Page 23 of Trapped with the Mountain Man

The loud pop of the fire barely registers, though I feel Hunter tense up next to me. As the moment passes, the last thing I remember before drifting off is Hunter kissing my forehead.

Chapter 14

Hunter

A naked Abby is still tangled up in my arms when we wake up.

I can’t remember the last time I actually slept with a woman after sex. I’m usually in a hurry to get back to the cabin afterward – not because there’s anything that urgently needs doing, but because I burn out on civilization quickly. I burn out on the women quickly, too. It doesn’t make a lot of sense to linger when we both know exactly what it is: a quick, anonymous hook-up and nothing more. I always do my best to make that clear from the start.

With Abby, I guess it’s implied. She lives halfway across the country, after all. She’ll be leaving as soon as this rain clears up, and I won’t ever see her again.

That thought creates an unfamiliar pang in my chest.

I know what it is, and I don’t like it. My life doesn’t have room for that sort of thing.

Abby wakes with a yawn, stretching all of her bare skin against mine. For a minute, I wonder if I should do this more often. Sleeping over with women. But I know it wouldn’t be the same with other women. I decide to enjoy it while I can, and I slide my hand down her side, across the dip of her waist, and back up her hip. She moans quietly into my ear.

The growl of her stomach is all that stops me from pulling her on top of me and repeating last night.

“Want some breakfast?” I ask.

“Yes, I’m starving,” she responds. Her lips are still near my ear as she speaks.

We pull apart and get out of bed. Abby stands on the opposite side of the bed, stretching again. It’s the first time I’ve seen all of her in the full light of day and I can’t help but stare. When she glances over and catches me, a smile flashes across her face. Her eyes flick downwards and take in all of me as well. She cocks her eyebrow before walking off towards the bathroom. The sway of her hips is more pronounced than usual as she walks away, like she knows I’m watching her. And I am, right up until she disappears behind the door.

I get dressed and start making breakfast.

The kitchen is still a mess from last night. Two bowls sit stacked on the kitchen table, crusted in chili. When I stop to grab them, I glance up at the window beyond the table. The rain has been reduced to a drizzle. It’s brighter than it’s been in days. The sun is peeking out from the clouds, making slow work of drying out the soggy ground. By this time tomorrow, it will probably be dry enough to drive to town.

That damn pang makes another appearance. I brush it off and start scouring the dishes in the sink.

I’m halfway done with the dishes when Abby joins me in the kitchen. She’s still completely naked.

“Coffee?” she chirps.

“Haven’t made any yet.”

When she passes behind me, her absentmindedly hand travels the expanse of muscles on my back.

Abby gets to work making coffee and setting out two cups. I take every opportunity to glance over at her. Between her perfect tits and flat but soft stomach, I feel myself starting to get hard again. She’s everything I love in a woman – fit enough to keep up with me on a hike, but soft enough to sink my fingers into.

When she drops a coffee filter and bends over to pick it up, I know she has to be fucking with me.

“You want a t-shirt to put on?” I ask.

Not that I particularly want her to get dressed. It’s the last thing I want at the moment, but I did promise her breakfast first. She shrugs in response, sinking her teeth into her lower lip to suppress a coy smile.

She is definitely fucking with me.

I take a step closer, pinning her between the counter and me. There’s heat in her green eyes as she stares up at me. Her brown hair falls forward, so I reach up and tuck it behind her ear. With her body pressed into mine, I know she can feel the effect she is having on me.

“It’s that, or I bend you over this counter right now.”

A tiny gasp bubbles up from between her lips. Right on cue, her stomach growls again and she relents.

Grabbing both of her hands, I pull her away from the counter and lead her out of the kitchen. This is all feeling very domestic. Not only is she fucking with me, but I’m fucking with myself by thinking this is going to end well. We both know she’s leaving, but neither of us is acting like it. The sunlight dancing on her exposed skin as we pass the window is further proof that this is short-lived. Barely a rain cloud in sight.

I turn my attention to other things. The bounce of her breasts with each step, the curve of her hips, the little patch of hair tickled my nose last night as I made her come.

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