Page 55 of Stags

She ducked her head down, sure that he could see she was blushing now. “I only mean that it’s easy to be, uh, free with ourselves because we don’t know each other and we don’t have to… look at each other afterwards.”

He considered this. “I guess I get that, actually. But you’re all right?” He touched her shoulder. “That was the opposite of gentle, so—”

“No, I’m fine,” she said, grinning at him. “I’m not going to break or anything. That was… I’m fine.”

There was heat that rose in his expression.

She let out a shaky breath.

He was kissing her again.

She moaned into his mouth.

He pulled her tightly into his arms. He stopped kissing her mouth, but then he kissed her above her eye, on her forehead, at the tip of her ear, her jaw, her cheekbone. And as he did this, between kisses, he gasped out strings of words. “That was… the hottest thing that ever happened to me… you’re a dream woman come to life… if you ever…”

She swallowed. “If I ever what?”

He kissed her neck. “You know my name. If you want to look me up…” He pulled away and looked into her eyes. “But you won’t, will you?”

She opened her mouth to answer, but nothing quite came out.

“Thank you, Tawny,” he said. “Thank you for letting me…damn.” He turned his back on her, heading back to the tree trunk where they’d fucked the first time. “I’m going to let you be alone and get yourself together.”

“Thanks,” she said in a soft voice.

She stayed where she was while he pulled his shirt on and buttoned up his pants.

He shot a glance back at her and then looked away. “I get you don’t like me,” he told the woods. “But, uh, I really like you.”

She opened her mouth to argue with him, but she felt his semen slipping out of her and she pressed her legs really tightly together, and then he was gone, already, somehow, traipsing off into the woods without looking back.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

RORA SAW STOCKTONcoming out of the field, back onto the courtyard, his hand at his shoulder, red seeping through his fingers.

She rushed forward. “You’re hurt!”

Stockton looked up and saw her. “Oh, hey, Rora, this isjustgreat.”

“What happened?”

“No, no, it’s not a big deal,” he said. “It was totally an accident, and I’m a fucking idiot, and I just need to find some first aid—”

“Let me help you find first aid,” she said. “I actually know about this. They covered this in orientation.”

“I had to go to an orientation, too,” he said. “This is really embarrassing, and—”

“You’rebleeding.” She glared at him.

He didn’t say anything else.

She led him through the courtyard and back towards an area where there were workers set up at a desk, and they handed over a first aid kit readily. Someone offered to assist Stockton, but he took it and went off into the restroom down there on his own.

When he came out, she was waiting for him.

He had taken off his shirt, since it was bloody and torn, and she got an eyeful of his bare chest, which made feel her embarrassed and timid, and also to think he he was actually very nicely put together underneath his clothes. He was lithe and tall and wiry.

She talked to her toes. “Just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

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