Page 6 of Marked By the Mountain Man
I glance up, my jaw set. I didn’t mean to shut her out, but my body beat me to it. Like muscle memory, every part of me went on autopilot.
“There’s a spare room down the hall,” I mutter, nodding toward the back of the cabin. “Second door on the left. Sheets are clean.”
She stands, grabs her plate, and heads for the sink without another word. The storm outside roars louder, like it’s trying to drown out whatever just shifted between us.
I watch her go, the fire crackling behind me. Maybe I owe some sort of kindness to her father. Maybe I should apologize, keep her safe, and walk the land with her while she fills her little notebook with stories.
Trouble is, I’m not sure she’s ready for what’s out there.
Chapter Three
Juniper
I’m standing in the woods barefoot, the ground soft beneath me, pine needles and moss cushioning each step. Moonlight spills through the trees like liquid silver, and everything feels… off. Like the forest knows secrets I’m not yet privy to.
Then I hear him.
“Juniper.” His voice is deep and rough, like he’s spent a lifetime smoking or gargling rocks.
I turn, and there he is. Knox. Shirt open, chest streaked with sawdust and sweat, eyes burning with something I can’t place. My pulse stutters, and he steps forward, his fingers brushing my wrist.
He’s huge. Huge and magnetic, like all the world’s tension and gravity is pulling me in, whether I want it or not.
The trees lean with the wind, and though I’m hearing a million voices in my head, he’s not saying a word. Instead, he watches me like maybe he’s trying to unravel exactly who I am.
My skin prickles under his gaze, heat blooming low in my belly. I feel exposed, even though I’m still clothed. It’s as though he sees through the layers, straight to the part of me that’s already wanting him.
I shouldn’t be aching for him. He knew my father. They were friends. He knew my mother. Any attraction to him at all is messed up, even if he wasn’t a freaking prick.
He steps closer, and I don’t back away. I can’t. His hand slides up my arm, slow and deliberate, until it cups the side of my neck. His thumb brushes my jaw, and I shiver as his lips meet my ear. “You’re mine.”
The words spill like a confession, and they cause the forest to melt away, leaving me with a puddle of sopping heat between my legs.
I don’t even remember falling asleep. One second, I’m lying irritated on this lumpy old mattress. The next, I was in a forest with the giant I can’t stand, though my body isn’t quite reacting to him the way my brain is.
My nipples are erect against the T-shirt I brought for sleeping, and my thighs are a sloppy mess at the thought of him touching me. It wasn’t even sexual. He just… touched me.
Am I that desperate to be touched that I cream at the mere brushing of a big, masculine man?God, I really need to get a grip.
This guy is a total asshole. There’s no redeeming quality about him… aside from his totally stacked body. I mean, I’m not sure a nun would be able to control herself around him. At least that’s the story I tell myself when I tuck into my panties and rub rough circles around my clit. I need to get these urges out of my system before I see him again today.
I need to come, release, let this tension out of my body, but not while I’m thinking of him. No, I’m not going to masturbate to thoughts of the guy who discredited my entire career.
I flip into my usual fantasy. The one where I’m at the doctor’s office, and suddenly out of nowhere, the doctor wants more than an exam. He wants control of me. He wants to touch me where he shouldn’t, bend me over, make me his sex slave.
I try to sink into the storyline as I continue to rub, but Knox’s face keeps replacing the sitcom perfect doctor I usually see.
It shouldn’t be turning me on. I should stop, but I can’t. He looks so good in that white coat. His big, rough hands feel so good on my skin.
I swallow hard and grip my breast with my opposite hand, tweaking my nipples as I scrub harder. My eyes close, still imagining the things Dr. Knox would do to me.
The way he’d demand I get on my knees and suck his massive cock, or the way he’d growl as he spread my legs and thrust into me like he owned me.
Oh God!
Without hesitation, my fingers find their way into my soaking pussy, then I pull them out again before scrubbing over my clit. The initial contact with my silky, wet crease makes me jump and moan.
I slap my hand over my mouth, muffling the sounds in the quiet cabin, suddenly wondering what would happen if the giant opened my bedroom door and saw me touching myself.
