Page 31 of Aviator
She shoves my hand away. “Don’t get all caveman on me now. I’ve been going to the bathroom alone for almost thirty years. I don’t need an escort. We’re in the middle of nowhere.Nothingis going to get me. Now, will youpleasedrop it and let me go?”
Her blush deepens at my stern expression and lack of a response. “Can you,for once, please not be a jerk?”
I think for a minute because if she means not letting her go out alone makes me a jerk, then I’m fine with that. “No.”
She actually growls and pokes a finger into my chest. “Listen, buddy, I amnotin the mood to deal with this today, so pack up the testosterone for five minutes and use your brain. I don’t need you to follow me.”
I don’t answer because I’m not arguing.
She’s not going alone.
End of story.
Blowing out a breath as she studies my expression, hers hardens. “Fine. Have it your way. We’re going to find the stream nearby. And you’re going to keep your eyes averted at all times.At all times. Do you understand?” She says the last bit through clenched teeth. She whirls around, then turns back just as quickly. “Not a word about it.” Then, she turns again and goes out the door.
All these years later and women are still an absolute mystery to me. At least that much hasn’t changed.
The stream we heard on the way to the cabin is far enough away that I pretty fucking quickly begin to regret my stubbornness about going with her. But that same stubbornness keeps my mouth shut. She may have been fine while I was unconscious, but there’s no way in hell I’m going to let pure luck take the reins. Experience has taught me that shit catches up with you when you let your guard down. And I refuse to let my guard down with Kenna.
So we walk for fucking ever, following the sound of rushing water to the stream. Then Kenna stops, crosses her arms, and glares at me with a no-nonsense expression. “If you insist on being here, turn your back. And if I catch you peeking, I will skin you alive. Are we clear?”
She must take the grunt I give as an affirmative, but I mean anything but. There’s no fucking way I’m not looking if she’s getting the slightest bit naked. Maybe the Dean from a week ago could have resisted. . . but the Dean today? He’s fucking looking his fill.
I turn my back like she asked and use the time to scan around us. The sounds of her getting undressed fill my ears, but it’s not the strip tease I expect. No, it’s her cursing under her breath because it’s cold as fuck. My beard twitches with the stirring of a smile.
If nothing else, the woman isnotboring.
I would have thought I’d be ready to jump off the mountain at the thought of being stranded with her. Instead, it’s the opposite. Ever since I woke up with her next to me, all I can think about is carting her off to my place like a caveman and keeping her all to myself.
Boredom sets in quickly—and the pain. Standing up for this long is excruciating, and, in this instance, I have no self-control. So when I think she won’t be as suspicious, I glance in her direction. It’s not surreptitious because I’m not a teenager, but I do it with the full understanding that she may tear my skin straight off of my bones. Those fantasies from this morning have me crawling out of my skin at the thought of seeing her bare. I have no doubt reality will trump daydreams every time.
I see the blood first.
It cuts through the haze of lust quicker than you’d think.
Straightening and uncaring of the pain in my leg, my gaze scans the area for the threat. I almost call out for her until I put the clues together. The blood is on her jeans, just the barest stain at the apex of her thighs. I wouldn’t have noticed it another time if I wasn’t on such high alert. My gaze cuts to her, and I find her wrapped in a blanket, cleaning her panties at the edge of the stream.
A riot of emotions tumbles through me, and I have to put a hand on the rough bark of the tree next to me to stay upright. The thought of her being naked so close to me with the vivid visions of her taking my cock deep in her throat still in my head should cut me at the knees, but they don’t. It’s the intimate knowledge of her vulnerability, like the kind I’d felt when she’d held the water to my lips to drink. The kind I haven’t had with a woman in so long that I’m hit straight to the gut like I’ve crashed a second time. I can’t catch my breath. My stomach is twisting to the point that it blocks out the pain from my leg for the first time since I woke up in that damn cave.
This is why I haven’t been with a woman since I got out. Because I want that side of the relationship, but at the same time, I can’t imagine having it again. It’s something I’ve always wanted. The thing Nana and Gramps had. The forever kind of love. The forever marriage. The good, the bad, and the bloody. Being with a woman, knowingeverythingabout her and being trusted enough with all her insecurities and perceived faults.
You don’t get that from a one-night stand.
And losing a forever kind of love? Makes you afraid of ever having it again.
Quickly, almost without thinking, I move into a concealed spot of bushes and strip from the waist down. Needless to say, not fun or easy in this weather and with an injured leg. My briefs aren’t much, but she needs them more than I do now. Maybe I feel a little bad about being such a jerk to her, but she can’t go without something to wear. At least I know that much, and there’s no way in hell I’m going to let her wear damp underwear in this weather.
I don’t say anything so as not to embarrass her, but I manage to limp to her pile of clothes and place the briefs on top without her noticing. She’ll see them when she gets out and can wear them while hers dry, which won’t take long with the fire back at the cabin.
Besides, a part of me likes the thought of my briefs pressed close to her pussy. Having her scent soaking them for me to wear again later. I won’t analyze how much that pleases me or how fucking psychotic it sounds. I dress quickly, already freezing my literal ass off, and move back to where I can listen for her. As much as I want to take another look, I keep my eyes squarely on our surroundings.
When she gets done washing her panties a little while later, I hear a strangled sound of surprise. I expect her to stomp over and give me a cutting remark, but she doesn’t. I don’t examine how good it feels on a primal level to know she’s naked so close to me. I don’t examine how I keep glancing at her out of the corner of my eye as she dresses. And I especially don’t examine how I suddenly don’t want to get off this mountain as much as I did the day before.
After a while, I worry something is wrong, but she finally shuffles in my direction. She comes to my left side, her head tilted to the ground. “You didn’t have to do that,” she murmurs.
I take the opportunity to get a good look at her face. Her cheeks are still stained bright pink, and, God help me, I want to cup them in my hands and drink from her mouth until I’m full. Coughing roughly, I push off the tree and say, “It’s fine. I assumed you needed them.”
Her head bobs in a jerky nod. “Right. This isn’t embarrassing at all. I can die now.”
