Red Hot Lovers: 18 Contemporary Romance Books of Love, Passion, and Sexy Heroes by Your Favorite Top-Selling Authors

by Milly Taiden

  Only us. Alone in the night woods.

  *

  Gray light diffused through the material of the tent hours later. Diane snuggled into my front and I spooned my body around her. I exhaled and my breath created a faint cloud in the tent, but we were warm. The air mattress and sleeping bag for two combined into the most comfortable sleep I’d ever had in the woods. She was right to insist on pillows. Why sleep on a lumpy pad with a balled up shirt and jeans under your head? There was no way I’d bring an air mattress on one of my guys’ weekends, but I admitted to myself this was better.

  Diane softly snored beside me, her head tucked down into the crook of my arm and her hand resting in mine. I remained still because I didn’t want to wake her this early. Morning wood pressed against the dimples at the bottom of her back. I knew I should shift, but it felt too good. Staring down at her, I took in the lines of her face and the small mole next to her right eye I’d never noticed before. I memorized the faint laugh lines at the corners of her eyes … eyes that were no longer sad. Ever since our trip to Deception Pass, she seemed happier, filled with light. Laughter and lust danced across her face when we were together. She was more than pretty. She was beautiful. And I was falling for her.

  *

  The deeper we hiked into the woods, the darker it became. Tall giants formed a canopy, blocking out the sunlight. Thick, furry moss clung to fallen logs and tree trunks alike, softening the sound. Green dominated everything except the dark brown of the dirt along the trail and the exposed bark of the ancient firs.

  “I feel like I’ve been transported to Middle Earth or some other magical land.” Diane threw back her head, attempting to see to the top of a massive cedar.

  “Pretty amazing, isn’t it? This whole area was almost logged in the 70s.”

  “Seriously? Who would do that?” She turned her head to stare at me, disgust on her face.

  “Not me, if that’s what you were thinking. I wasn’t even born in the 70s.”

  “What stopped them?”

  “Tree huggers,” I said and scowled. I couldn’t hold it and laughed. “Honestly, a couple organized the islanders to protect the giants.”

  “I’m all for tree hugging. In Pilates we do something called “Hug a Tree,” and I think of you every time.”

  “Gee, thanks.” I wrapped my hand around her smaller palm. “I’m not for cutting down old trees like these, but sometimes clear-cutting is the best option.”

  “For the loggers.”

  “Not only the loggers and timber companies. Clearcut allows for new growth, revitalized ecosystems, and gets rid of all the dead wood which would combust in wild fires.”

  “But what about the owls and eagles, and little woodland shrews who lose their homes?”

  “Woodland shrews?”

  “Picture adorable creature with a family of smaller adorable creatures.”

  “You’re adorable.” I kissed the tip of her nose.

  “Don’t distract me with your bearded charms, Day. Not when the shrew family is homeless.”

  “Okay, back to the shrews. No making out in the woods for you.” I kissed her again. This time on her lips. “Sure, there are unscrupulous loggers, but my company doesn’t want the guilt of homeless shrews haunting our dreams. Environmentalists will make our lives hell, so it’s easier to do the studies. No hippies living in the trees, and no shrews in the streets.”

  “And clearcut isn’t evil? It looks evil.”

  “It isn’t evil if it’s reforested or replanted with fast growing crops like hemp or bamboo. Burning everything to the ground and paving it, that’s evil. And not what we do.”

  “I like it when you talk about wood. You sound so knowledgeable.” The spark returned to her eye and I wondered if maybe we’d make out in the woods after all. “Did you study this in college?”

  “I did.”

  “Do most loggers?”

  I stepped over a log blocking the trail, then turned to help her. “Not the guys running the saws. It’s brutal work. When I was in school, I didn’t plan on coming back to the island and working in timber. I had bigger plans after Montana.”

  “Professional soccer player?”

  “Maybe. Don’t most high school athletes dream of the big time?”

  “I did.”

  “What did you play?” I had never imagined Diane as an athlete.

  “Soccer, actually. Dreamed of being Mia Hamm. What girl didn’t?”

  “I dreamt of Mia Hamm, but in a whole other way.”

  “Pervert. It’s all about sex with men.”

  “Part of the breeding.” I nipped her ear with my teeth, then kept walking. “What happened to Diane Watson, the next Mia Hamm?”

  “Boys. One boy in particular. I became distracted and lost my passion. Plus, I wasn’t that good, honestly. Not like you were.” She paused. “Oh, shit. Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up … I didn’t mean to mention … that summer.” Her eyes expressed regret.

  “It’s fine.”

  “It’s not fine. I’m so sorry.”

  “Really. It’s fine,” I lied.

  “Last time you stopped talking for the night.”

  “Yeah, sorry about that. It’s better now. You know the story. It’s out there. Sharing it with you made it less painful.”

  “Good.” She nodded and then kissed the back of my hand. “Let’s change the subject. I liked hearing about your work.”

  “Really? It’s pretty boring to talk about trees and logging. Not exactly glamorous, especially to a city girl like you.”

  “City girl? Funny. That girl feels a million years ago. I mean, look at me. I’m wearing flannel and a vest.”

  “You look hot in flannel. I prefer you in one of my shirts, though. Even better if you aren’t wearing anything underneath.”

