Page 10 of Scarred Mountain Man

“I’m sorry you had to sleep on the couch because of me,” I whisper. “You can take the bed–”

“Stop,” he orders, forcing my gaze back to his. “I don’t mind sleeping on the couch as long as you’re comfortable. Now tell me what’s wrong. Something woke you up. Bad dream?”

I shake my head. “I heard something. I think it was a wolf, did you hear it?”

He nods, his hands dropping to my shoulders and rubbing the chill away. “It’s okay, they can’t get in here.”

“Are you sure? It sounded so scary.”

“I’m sure,” he assures me. “Now go back to bed, we’re a long way from dawn. You should get some sleep.”

I look back at the bed and the thought of climbing back in alone doesn’t sit well with me. For one, I feel sorry that this giant of a man has to sleep on such a small couch, but selfishly, I also crave a warmth the blankets don’t offer. His skin feels like a hot furnace and I need that heat against my frozen skin.

“Can you join me?” I ask, thankful for the minimal lighting that hides the blush that climbs up my throat.

“Angel…”

“Please, it’s so cold. I’m not used to this mountain weather and this room is freezing.”

“Okay,” he sighs, wrapping a massive arm over my shoulder and guiding me back to bed. He climbs in first and extends his arms for me to follow and I don’t hesitate before climbing in and letting him draw me into his arms.

“Oh,” I whimper, letting his warm body heat up mine. Christ, it feels so good to be hugged by his massive, warm body. We lie in silence, listening to the distance sound of the howling and othernoises of the great outdoors I would find scary if I wasn’t lying in the arms of the largest man I have ever met. “Shaw, can I ask you something?”

“Yes.”

“Why do you live in the mountains alone? Don’t you ever miss having company?”

Shaw doesn’t immediately respond and when I try to push back from the embrace to study his face, he doesn’t let me. I almost think he’s not going to respond when he finally whispers his answer. “People don’t like me.”

We remain silent as I mull over his words but curiosity finally wins over. “Did you do something terrible? Why do you think that they don’t like you?”

“It’s not what I did, but how I look. When they look at me, they see a monster. I am a clearly large man, but it’s the scars on my face that terrify them. There was this one kid…Tommy. He used to always try to rile me up, calling me names and whatnot. One day I fought back and the whole town started to believe I was dangerous to be around.”

What! Surely, I must have heard him wrong. No way anyone would be that dumb to hate someone for their appearance, right?

I would think Shaw was lying to me if I didn’t catch the faint hint of sadness in his voice, almost as if he’s trying not to care but a part of him still holds resentment over the fact that others would judge him for his scars.

This time when I push back to stare at him, he doesn’t stop me. In the dim lighting, I can make out the jagged scars that cover most of the left side of his face as if he fell on something hot. Ofcourse, I noticed the scars when I first saw him, but they didn’t register as anything odd or something to judge him by.

Shaw’s charms run deeper than his skin.

They’re in his dark, expressive eyes. In his voice and in the way he’s been treating me. It angers me so much that someone would judge him for his appearance, and I want to find everyone that made him hide from civilization and give them a harsh tongue-lashing. Oh, I have a few select words I would throw their way because they are absolutely wrong about him.

Shaw is perfect, scars and all, and it bothers me that he would believe otherwise.

I bring my fingers to his face, tracing the jagged scars with my fingertips. “I don’t see anything wrong with you,” I whisper, tracing a hand down to his jaw where the scars disappears into his thick beard. I should stop there… but I don’t.

I gnaw my lips as I trail my fingers down his throat and to his hard chest. His muscles still when I start tracing them with my trembling fingers. I know I’m poking the bear when earlier this evening I was adamant about not doing anything with him, but I can’t help myself.

He’s so warm and his body is a rock. And a part of me wants to show him that my rejection earlier had nothing to do with his appearance and more with wanting something, and someone special for my first time. But what’s more special than cuddling a mountain man so far away from civilization, with only the sounds of the nature filling up the night air?

It can’t get more special than that.

“Angel, you need to stop unless you want a repeat of what happened by the river,” he says, his voice deep and raspy,sending a shiver wracking my body and this time, it has nothing to do with the cold and everything to do with the man.

I have my warning.

From the tone of his voice, I can tell that is all the warning I’ll get tonight, but I don’t heed it. My fingers stay on his body, tracing small circles over his hairy chest and reveling in the warmth of his solid muscles.

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