of his jaw jumped, the way his fingers curled and uncurled at his sides.

Hank knew as well as I did that my ankle was fine. It had been fine for days. I’d even gone to check traps with him. Was this…

My eyes shot up to his. He still wasn’t looking at me.

He didn’t want me to go.