Page 36 of Fourth Point Of Contact

The mud slapped against his face, lodging in his throat right on an inhale. Bending over, he choked and gasped, fighting to breathe.

“Serves you right for being mean to me,” I huffed, spinning on my heel to take off. “Stupid me.Feel sorry for me. I was a male stripper and everyone liked to watch me take off my clothes?—”

I gasped as he grabbed my elbow and spun me around. I opened my mouth to yell at him, only to find a handful of mud headed my way. I screeched as I dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes. Just as I thought I had escaped, he was on me, pressing me into the ground with his large frame.

“Let me go! I’m a little woman!”

“You may be little, but you have one hell of a mouth on you,” he breathed in my ear.

I bucked up with all my might, which only served to press his body closer to mine. The man was just too damn big for his own good. “Get off me,” I growled.

“Why? Because you don’t like the feel of my body against yours?” He punctuated the statement by grinding his cock against me.

I narrowed my eyes at him to keep from moaning at the feel of a man between my legs. That was wrong, right? I shouldn’t feel that way after my fiancé just destroyed everything. I should be in another bottle right now. Not wishing this man would lift my skirt and do unspeakable things to me.

“You wish.”

“I do, baby, but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna tear your skirt off and fuck you in the mud.”

That was a shame.

“Now, how about we stop throwing mud at each other and find a way to get the fuck out of here? Truce?”

I pursed my lips at him. “As long as you give me one embarrassing story. And it has to be good. None of this fictional embarrassment.”

For a moment, I didn’t think he was going to say a thing. But then he leaned in closer until our lips were almost touching. “I fell in love with my best friend’s wife while he was married to her.”

My breath caught in my chest at the seriousness in his eyes, but before I could ask anything else, he shoved off me and walked away.

I was hot.So freaking hot. We’d been walking for hours and hadn’t had a drop of water. Sweat coated my skin, glistening and attracting every mosquito in the Catskills. I’d scrubbed off as much mud as I could over the past few hours, but nothing seemed to help make me more comfortable.

If this was one of my books, Patrick would have already conjured water from thin air and held me as he tipped the cool water against my lips. Then he would have brushed my hair back from my face and told me I looked beautiful anyway. And when I nearly passed out, wings would sprout from his back and he would fly me to a cabin where we’d be alone for the next five days while he made passionate love to me until we had to go back to reality where he would fight some underground demon and I came in with the shining silver sword to fight by his side.

But we were not in a book and Patrick was not one of my favorite heroes. Not in my books, anyway.

“Ugh!” I screamed under my breath when I killed another mosquito on my arm. “Leave me alone!” I shouted, spinning around in a fit of insanity.

“It’s cute that you think they’ll listen.”

“I know they won’t listen,” I snapped. “But they’re eating me alive! I’m tired and I’m hungry and I’m thirsty and I’m covered in mud!”

He nodded at me like I was going crazy. Well, maybe I was. After all, just this morning, I had a place to stay and lots of alcohol to keep me company. Now I was trudging through the mountains, battling mosquitoes, and sweating like crazy. I couldn’t remember a time I’d ever been this miserable.

“Well, we’re not going to find water by hanging out here.” He turned and walked away.

“That—That’s it?” I screamed.

“Well, what did you want me to say?” he asked over his shoulder. “Yes, it sucks, but it’s only going to suck more by hanging out around here.”

Yes, he was right, but I was in the middle of a temper tantrum, and the way he was ignoring it sort of defeated the purpose of me having one in the first place.

I ran to catch up, wincing at the pain in my feet. Running barefoot through the mountains was not for the faint of heart. I needed a distraction if I was going to keep moving without complaining every five seconds, so I brought the conversation back to him and the gigantic admission he’d made hours ago.

“Whatever happened with the woman you fell in love with?”

“She committed suicide,” he said, not even breaking his stride.

However, that admission knocked me for a loop. “Oh. I’m so sorry.”

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