Page 15 of Mountain Wood
That tone of his has me holding my breath.
Those arms, so sinewy and veiny, make my mouth water.
Then there are his big hands. The way he grips the firewood…
The. Dirt. And. Sweat. On. His. Perfect. Body.
“Fuuuuuck meeeee,” I beg as an orgasm ripples through me.
It’s over so fast, it’s hardly worth smiling over.
Wow, am Ithattouch-starved?
With my heart hammering, I hurry up and click out of the app, feeling so guilty for getting off on him.
Why? I don’t know. It just feels… like maybe I crossed a line.
Besides, let’s not forget, he could be a serial killer.
And the orgasm was too quick and short to make my bad behavior worth it.
“Wash it off, Gracie.”
Talking to myself is the only way I don’t feel lonely. I’ve never had a pet before, or a roommate, and growing up with two older brothers wasn’t much fun because I was the baby, and they didn’t let me tag along often. Clubbing with friends doesn’t count because I only have one true friend, Nicole, and she’s living her best life right now without me.
I’ve been alone my whole life. So, I should be just fine in this cabin until I can figure out my next move. Being secluded isn’t a bad thing.
Unless the crock pot killer is still out there…
“Ugh, stop it, Grace. You’re being way too dramatic.” Rolling out of bed, I tug up my pajama pants, wash my hands, and head to the kitchen to pour a glass of wine. The silence around here makes my ears ring. I’m used to city noise. A couple of sips later and I’m meandering around the cabin, restless and a little freaked out.
Pulling the fridge door open, I mourn the loss of my quesadilla. Now is as good a time as any to try to recreate it. I got cheese, jalapenos, chicken, pineapple, and—
Damnit, I didn’t grab any barbeque sauce!
There’s no way I’m going back out tonight. That raccoon could be waiting for me. Or something worse, like a skinwalker.
I’m regretting so many of my life choices, first and foremost being this cabin in the middle of nature. I should have flown to Dubai.
“Grace, get over yourself. You’re a strong, smart baddie.”
Yeah, a baddie with no barbeque sauce.
Slamming the fridge door shut, my gaze locks on the paper taped to it with Dean’s number.
Don’t do it, Grace.
He didn’t offer his number for a grocery run. It’s for emergency purposes only.
I shouldn’t call. It’s stupid. Unnecessary.
Fuck it, I’m calling.
Snatching my cell, I dial him up and roll my shoulders back when he answers in this deep, soft voice. “Hello?”
“Hey, it’s Grace.”This is a mistake. He’s been working hard all day and asking for a favor is selfish and inconsiderate.
“Are you okay?” he asks, his tone more alert.
