Something About a Mountain Man

by Em Petrova

She eagerly turned into his kiss, parting her lips for him. He plunged into her sweetness, head spinning with images. He pinched her nipples and captured her moans with his kiss. Skimming his hand downward, he traced the damp seam of her pussy. A throaty noise broke from him.

  “I know you’re soaking for me. Spread your pussy and let me see.”

  She released a shaky sigh of pleasure and reached between their bodies. He leaned back to watch. But the instant he saw the juices glistening on her inner folds, he had his cock in hand and was plunging deep.

  She cried out, rocking upward to take him all the way.

  “Hell,” he rumbled, jerking his hips until he was nestled balls-deep.

  This woman fired his blood—was in his blood. How the hell was he ever going to watch her walk back down that mountain, away from him? But he couldn’t keep her either. She was a strong, independent woman who needed the adrenaline rush of traveling and seeing new places while snapping new views with her camera.

  He was overthinking. Just feel, Stone.

  Oh hell yeah, he was feeling all right. Heat tightened his muscles as he slammed into her again and again, drawing gasps from her. She bit into his shoulder, his neck and finally found his mouth.

  The tug of her teeth only sent him more out of control. “Fuck, sweetheart. Come for me.” He reached between her legs to stroke her swollen nub as he ground his cock into her.

  Her inner walls clenched around him. She tossed her head back, giving him the perfect chance to suck her neck but he’d forgotten to remove her damned scarf. He didn’t want her hiding from him any more than she wanted him to hide from her or the world.

  Pressure built at the base of his spine. He moved faster, pushing her in small increments across the blanket. On the fourth thrust, her inner walls squeezed hard as she came apart for him. Crying out as her pussy pulsated hard and fast around him.

  It was too much. Too hot, too wet… He jerked his head back and roared his release.

  Dizziness slammed him and he realized he’d stopped breathing, holding in every second his release pounded into him. He dragged in a rough breath.

  Barely a heartbeat had passed before his chest flooded with emotion. He lowered himself over Livvy and dropped his forehead to hers, staring into her pleasure-hazy eyes.

  Just one more night, he told himself. Then he’d show her that he had no intention of changing his lifestyle and she didn’t need her to stick around to take care of him.

  And he wasn’t even going to think about the fact that he wanted her to.

  Chapter Six

  Livvy had a feeling if Ryan found out she wandered away from the homestead that he’d be giving her that hard look that would send lesser Marines scampering home to their mommas. She’d seen that fierce disapproving stare many times—had tried to capture it once on film before he twisted away. But even if he gave her that glare, it wasn’t going to stop her from exploring the mountain.

  With her weapon for bear defense on her hip, her camera slung across her chest and a canteen of water, she set out to capture some good views.

  Her sense of adventure kicked in, raising her heartbeat a notch. As she picked her way through underbrush, she let her compass guide her. By her calculations, heading north would put her out on the edge of the mountain faster, and from there, she hoped to be able to see for miles.

  A tune filled her head and she hummed it over and over. Animals scurried into hiding when she passed except for an elk that stood stock still, staring at her with wide brown eyes.

  Livvy raised her camera and reflexively adjusted a setting for the best light, allowing the deep green of the trees and brown of the elk play to their richest colors. She was reminded of her first day on the mountain.

  How nervous she’d been. Unsure what she’d find when she came face to face with Stone. Need sliced through her at the very thought of the big man. Besides being a thorough lover she couldn’t get enough of, he was an enigma.

  While she’d never call him social, he had talked and laughed with his friends in the platoon. She’d seen him pause in the village to speak with a child and give them a bit of chocolate the Marines usually carried on them.

  How did a man like that exist without human company?

  It made her worry about his state of mind, that he must be hiding something from her. Because when he was moving within her, she couldn’t see him as a man who could live such a solitary existence for long. He seemed starved for affection, though not conversation—he still spoke very little and often when he did, he was hoarse after his long bouts of silence.

