Deep in the Mountains: A Mountain Man Romance (Baby Fever Book 5)

by Nicole Casey

  But when her knees rose around my hips, I felt the moisture of her core and I knew she was just as prepared to have me.

  I paused for a moment, our faces inches apart and I stared at her searchingly. The plaintive vulnerability remained in her face but there was something else, something…

  “Fuck me,” she growled.

  So much for the tenderness I thought I saw there.

  “Yes ma’am.”

  Her legs locked around me and I relished the sound of her gasp when I eased my way into her swollen pussy. Instantly, she squeezed around me, causing me to swear. She really was so tight, like a virgin.

  Was that what made me want her so much? The fact that she seemed so untouched, despite her little rich girl aura.

  Whatever it was, my cock responded wholly and I rocked my hips against her, unable to hold back. It hadn’t been my intention to take her with such animalistic force but her cries filled my ears, driving me to the brink of madness and as much as I wanted to slow down, my most primitive urges took hold.

  Ayla’s nails dug into my flesh when I drowned my face in her neck, savoring the moans of pleasure meeting my ears.

  “Y-you’re making me come again!” she choked but she didn’t need to tell me that—I could feel it, her hot juices covering my merciless rod. My sack tightened and as much as I wanted to make her come at least another ten times that round alone, I didn’t fight it.

  I filled her again with my molten, hot seed, biting into her shoulder with more intensity than I intended.

  “Fuck,” I muttered, my heart hammering so hard, I thought it was going to pop out of my throat. “You are so fucking sexy.”

  She laughed weakly, her body shaking beneath me.

  “I was thinking the same thing about you,” she replied and I slowly fell to her side, brushing a strand of damp hair away from her face. Her emerald eyes followed me but she didn’t move her head as if she was paralyzed.

  I admit, it made me feel a little smug.

  “So are you going to tell me the truth?” I asked bravely, using the intimacy between us to ask.

  “About what?” Her brows furrowed in confusion.

  “About what really happened last night. How you ended up in the woods.”

  Her cheeks turned red and she quickly looked away.

  “I don’t remember,” Ayla answered and I half-believed her. I had a feeling she probably didn’t recall how she had made it into the woods but I knew she probably remembered why she’d wandered off in the first place.

  “Hm,” I said, knowing there was no point in pushing the issue. If she didn’t want to tell me, I couldn’t force her.

  “Why did you bring me back here instead of taking me back to my friends?” She challenged, a slight defensiveness in her voice. In turn, I felt my neck tense. I knew this offensive/defensive play. I’d seen it in Helena too many times.

  “Like I said,” I replied quietly, sitting up and untangling her from my sticky, sweating form. “It was a judgement call. I saw your friends were getting pretty rambunctious over in Cottage 16. I didn’t think that was the place you would be able to rest.”

  Contrition touched Ayla’s face and she reached out to touch my arm as I moved to rise from the bed.

  “I’m glad you did,” she muttered. “I really didn’t want to go back there last night.”

  Begrudgingly, I turned to look at her. She wasn’t attacking me. She wasn’t Helena.

  No, I reminded myself. She’s not Helena. She’s a woman who is going back to Miami Beach on Monday or Tuesday and you’ll probably never see her again.

  Logically, I knew I shouldn’t be upset but I couldn’t help but be slightly disappointed by the realization.

  What else had I expected really? She was probably the heiress to some hotel fortune or the daughter of the senator. I was just a park ranger, trying to reclaim some semblance of his life.

  We were worlds apart, no matter how I sliced it.

  “You’re going to have to go back at some point,” I told her, unnecessarily but a part of me wondered what she would say to that.

  “Do I?”

  It was the answer I’d been hoping for, even if it was BS.

  But we could pretend for a while, couldn’t we?

  * * *

  At some point, we fell back asleep and when I opened my eyes again, afternoon sunlight was pouring into my bedroom.

