Page 11 of Don't Make Me Fall
“You can have this back once the hike is over and we get back to the truck,” he says.
“No way I’m waiting that long.” I attempt a second jump, but I miss his arm entirely because the jerk moves it out of reach again.
“Why do you need it?”
“To capture the sunset, you dummy.”
“Are you afraid if you don’t take a picture and post it for all your friends to see that it’ll be like it never happened?”
I don’t justify his pompous question with a response.
Instead, I take a couple of steps back. His expression morphs into confusion two seconds before I lunge at him. I jump, wrapping myself around him like a spider monkey.
“What are you?—”
“I’m climbing you.” The words come out rough and rugged as I shimmy up his body, reaching for the phone in his outstretched arm. Damn the man is all warmth and hard muscle. And why does he smell so fucking good? Like pine needles, campfire, and a hint of cinnamon.
“Alanna,” he says, his word a plea.
“Give. Me. My. Phone.”
He relents so quickly I nearly fall. But strong arms catch me before I go tumbling backward down the mountain, holding me tight against his chest. And then I feel what else is hard about him. Wetness pools between my legs as I slide down his body. I have the overwhelming urge to throw my arms around his neck and kiss him.
I fist his shirt as my feet hit solid ground, daring to peer into those dark chocolate eyes. There’s something primal in the way he’s looking at me. Like he’s a starving man, and I might be his last meal.
“Alanna.” He whispers my name, but this time it’s not a plea. It’s a petition for permission.
I nod.
And then his mouth is on mine.
The kiss is both sensual and savage. His hand slides up the back of my neck, pulling my ponytail holder free before he tangles his fingers in my loose hair. I arch into him, touching him everywhere I can reach. The feel of his beard against my palm has me wondering if it’d feel this soft and delicious between my thighs.
I let out a moan.
He tugs the bottom hem of my shirt free, and his calloused hand slides up from my hip. A few inches more, and he’s going to hit boob. Ireallywant him to hit boob.
A rumbling in the distance causes us both pause, and the frantic kissing halts. We look around us, and then at each other.
“Thunder?” I guess. Which is a reasonable guess considering how dark the clouds are in the distance. But we haven’t noticed any lightning since the hike started, and the sun is still shining through the patchy clouds where we stand.
“No,” he answers, a flash of panic in his eyes as he untangles himself from me, removing that warm hand from the bare skin beneath my shirt.So close.
“Then what is it?”
“A rockslide.”
“That sounds…inconvenient.”
He peels me the rest of the way off of him, and I can’t help the stupid sting of rejection that follows. I knew better than to throw myself at the man. Even a weekend fling with my brother’s best friend would be a terrible idea, and probably a really shitty way to thank Reid for the last minute accommodations he offered the bridal party. Well,exbridal party.
Hudson pulls out his phone and holds it up, as though searching for signal.
“Is this serious?” I ask as he squints his eyes, likely reading something on his phone. “Should we head back?—”
“We can’t head back,” he says, dropping the hand clasped around his phone in what appears to be frustration. “The rockslide has blocked the road, and no one can clear it until tomorrow morning.”
“What does that mean?”