  She stepped over a fallen log and winced. When moving certain ways, twinges in her body told her exactly where and how he’d touched her the previous night. Images of those broad shoulders hovering above her as he spread her legs wider to fit himself against her flashed through her mind.

  She shook herself. She definitely needed to keep on her toes while navigating this wild country. She didn’t need any surprises.

  A rustling sound behind her made her turn. Freckles spotted her and gave a puppy bark.

  She couldn’t contain a laugh. When he reached her, she crouched to rub his ears. “Where were you when I left? I couldn’t find you anywhere. Did you track me all the way here?”

  He wagged so hard that his whole back end moved, and he stood on his hind legs to kiss her chin.

  “C’mon then. I can use the company. Maybe you can tell me Ryan’s secrets.”

  With renewed interest in the scenery, Livvy set off with the dog at her heels. He jumped up at a bird of some sort but Livvy wasn’t fast enough to catch it in midflight on film. “Next time give me a warning,” she said to the dog.

  Happy with himself, he smiled in response, tongue lolling from the side of his mouth.

  The trees thinned in a natural clearing and she was given a clear view of sky. Big sky.

  Excitement took hold and she walk-jogged through the clearing, past a small screen of pines to the very edge of the mountain.

  She stopped, not even breathing, her hands moving on their own to her camera. Dear God, this was one hell of a playground. The view so breathtaking, serene—wild.

  Like the man who’d staked his claim on part of the mountain. In the distance sprawled stark blue-purple mountains against paler blue sky and a warmer brown below, which was a hillside where elk flocked to graze in the sunshine.

  Her camera clicked away as she snapped photo after photo and breathed the crisp mountain air.

  “Hey there.”

  At the jangle of harness and an unfamiliar male voice, she whirled. A shock hit her as she recognized Aiden Roshannon, who’d instructed her on how to find Ryan. He dismounted from his horse, tugging the brim of his cowboy hat, and gave her a smile.

  “Hope I didn’t startle you too bad. You seemed in your zone—the dog barked to warn you I was here and you didn’t even hear it.”

  She released a laugh. “I get that way at times, in my own world.” One of those times, only Ryan’s order not to move a muscle or take a breath had broken into her universe of angles, light and shadows.

  “What are you doing up here?” she asked.

  “Came to check on Ryan and see if you’d found him.”

  She nodded.

  “This his dog?”

  “Sort of. He says it comes and goes. I suggested that it might belong to the family of homesteaders nearby.”

  At the mention of them, Aiden’s brows tugged together. He hitched a thumb in his jeans pocket, and she could see by his stance something was the matter.

  “Have you seen that family?” he asked.

  She shook her head.

  “Bad off. I’ll do what I can to help them but they’re stubborn and won’t leave the mountain. I’m not sure how they survived the winter, but it’s apparent they’re ill-equipped to handle this rugged life. At least not without some better preparation.”

  “Oh no. How bad off?” Ryan hunted daily, and if they didn’t, they probably had very few rations
that would keep or they were making the long trek to the valley to buy supplies, probably with money they didn’t have.

  Aiden compressed his lips. “They could use some help.”

  “We’ll help.”

  His brows shot up. “You and Stone?”

  “Yes.” She didn’t know if she could persuade him to go to the homesteaders’ aid but once he found out she was going regardless of his feelings on the matter, he’d probably tag along in his growly, grumpy way.

  She brightened. “Don’t worry—I’ll get him there.”

  “Good. They could use the help. I’ll head down the mountain now and wrangle up some supplies to bring them—medical supplies, maybe some food stores. If my wife gets wind of this, she’ll want to hike up here herself and dig in until they’re stable, but I can’t let her do that.” A small smile formed on his lips as if he didn’t believe what he was about to say. “She’s expecting our second child.”

  “That’s amazing. Congratulations. What else do the homesteaders face? Do they have enough wood to see them through?”