  I tensed instantly, feeling like something was wrong but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Ayla still lay in the throes of sleep, spent and exhausted after our morning of sex gymnastics and I settled back against the pillows, trying to figure out what was bothering me.

  I watched her lovely face, a soft smile toying on her lips like she was having some illicit dream and I hoped I was part of it.

  About fifteen minutes later, her eyes fluttered open and she grinned at me without confusion. She knew exactly where she was now.

  “I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” she murmured, stretching cat-like over the queen mattress. “But I don’t think my body could handle anymore abuse.”

  “Abuse!” I cried in mock surprise. “I was gentle with you!”

  She laughed and swatted at me playfully.

  “I’m not talking about that abuse. I’m talking about the drinking.” She trailed off and looked at me, a grimace forming on her mouth. “I really am not like that normally. I realize you don’t have any gauge but really, I’m not.”

  “You’re on vacation,” I offered magnanimously. “I’m not judging you.”

  “You really aren’t, are you?”

  There was a touch of wonderment in her tone, as though she had never known anyone not to pass their opinion on her.

  “So I guess you don’t want to go out drinking tonight? That was my plan, you know.”

  Ayla laughed again.

  “I might give up drinking forever after this past two days,” she vowed and I felt a rush of relief.

  So she wasn’t as messed up as I had thought.

  “What brought it on?” I asked, thinking I was being subtle by trying to backdoor my way to an answer she’d been holding back.

  She grunted.

  “Stupidity,” she answered vaguely. Before I could push through that response, she shook her head.

  “I’m starving. Can I cook for us?”

  I arched an eyebrow.

  “I don’t know,” I joked. “Can you?”

  A half-scowl formed on her lips.

  “Of course I can!” Ayla replied haughtily, rising from the bed. I leaned forward to slap her naked ass, unable to resist the urge but she didn’t seem fazed in the slightest. I think she liked it.

  She paused, her back to me as I admired her perfect figure from behind. Instantly, I felt a tug at my loins.

  Down boy. Food first before you both die. You haven’t been at this in a long time.

  And as much as I wanted to tackle her back to the bed again, I knew I was right. I’d been intimate with two women after my divorce—both one-night stands. I had no faith in my stamina after being so out of practice but the devil on my shoulder hissed at me to go for it.

  “Are you sure you’re not married?”

  The question served as an instant downer and I frowned at the question.

  “Do I strike you as the type who would take a mistress?” I demanded, offended.

  “No man ever seems like the type to cheat,” Ayla replied with a bitterness that indicated she knew a lot on the subject. I checked my temper.

  “I’m not married.”

  “Okay.”

  She turned around and smiled at me but it didn’t quite meet her eyes.

  “Food then?”

  I nodded and watched as she found her sun dress which had somehow made its way into the hallway from the bathroom. I couldn’t stop staring at her. She was a work of art, vulnerability et al.

  Every muscle in my body ached as I followed her lead out of the bedroom, watching her with mild amusement as she fumbled through my fr
idge.

  She clearly had no idea what she was doing and I didn’t know if that was endearing or hilarious.

  Worlds apart, we were. I knew that and yet I couldn’t help but wonder if there wasn’t some way to make this work between us.

  “Are you laughing at me?” she asked, catching my gaze and I shook my head in denial.

  “Not in the least,” I replied, moving toward her to lace my arm around her waist. “I’m laughing with you.”

  “I’m not laughing!” she protested and I chuckled, kissing her neck before releasing her. I put my arm down reluctantly and sat back at the table, the desire to help her almost overwhelming me but I could see it was important to her to do this and I didn’t want to discount her effort.

  “So tell me about you,” I heard myself say. “Who is Ayla Winter?”

  She cast me a sidelong look as she pulled a package of steaks from the freezer. She was going all out for me. I wondered how that was going to work out for me.

  What’s the worst that can happen? I thought with amusement. Food poisoning? It will make a great story to tell our kids one day.

