Page 12 of Ten Mountain Men

Did someone mention the possibility of me having a concussion?

Desperately, I try to think of a quote, needing a distraction, but as they surround me with all of their…virility, my brain can only jumble up words. Instead of wisdom, it babbles forth with:Much like the robust girth of an eggplant and the succulent peach, true beauty lies in embracing our own unique dimensions, and maybe holding them in our hands—

“What’s that, ma’am?” Lynx asks.

Did I say it out loud?

“My sunnies,” I blurt, realizing that I haven’t been wearing them since…I’m not exactly sure when, but I must have lost them as I ran through the woods. Why is the sun so damn bright all of a sudden? “I was wearing sunnies.”

“What the hell are sunnies?” the grumpy one I took down like a bowling pin, Luke, demands. Then he holds up his hands, as if in surrender. “Never mind. I do not need or want to know.”

He shakes his head and stomps off.

“Sunglasses. My sunglasses,” I clarify, in case anyone else needs or wants to know, or has just happened to see them. “They’re gone.”

“I don’t mind lookin’ for ’em,” one of them rumbles in his sexy-as-sin voice, and I shiver before I even look over and then up, up, up at him, to see that his hairiness has nearly hidden another pair of sparkly blue eyes. Sky blue on a cloudless summer’s day.

“My phone,” I exclaim as I realize I don’t have that either. “I dropped my phone.”

Shit, I think as I remember Mom’s call. Another marriage bites the dust. Poor Clive.

There’s a grunting battle between the rest of them over who will help me next. SO much big dick energy and I’m SO here for it.

I count them up. There are eight of them. Nine, if you include Grumpy Luke.

I immediately think of Winnie, my best friend, who recently found love with not one, not two, but all ten of the Hammer brothers, that lucky bitch. I may have jokingly asked her if they had cousins, because having ten hunks fawning over you can’t be a bad thing, right?

And now here I am. With eight men fawning over me.

Not a bad thing at all. Even if they could use haircuts and a razor. A bulk order of razors. Between them all, there’s probably eighty-five pounds of body hair. Why cover up all the heavenly manliness that obviously lies beneath?

“Let’s get going before Luke eats all our lunches out of pure spite,” Lynx says.

“He’s probably seeing how many rolls he can fit into his big mouth at once as we speak,” one of them says…what did the other one call him? Clay, I think.

“I think I can walk,” I say even though the trees are swaying despite the fact that I don’t feel a breeze.

“Nonsense,” Hunter, no longer holding my foot, says. Then he plucks me up into his arms like I’m an apple or something.

“Hello,” I giggle, peering up at him.

With a crooked grin, he says, “Hi. I’m Hunter.”

I’m muddy as fuck, which isn’t ideal, but it’s not stopping him from holding me bridegroom-style against his chest. His bare chest. Water droplets from his hair roll down his pecs in rivulets that I absolutely must not lick.

Must. Not. Lick.

Holy shit, his biceps are massive. Everything about him is massive. Each stride he takes is about three or four times what each of mine would be. Maybe more.

“You really don’t have to carry me,” I tell him—though, what the actual hell is wrong with me? The last thing I want is for him to let me go. I wouldn’t mind if he carried me straight to his bed and fucked the virginity out of me right this very second.

I’m shocked by my own thoughts. Yes, I’m a thirty-year-old virgin, but that’s by personal choice. It’s not anything religious or moral or about wanting to remain pure ’til marriage or anything. I’ve always wanted my first time to be perfect, is all. And…well. That necessitates the perfect penis attached to the perfect guy. I most definitely have not found that yet. Far from it. And I definitely am not doing it for the first time with a total stranger, I can promise you that.

The altitude or all the fresh mountain air must be getting to my head, clouding my judgment, because other than the massive quantities of testosterone floating about, why the heck am I thinking about sex right now? Unless I do have a concussion and sudden-onset horniness is a little-known symptom of that.

I wince as a pain shoots through my ankle.

“Yeah, Hunter,” Lynx, who’s walking next to us, says in a fierce growl that hits me in the parts of me that have officially been awakened for the first time…ever? “Luke asked me to be the one to escort her, in case you’ve forgotten. Which means if anyone is to be carrying her, it should rightfully be me.”

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