  “Seems they can use anything. The man of the place is an artist, I hear. Trying to make his way and follow a dream but word is that they spent their life savings on building a shoddy cabin and a bunch of livestock they probably don’t know how to keep warm and fed during the winters. I think their resources are drained, and it’s time for us to step in.”

  “Of course. Ryan and I can manage help with wood and maybe with fixing up their cabin. We’ll see what we can do.”

  Roshannon tugged his brim again. “Best be on my way. Daylight’s burnin’. Good to see you, Livvy. Tell that man o’ yours I said he’d better treat you well.”

  A hot flush crept up her throat into her face. Her man. Was Ryan hers?

  Last night when he’d come apart and collapsed into her arms, he was.

  But in the light of day, he seemed to find a new will to keep her at arms’ length.

  She stood for a second watching the lawman saddle up and ride away. Then she turned back to the view. It was still just as breathtaking, though now her initial reaction to the beauty had fled, leaving her worrying about a family that needed their help.

  She could saddle Ryan’s horse and set off for their homestead on her own, take Freckles with her too. But then Ryan would return from hunting and find her gone.

  She couldn’t begin to predict how he’d react, thinking she’d gone for good. Would he be relieved?

  Her heart gave a small squeeze of pain at the mere thought. Which could only mean she was getting more attached. Each time she slept with him, every kiss… hell, every look she was falling deeper in love with the man.

  And he’d made it clear he wasn’t leaving the mountain. Would he ever contemplate leaving with her, traveling for her assignments and then returning to the mountain together after her gig was up?

  She pushed out a sigh. She was getting ahead of herself. Right now, her purpose was to make it back to the homestead in one piece and hopefully Ryan would have returned from his hunt so they could head to the neighboring family’s spread.

  Finding her way back took longer than she hoped, as she’d stupidly followed Freckles, thinking he was going the same direction as her, and ended up off course. It took her a few minutes to get a read on where she was and turned in that direction.

  A whoosh of air left her as she tripped over a fallen log disguised by the underbrush. She went down hard with one hand cradling her precious camera against her chest and the other straight out to catch herself.

  Pain seared up her forearm as a stick scraped the whole way to her elbow. “Dammit,” she muttered before plopping face down with her hips humped over the log.

  First thing she checked was that her equipment was intact. Seeing nothing was hanging out of it and nothing was cracked, she checked her arm.

  “Shit.” She squirmed off the log and sat down hard in the underbrush, hoping there weren’t snakes. Her long-sleeved top had been torn open with the fall and she had to push it up to see her arm.

  The gash wasn’t deep but it was long and bleeding. And the kind of shallow cut that stung at the brush of air across her skin. She hated to think what Ryan might—or might not—have to clean it out with. A Marine would be prepared and have a first-aid kit, but he’d said himself he was no longer a Marine. Which meant he probably only had a bottle of whiskey to clean out her cut.

  Well, at least she could take a swig or two first.

  Freckles, thinking she was on the ground to play with him, frolicked over and attacked her boot, gnawing at the lace until she shook him off and got to her feet.

  “It’s your fault I was off course, you little turd. If you weren’t so cute, I’d tell you off.”

  He launched himself at her boot again, a playful growl erupting from his throat.

  She gave a small laugh and shook her head. There wasn’t much she could do out here as far as triage went. She did have her scarf to blot the blood, though.

  She fingered the fabric at her throat for a second before working the knot free and tying it around the deepest part of the gouge on her arm.

  Thank God the rest of her hike was uneventful. But when she walked into the yard to see a roaring fire and Ryan’s back to her as he worked at skinning a deer, her heart took off beating so fast she felt on a high, like she’d just scaled Everest… or laid eyes on the only man who’d ever made her feel as though she had.

  * * * * *

  At the sound of Livvy’s throaty moan, Ryan turned. The knife in his hand slipped and he let it fall to the ground as he clapped eyes on the beautiful—bleeding—woman standing before him.

  “What the hell happened?” He stomped across the yard in four strides and caught her by the shoulders.