  I grew warm at the inane thought. I barely knew this woman but I felt oddly connected to her.

  “There’s not much to tell,” Ayla replied, turning back to the counterspace. “I work at my father’s private bank in Miami Beach. I live alone but I’ve been thinking about getting a dog.”

  She gave me a wry grin but I thought I detected a note of sincerity in her voice.

  “I love dogs,” I told her honestly. “Cat people are the worst.”

  She snickered.

  “I agree.”

  “No boyfriends?” I was teasing when I asked but I had to admit, the idea of anyone else touching her sent a flash of jealousy through me.

  Ayla didn’t speak for a minute but I caught a grimace on her face.

  “No,” she said flatly. “No boyfriends.”

  “Why not?” I pressed, sensing there was more to the story. “Not really the dating type?”

  “Everyone is the dating type with the right person,” Ayla countered and I found myself impressed by the answer.

  “I guess that’s true.”

  “Most people just date the wrong people for the wrong reasons and feel like they aren’t worthy of the right people or they just don’t have the desire to look anymore.”

  Tell me about it, I thought but I had to admit the poignancy of her comment struck something with me. I hadn’t really considered romance in the slightest after what had happened with Helena.

  Until now.

  “Which one are you?” I asked softly. Ayla paused and glanced at me.

  “Maybe a little bit of both,” she sighed. “My whole life, I’ve known that I would eventually marry someone that my father approved of. I guess it never really settled in that I might not like him.”

  I felt my neck stiffen slightly. She sounded like she already knew who she was supposed to marry.

  “Sounds rough,” I offered sympathetically. “What would happen if you didn’t settle?”

  She spun and looked at me, her eyes narrowing like she thought I was making fun of her but I wasn’t. Instantly, her face relaxed when she caught my expression. She laughed shortly.

  “I don’t know,” she replied. “Probably nothing. It sounds archaic but I just know what’s expected of me. Maybe I’m just afraid of disappointing my parents. I know how this must sound to you.”

  She was apologizing for no reason. I knew better than anyone what it was like to feel trapped in a situation. She flashed me a quick smile.

  “Enough about me,” she said. “What’s your deal?”

  “My deal is that I’m just a former cop from Knoxville who came out here to get away from life,” I replied truthfully. “Next thing I knew, two years went by and a beautiful woman is making me dinner in my kitchen.”

  She eyed me with bemused wariness.

  “That’s the condensed version,” she sighed. “But I get it if you don’t want to tell me more. You barely know me.”

  “I feel like I got to know you pretty well,” I joked, relishing the pink in her cheeks. She moved back toward the fridge and I resisted the urge to recapture her in my arms. I bit on my lower lip.

  “I haven’t really been in the right mindset to date,” I confessed freely.

  “I’m sure you’ve had no shortage of opportunities.”

  “Flattery will get you everywhere, my dear,” I tittered.

  “It’s not just because you’re gorgeous, Laz. You’re…good. Inherently.”

  Our eyes met and I couldn’t deny that the statement made me feel more confidence than I had in a long while.

  I’d been plagued with doubt for so long about what had happened with my ex-wife. I’d always believed I’d done the right thing for her but in the end I’d failed her. I’d been so afraid to let anyone else into my life as a result.

  “I’m glad you think so,” I told her gently.

  “Surely I’m not the first person to ever tell you something like that.”

  “I don’t have much of a social life out here.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her turning up the heat of the burner too high but I didn’t say anything. We all learned through trial and error after all.

  “You sure you want to cook?” I asked, rising again to kiss the nape of her neck. I felt her body explode into a rush of goosebumps and her back curved into me slightly.

  “Yes,” she replied firmly. “You’ve done enough for me.”

  “I was just thinking that maybe I could take you into Gatlinburg and show you some of the sights.”

  Ayla cocked her head back to meet my lips, her eyes widening as I snuck my tongue between her parted mouth.

