Page 8 of The Cowboy's Close Quarters Claim

4

CLEMENTINE

The man doesn't even give me time to catch my damn breath.

My heart rate is still up after the best self-induced orgasm of my life. I swear, if Gunner hadn't just been the hottest fantasy I've even managed to get myself off to, I'd be screaming bloody murder at him for making such a ruckus out there right now.

As it is, I throw back the sleeping bag I have draped over me like a blanket-- the summer night is warm enough with my attempts to work out my frustrations contributing to my body temperature-- and throw open the door to find out what his drama is...just in time to get a lungful of exactly what his drama is.

"Holy shit, O'Leary! I leave you alone for ten minutes and you've got the whole place skunked up."

Standing outside the door of the shack, my eyes are watering from the fresh skunk spray.

Gunner emerges from the shadows on the far side of the fire ring, near where the horses are penned. One of the dogs barks into the darkness beyond the clearing.

It's not until Gunner comes into full sight and stands openly gawking at me that I realize I'm standing on the small porch of the little shed in nothing but a tank top and my undies.

At least they're cute boy shorts, not that the style offers much coverage with my generous booty.

"Looks like I'm bunking with you," Gunner's rough voice grumbles as he stomps toward the door I'm blocking.

"Oh hell no, you are not." I put up a hand. "No way you are bringing that skunk stench in here with me."

I can't stop laughing. He looks so damn miserable, and my nose tells me it was his sleeping gear that got the worst of it. If I don't let him in, he's not likely to get a wink of sleep.

If I do let him in, it'll be me that's dead on my feet all day tomorrow after a night of not being able to sleep with this man so close but completely out of reach.

"Damn thing didn't get me."

Gunner steps onto the plywood platform that serves as foundation, flooring, and porch to the little structure I'm calling home for as long as we're up here.

It is not big enough for both of us. Not if I hope to leave any decent amount of space between us any way.

"Smell for yourself."

Gunner stands dangerously close to me and whips his t-shirt over his head. Leaving him stripped to the waist in nothing but pecs, abs, and low-slung jeans.

If that's not bad enough, the asshole steps even closer to me, putting himself firmly into my personal space, so close that if I let out the breath I'm holding, my nipples would brush his naked chest.

Then he leans in, raising his muscled arms to the sides.

He does not smell like skunk.

He smells like campfire and leather, there's a hint of spice from one of those manly deodorants, and the musk of sweat, and the combination is like getting dunked in a tank of pheromones.

Until now, I honestly didn't know it was possible for me to swoon. I've always been a little rough around the edges for a girl. Growing up working with men, even once I got old enough to look at them as more than just coworkers or buddies or my brothers' obnoxious friends-- right till this moment, not one man on the planet ever made me feel like I was about to swan right into his arms.

Taking a quick step back before I give in to the temptation to lick him, I manage to gather my wits about me and get back inside.

"Fine, but if you snore, I'm dragging your ass back outside," I tell him as I crawl back under my covers, leaving him to fend for himself.

The door closes behind him and suddenly I realize just how small the space in here is. With the loft taken up by whatever storage it's being used for, the floor space is taken up almost entirely by the blankets I laid out.

In the darkness, I hear Gunner's boots land heavily on the wooden floor. Then the unmistakable sound of a belt buckle and the soft sound of jeans sliding down those thick, muscular legs before hitting the floor.

My body has completely forgotten the orgasm from just a few minutes ago. Everything is hot again. New pressure coils through my core and I'm grateful it's so damn dark tonight so he can't see the flush on my skin as I pull the open sleeping bag over me-- no matter how warm the night, or my body, is.

At the same time, I curse the darkness for keeping me from getting a good look at his body. I'd love the visual of the lower half to complete the picture.

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