  She winced at his grip and that was when he noticed her scar.

  The twisted skin was still red, not fully faded even after a year. And fuck if that didn’t slam him right in the soft parts.

  He didn’t know where to look first—at the old wound he hadn’t seen fully in daylight or the new injury on her forearm.

  “I tripped and got scraped by a stick. It’s not very deep.”

  He let his hands hover over the scarf only protecting a portion of the palm-to-elbow wound. “Fuck, you really did it right, didn’t you?”

  She smiled at him. Actually smiled.

  He glowered. “You’re happy about it?”

  She shook her head. “I’m happy to hear that expression. It’s something you and the guys said often back in Afghanistan.”

  Tensing at the mention of the place that had stolen too much of his soul, he arched a brow at her until she sighed.

  Holding out her arm, she said, “Do your worst.”

  As gently as possible he untied the scarf, trying to keep his gaze from flashing back to her throat. But the last thing he wanted was to make her feel bad for the scar that marred her, when really it was his fault.

  The cloth slipped away to reveal a long, jagged scratch. He grunted. “Filled with dirt, of course.” He looked into her eyes. “You know I have to clean this.”

  “Yeah, I was hoping it was with some whiskey so I could have a sip or two.”

  Worry hit his chest. “Are you dizzy? Feeling ill? Did you hit your head?”

  “Nothing at all.”

  He pulled her toward the stool, moving it back from the flames a bit first. “Sit and I’ll go get my box.”

  Hell, how could he have let her get hurt again? And where the hell had she been? When he’d come in from hunting, his chest had nearly burst with seeing her gone. Then he’d practically tossed the entire cabin looking for a clue that she hadn’t taken off for good. Seeing some of the contents of her pack dumped out on the bed had almost made him sag with relief.

  He was in too deep with Livvy. The smart, sexy and sweet-as-sugar woman had ripped down his wall and brought him out of hiding in ways he didn’t even want to think on.

  When he returned, she was touching the edges of the cut. />
  He extended his palm and she stared at the two pills sitting in the middle.

  “What’s that?”

  “Painkillers.”

  “I’m not in any pain. It just stings a bit.”

  He thrust the pills into her hand and she put them in her mouth like a little kid being made to eat Brussel sprouts. He handed her a canteen of water and she downed them. Though he had the urge to ask her to show him her tongue and ensure the pills were swallowed, he didn’t.

  He dropped to one knee next to her and rummaged in the metal box that kept things waterproofed. “No liquor store up here to get your whiskey. Sorry.”

  She didn’t speak, just watched his face too closely as he located bandages and rolls of gauze. He set these aside and went for a bottle of antiseptic wash.

  “Hold out your arm so I don’t get your clothes wet.” She did and he met her stare. “This is gonna sting.”

  “I know. I’ve had worse, Ryan.”

  The way she said his name, all breathy and lilting with that desire he’d heard for the past two nights had him inching closer.

  “Okay, on the count of three.”

  “For God’s sake, I’m not a wuss.”

  He bit back a grin. “I know you’re not. But I’ve seen badass Marines come off their seats when they get this dumped into a cut.”

  “Fine. Count it down then.” She looked a little more nervous, which made him think he shouldn’t have warned her. But it was only right.

  “Three, two, one.” He dumped the liquid over the cut in one long, drenching line. She opened her mouth to scream and he slammed his lips over hers. Sinking his tongue into her sweetness. A moan passed from her into him, and he hoped it was for the kiss and not the pain.

  Angling his head, he stroked his tongue across hers again and again until his jeans started cutting off the circulation to his junk. When he drew away, she parted her lips wide and yowled.

  A laugh burst from him. “What was that for?”

  “It hurt like hell.”

  “Told ya.”

  “You thought kissing me would shut me up.”

  Damn, but she was adorable.

  He dipped his head as not to mock her with his grin but she saw it anyway. He couldn’t even dodge her palm—it smacked off his ear.