  “Tomorrow,” she breathed when we parted. “You can take me on a real date tomorrow.”

  Suddenly, I paled and wrenched myself away.

  I finally realized what had been bothering me from the second I’d opened my eyes after our nap.

  “Oh shit!” I cursed, my pupils dilating. “Shit! Shit! Shit!”

  I looked around, praying that I was wrong, that I had not been so stupid but the evidence spoke for itself. I’d done something I’d never done in my two years up in the mountains.

  “What?” Ayla demanded, spinning to look at me in confusion. The afternoon sun was slowly slipping away behind the Smokey Mountains, dictating that it was a lot later than I had realized.

  “My radio and cell,” I choked, stumbling toward the door. “I’m supposed to be on call today!”

  I didn’t hear Ayla’s response—if she had one as I rushed to the Jeep, my undone jeans slipping over the hips of my boxers. I wrenched open the driver’s side door and groaned loudly.

  “God damn it!” I cried. I was going to be in so much shit. I had thirty-three missed calls from the Gatlinburg Police Department and texts from dispatch asking me where the hell I was.

  Someone is going to be here in minutes. I’m shocked no one had come before.

  I spun back to race inside the cabin and pulling the phone to my ear as it dialed out. If I’d been paying attention, I would have noticed that Ayla was already burning something on the stove when I raced back inside.

  “Gatlin Police.”

  “This is Ranger Lazaro Payne. I have missed calls from the department.”

  “Ranger Payne!” the dispatch sounded relieved. “We had someone coming to your home to make sure you were okay.”

  “I’m sorry. My phone and radio went down. Sometimes the towers glitch around here. What’s the problem?” I rasped in a rush. I met Ayla’s eyes apologetically. This was not the way I wanted our day to end.

  “We have a missing tourist from the Mountainside Resort. Ayla Winter, twenty-five, brown hair, green eyes.”

  Auburn hair, I corrected automatically even though that was really the least of my concerns.

  “We have all hands on deck for this one,” dispatch continued.

  “Got it,” I sighed, my mind reelin
g. I couldn’t very well tell Donna on the other end of the radio that I was having the time of my life with this missing girl but I certainly couldn’t keep her at the cabin anymore. Ayla’s eyebrows were raised in question but I couldn’t address her yet.

  “I’ll call off the unit headed to you, Ranger.”

  “Appreciate it, Donna.”

  I gritted my teeth and turned toward Ayla. It was only then that I saw smoke billowing from the stove as she tried desperately to stop a fire.

  “What’s going on?” she asked when she realized I was off the phone. I brushed past her and snatched the pans from the burners, dropping them into the sink before she could hurt herself. I would be deep shit if the Gatlinburg police learned that I’d brought home an intoxicated tourist and ignored radio calls. There was no way something like this would easily be explained away, innocent as it was.

  But was it innocent?

  I found myself wondering if I hadn’t foreseen exactly what was going to happen all along when I’d brought Ayla home with me. This was what I had wanted—to connect with her.

  Sans the distress call.

  “You need to go,” I told her brusquely. “And you can never tell anyone you were here.”

  Hurt painted Ayla’s face and I heard how cold the words sounded after I spoke them.

  “What?” she breathed. “Is this because I burned the steaks?”

  “What? No!” I inhaled shakily but I had to grin at her hypothesis. “Your friends called in a missing person’s report for you. There’s been a search on for you all day.”

  Her eyes almost bugged out of her head.

  “Are you kidding?”

  “I wish I were.”

  “Just take me back and I’ll explain everything,” Ayla said, looking around for her own purse and phone. “I’ll call off the search. I’m a grown woman. I don’t need to go back if I don’t want to.”

  She gave me a sheepish look and rolled her eyes.

  “Sorry about this, Laz.” She pointed at the mess in the sink. “And that.”

  “It’s not just that now,” I explained, locating a plaid button-down to throw on over my naked chest. “I haven’t had my radio on all day. This is going to look bad.”