Page 57 of Unwanted

Without taking her mouth from his, she unbuttoned his jeans and slid her hand inside, gripping him, rubbing him. He groaned, his lips breaking from hers as he opened his eyes. She was watching him, and for a minute, their gazes stared as her hand kept moving. It was almost too much, too much…closeness when he’d had none, too much pleasure when he’d only ever given it to himself. Too much, too much. He couldn’t believe this was real. He thought it must be a dream. Please don’t end. Please don’t end. He broke their gaze, squeezing his eyes shut as she kept stroking him, up, down until he jerked and shuddered, pleasure bursting over him like he was one of a thousand falling stars, streaking toward the earth below. But he wanted to fall because when he opened his eyes, she was waiting.

His breath slowed, the world coming back together in small pieces, the crackle of fire, the light, the cold wetness of his pleasure, the feel of Harper’s hand moving up his stomach. He opened his eyes, and she smiled at him, kissing him once, softly, quickly.

They’d mated…but they hadn’t. He knew they had not done the thing the animals did when they mounted and thrust. The way he’d thrust into his own hand when he thought about mating with a woman he wanted to call his own.

“What?” she asked. “What are you thinking?”

For a minute, he wasn’t sure he could speak, so taken over by what they’d done, by the way they were still lying together, her mostly naked, her hand moving over the scars on his chest. “Do humans…mate in all kinds of different ways?”

She smiled, a sweet one, her hand moving to another scar, her finger going along it. “Yes, I suppose so. It’s not called mating for humans though. It’s called sex. Or making love. There are different terms too, but those are the best ones to start with, I think.” Then her smile turned to a frown, when her finger moved to the part of the scar on his ribs that the wild pig had made. He didn’t want her thinking about him fighting with wild pigs right then—or ever actually—and so he turned a little so her finger fell away from that scar. Her gaze met his, and she said, “We didn’t make love though. That’s”—her eyes moved to the side and then back to his—“different. It’s when—”

“It’s when a male mounts a female and thrusts inside her.” He paused for a moment. He wondered if she wanted to do that but wasn’t sure he should ask. He wanted to. He could feel his body hardening just thinking about it. That had never happened to him before—getting hard right after he felt the rush of pleasure that made his seed burst from his body.

“Yes, that’s right.” A blush moved up her neck, and it confused him after what they’d just done. I said things the wrong way, that’s why, he thought and felt a little bad, but that feeling wasn’t as strong as the happiness he felt at having her in his arms, of whispering to each other as her hands ran over his skin. “We didn’t make love, but we touched each other intimately, and that’s a very special thing. To me, it is anyway.” She looked down, so he couldn’t see her eyes and that blush that had moved up her neck, stayed in her cheeks now. He couldn’t understand why she was acting shy talking about it when they’d just done it. That seemed…backward. Another rule he’d have to figure out.

“It’s special to me too,” he said. “I want to do it again with you. And…again.”

She laughed, a happy sound, her eyes shining as she met his gaze. “Me too. But first, feed me, Jak. I’ve worked up an appetite.”

He grinned. He could do that. He could feed her. Nothing would bring him more happiness.

***

They spent the day taking turns reading aloud from The Count of Monte Cristo. Jak read slowly, carefully, and would halt when he came to a word he didn’t know, his eyes moving over it several times before he’d attempt to say it out loud. Nine times out of ten, he’d say it correctly the first time. He’s smart, Harper thought over and over. More than smart. If he ventured into the world, he would adeptly figure out modern-day society in a matter of weeks. As they read, he brought up questions that were both sophisticated—considering how he’d lived—and extremely insightful. He was a complete dichotomy—wild and sensitive, uneducated and astute—and he fascinated her to no end.

Her skin flushed when she thought about what they’d done, the way the lust she’d experienced with Jak was all-consuming. Since she’d graduated from high school, she’d had this idea that enjoying sex with partners of her choosing and then controlling those relationships was the key to her healing. She’d take back her power, she thought. And yet…she’d always felt…removed from her partners. Emotionally disappointed in the aftermath. As alone as ever. So, for the last couple of years, she’d abandoned sex entirely. She knew why she had sexual hang-ups, of course, but the knowing had never altered her reaction to a man touching her. Until now.

Something about it had felt so…decadent. It was funny that that particular word would come to mind in a sparse wood cabin in the middle of the forest, not a scrap of luxury to be found. But, yes, that description felt right. Lying there with him, touching each other’s skin in the golden light of afternoon had felt like the most decadent thing she’d ever experienced. Their bodies were decadent, she realized. They were made to feel that way. It was a revelation.

She liked his uninhibited joy at touching her. She liked his frank questions. They aroused her. Excited her.

Jak was obviously inexperienced, but there was something amazingly erotic about watching him follow his instincts when it came to sex, to touching her body, to taking pleasure for himself. I could fall in love with this man, she thought, but pushed the notion aside. There were too many questions, too many uncertainties when it came to how a relationship with him might work. And somehow it felt…unfair to think too much about her own desires when it came to him. He had lived a life of strife and struggle, and he had so many more—albeit of a different kind—in front of him. It was going to be challenging, to say the least, to learn the many things his life thus far had not taught him.

But for the moment, those were topics too vast and removed to think about. For right then, there was Jak, his head bent toward hers, his forehead wrinkled in concentration, his beautiful lips mouthing a word he’d never said before. There were the warmth of the fire and the bright, shiny, icy world outside the window. Frozen. Just like time seemed to be that day. There was the achingly sweet way he smiled so shyly at her when she caught him staring. The way canned pears made him lick his lips with delight and the way his kisses became more bold, more practiced, more toe-curlingly delicious as the day wore on.

They trekked the few miles to the old logging road, unobscured by the thickness of forest, and Harper was able to get a signal. She called the group home and explained why she hadn’t made her shift, and then she called Rylee and left her a message when she didn’t answer. She thought about calling Agent Gallagher, but he hadn’t left a message for her, and she knew he would have if he had any new information about her parents.

A bird called out, a beautiful warbling sound that echoed through the trees, and Harper smiled. Jak caught her eye and raised his face, putting his hands around his mouth and mimicking the song. It was so exact that Harper’s mouth fell open. “How’d you do that?”

He smiled, shrugged. “Practice. I wish I knew the names for things,” he murmured, almost to himself. “I know what they sound like and what they do but not what they’re called.”

“I can help with some,” Harper said, “but I don’t know the name for that particular bird.”

They walked slowly back through the forest to his cabin, a red fox spotting them, staring with wide eyes and darting away. Harper smiled, wondering if it was the mother fox out hunting for her babies.

“Foxes mate for life,” Harper said. She’d always liked that about them.

“Not all of them,” Jak answered.

Harper turned her head. “What? Yes, they do.”

“Where’d you learn that?”

“In a book.”

“The book lied. Some foxes mate for life. But not all of them. I saw this gray one with four females last summer. They were in three different directions. That guy was always running somewhere.”

“What was he doing?”

---