Page 10 of The Mountain Man's Retribution

“Goddammit,” Bodie growls, staring at me. “Your body pleases me far too much, Fawn. I cannot watch you?—”

“But—”

“Trust me.” Turning, he rifles through a wooden cabinet, pulling out a stack of two fluffy, clean towels. They are more than Big Man had in his entire cabin. “Dry off with these,” he says, looking away. “Clean clothes coming, too.” Pointing at my back, face red as a beet, he adds, “No one should ever punish you like that. Do you understand me? You’re a grown woman, capable of making your own decisions without fear of punishment or reprisal.”

He sets the towels down and rushes from the room, his face tense and uncomfortable, a hard, large ridge bulges along the zipper of his jeans. It reassures me, knowing that despite his protests, I do please him. God only knows what he would do to me if I didn’t.

Still, I struggle to comprehend Bodie’s words. They feel right to me. That no man should harm me in any way. But they comewith a heated rage that could devour me like fire licked the logs of Big Man’s cabin. So much anger, no seething fury, about what my captor stole from me. My childhood, my family, my life, my peace and security, my hope …

My hands shake as I pull the handle of the glass compartment, closing it behind me and testing out the metal levers. As Bodie said, I balance the hot and the cold, finding a temperature that melts my tired muscles and makes me feel amazing.

I lean back into it, moaning out my satisfaction as warm curtains of water wash over me. I get the unreasonable impression that if I stay here long enough, I might wash away every sticky, scary, horrible thing from my past.

The glass steams up so much that I can barely make out Bodie’s form when he enters again. “Clean clothes,” he grunts before closing the door. I marvel at what’s going on. Perhaps the man doesn’t like women, despite his earlier words and hard dick.

“Deep breaths,” I whisper to myself, grabbing the bar of soap on a shelf next to me and scrubbing my body and tangled hair with it. Even his soap is softer and silkier than anything I’ve ever used at Big Man’s house. Perhaps I am dead and in heaven.

I scrub the dark streaks from my body, lingering beneath the heat of the water for what feels like glorious hours. When I finally replace the levers in their original position, I step carefully out onto a mat on the floor.

Grabbing a towel and wrapping my body in its thick luxury, I use the second to dry my hair before sliding into the stack of clothes left for me. A pair of too-big jogging pants and a sweatshirt. I roll up the waist of the jogging pants until they fit, then slide into a pair of thick, wool socks that extend a few inches past my toes.

Stepping tentatively out into the hallway, I pad along the wood floor towards a white note on the counter. “Taking a shower. Make yourself comfortable.”

My eyes gravitate towards the large hearth, massive river stones used in its construction. Sitting down in front of a crackling fire he must’ve made while I cleaned up, I cross my legs, folding my hands tightly in my lap and straightening my back.

Every part of my being wants to crawl up into a ball and hide. My eyes scan the massive cabin, finding countless places to retreat. But I fight the urge, reminding myself of Bodie’s three rules and adding another to my own. No touching and no living in fear.Ever again.

Chapter Six

BODIE

Ijerk off in the shower, feeling disgusted with myself. But I can’t remember the last time I stood in the same room as a naked woman. And no matter what Fawn thinks, she pleases me beyond measure.

My eyes close, thoughts dancing over her pale, dirt-streaked skin. Memories roving again over her generously curving tits with rose-tipped nipples, narrow waist, broad hips, and impossibly long, thick hair. And God, that gorgeous swatch of brown hair covering her pussy could be my undoing.

I long to clean her myself, let my soapy fingers slip and slide over her tempting curves and through her soft folds, preparing her for my mouth. Buried tongue-deep in her mound, I yearn to show her how things can be between a good man and his woman.

But wouldn’t that make me just like Big Man? Or even worse? For desire already grips me, wanting far more than a look.

This curvy, beautiful woman must go to town as soon as I’m finished with this shower. No matter what she says. No matter how fearful she acts. There’s no other way. I can’t have her undressing in front of me without warning, making me feel things buried in the deepest, darkest parts of me. My homeshould be a sanctuary, not a place of excruciating, endless temptation.

I dress quickly, my mind made up. Glancing at the clock, I see that I’ve got two hours to get her to the sheriff’s department. Of course, I can also call the after-hours hotline. But this needs to happen in person.

I enter the living room, eyes scanning until I see the brunette with damp curling locks seated before the hearth. My heart stops in my chest, my need for her unraveling me from the inside out.

When she turns, her eyes wash over my frame hungrily, searing my naked torso and tight-fitting jeans, making no compunction of eyeing the ridge already growing behind the zipper.

My skin crawls at my need. What in the fuck is wrong with me? As much as I long to live in nature, removed from the world, have five years in seclusion turned me into another backwoods animal? No less driven by instinct than Big Man?

“Come on,” I order gruffly, straining into the T-shirt I carry in my hand as her eyes continue to devour me. “We’re going into town.”

“No.” Fawn gasps, face agitated, eyes dripping with fear. “Please, Bodie, no.”

I shrug, refusing to look at her.

“Please,” her chin and bottom lip tremble, her face fighting for control as she scooches around to face me from her seat on the carpet. “I will do anything you ask. I can be useful … a hard worker. But please don’t make me go.”

“Come on,” I repeat more firmly.

---