Page 59 of Roughing It

“Vlogging?” I open my mouth, and she tips the bottle to my lips.

Her laugh dances in my ear along with the pops of the fire. “I had a stupid rant about how much my roots had grown out go viral, and overnight, I had an influx of followers. I never looked back.” She pauses to take another drink. “I curated my following into a niche market focusing on Austin style and popular places to be seen. And suddenly, I was someone.”

I squeeze her knee. “You were always someone.”

“Trust me, I really wasn’t. And I’m still not. But it’s nice to pretend.”

She goes quiet before snorting. “Boy, that was way more answer than I was expecting to give. My turn. Question one: if you didn’t work for Peak Adventures, what would you do?”

“There’s nothing else.” We pass the bottle back and forth; each sip warms me from the inside out, as does the easy conversation between Blakely and me.

“Nothing? You never dreamed of being an astronaut or fireman or circus clown?”

“Circus clown?” I chuckle and give her neck a quick peck.

“I don’t know! Ijust mean you couldn’t have always wanted to be a guide and wilderness expert.”

Did I ever want anything else? Did I ever have the option? Rather than answering, I ask my next question. “How old are you?”

“Um, wow. What a deflection. That’s rude to ask, by the way. I’m thirty-three, if you must know. What about you?”

I smirk. “Thought it was rude to ask?”

“Well.” She hiccups; her pretty eyes glassy. “You already did, so I figure we’re past being polite.”

“Thirty-five. Easy one, what’s your favorite ice cream flavor?”

“Strawberry, hands down. Was Paige your last serious relationship?”

I raise my eyebrows at her question. Ballsy. “Yeah.”

“Have you dated since then?”

“You asked two questions in a row. And yeah, I’ve dated, but nothing long-term.” I eye her. “Same question to you.”

“I dated another Austin influencer, Ryan, for too long. Turns out he’s a cheating cheater.” This time, she tilts the bottle up for more than a shot.

“When did it end?”

“The day before I turned thirty-three. He was the gift that kept on giving.”

I snort at her deadpan tone and pull her in for a kiss. The desire to stamp the mention of another man out of her mouth has me stealing the nearly empty bottle and moving it out of the way, not caring if it spills. Flipping us so Blakely is underneath me on the couch, I seize her lips with mine. I flash back to a couple of days ago when I first crossed this line.

Our kiss is fervent, needy. Her tongue slips between my lips, and her lithe body presses up against mine. She’s sowarm, so alive. I pull her closer, loving how she tastes like whiskey and melts at my touch.

The ragged moan she lets out has my balls tightening and my cock throbbing. With a curse, I break the kiss.

“Why do you keep pulling away from me?” There’s a note of hurt in her words.

I sweep a stray strand of hair off her face, then rest my forehead against hers. “I’m sending you mixed messages, and that’s not like me. But, Spitfire—” I lift my head so she can see the sincerity in my eyes. “I want to believe this attraction is more than just for show.”

“It’s more. I promise.” She punctuates her words with soft kisses. “I want you, Bear. So much.”

I snag a few more greedy kisses, savoring the whiskey on her tongue. Denying myself everything I want, I gently push up and put space between us and say, “When it happens, and itwillhappen, it won’t be on this shitty couch after we’ve been drinking.”

Blakely licks her swollen lips, all flushed like a displaced goddess.

And I’m the mortal fool denying her.

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