  “That can be arranged.”

  “Can or will?”

  “Will. Definitely will.” I found her confidence sexy.

  “Damn, you’re making it difficult for me not to throw you down on the ground and have my way with you.”

  She peeked behind her shoulder, and then peered around me down the trail. “No one’s around. What are the rules for staying on the trails?”

  “Screw the rules.” I pulled her along behind me when I left the trail and headed toward an enormous cedar that would block us from the trail. She giggled behind me and held onto my hand tighter.

  I pressed her back against the rough bark and kissed her hard. My beard scraped across her cheeks. I knew they’d be pink with beard burn later, but I didn’t care.

  “Are you sure no one can see us?”

  “One hundred percent. Hear us? Maybe. Can you keep quiet?”

  “Mmmhmm,” she said, reaching for the button of my jeans.

  I leaned into her and rocked against her hand while planning out the logistics of what we were doing. If I lifted her up, she’d scrape her back against the bark. Making up my mind, I told her my plan.

  Before I had the chance to do it, she’d unbuttoned her jeans and shimmied them and her panties down to the tops of her boots. Impressive. She turned around and put her hands on the trunk, and bent at the waist. I stood there, observing her. My hand traced the curve of her hip and the swell of her ass. Her skin appeared pale against the bark and deep greens surrounding us.

  “You going to stand there staring at my ass, or are we having sex up against a tree?”

  “Patience.” I gave her ass a light smack and watched as her skin pinked.

  Who was I kidding about patience? This was going to be fast and hard. “Hold on tight.”

  *

  We passed an older ranger on the trail about a quarter mile from our tree. He tipped his hat to Diane.

  “Nice day for a hike,” he said.

  “Sure is,” I answered.

  “Make sure you keep to the trails.” He winked at me.

  “Will do, sir.”

  “Good. You all have a nice day.”

  I held it together until w
e reached the main road and crossed back over to the campground.

  “Oh my god. He totally knew what we were doing,” Diane shrieked and broke into laughter.

  “He did. Might be the moss in your hair.”

  She swept her hands through her hair. Several pieces of moss and a few small bits of bark tumbled to the ground. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “To be honest, I didn’t even notice before.”

  “I want to die. That sweet, old man knows we defiled his pristine forest.”

  I threw my arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “You wouldn’t be the first person to hump in those woods. You won’t be the last. Plus, you’re a sexy wood nymph with the moss and twigs in your hair.”

  “Keyword nymph, short for nymphomaniac. I’m so embarrassed.” She dragged her fingers through her hair until she found a twig and pulled it out. “I’m going to the restrooms to clean up.”

  I regretted nothing. Moss, twigs, bark, and the smudge of dirt on her cheek I hadn’t pointed out made her more beautiful. She may not have been an island girl, but she challenged the best of them with her spirit. Not many women would put up with fishing in April or be up for a quickie in the woods.

  She isn’t an island girl, the voice in my head reminded me Diane’s lease ran out at the end of May and as far as I knew, she had no plans to stay. My mood headed south and I frowned. Euphoria from sex in the woods evaporated, only to be replaced by dread and the feeling I had when I thought about my mom.

  Everyone eventually leaves.

  ***

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  We cleaned up, and after lunch, headed down to the beach. Down the chalky cliff stretched a narrow, rocky shore scattered with a few large driftwood logs, but nothing like the driftwood graveyard near the Keystone Ferry.

  “Besides cooking over fire, hiking, and having sex in the woods, what else do you do camping?” Diane asked, poking the ground with a stick she’d found.

  “Fish or clam. Nap. Sit around. Maybe play cards. Or drink. The whole point is to take a break from normal life.”

  She nodded, but didn’t say anything else.

  “What are you thinking about?

  “How simple and easy life is here. Not like the constant social climbing, moneymaking world of New York.”

  “I could never live in the city.”

  “Not even Seattle?”

  “No way. When I’m over there for business I can’t breathe until I’m heading back across the water.”

  “Have you ever lived in a city? Maybe you need to find the right one.”

  “Wouldn’t want to.”

  “Ever?”

  “Nope. What about you? Think you’ll move back?”

  “To New York? It doesn’t feel like home anymore, but I love living in a city. Seattle might work. Do you think you’d ever live anywhere but here?”

  “Don’t think so. After I tore up my knee and lost my mom I knew I was meant to be an island boy for life.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “I dreamed big. Got fancy. Look what happened?” I didn’t have to say another word. She knew what I meant.

  “That was all bad luck. Nothing to do with you. You know that, right?”

  I shrugged.

  “John?”

  Keeping my gaze out over the water, I refused to meet her eyes, even after she took my hand in hers.

  “It’s all ancient history. I’ve made my life, and it’s a good one.” I dropped her hand and then strode further down the beach, hoping to shut down the conversation.

  “This explains a lot. It all makes sense.”

  “Does it?”

  “Sure. You live off the land in this idyllic setting. One of those kinds of people who are entirely self-sufficient in every way. You don’t need anyone.” Her voice had an edge.

  “It’s good to be self-sufficient. Life on the island isn’t easy for many folks. A lot of people live close to the bone. Hard to make a decent living when there aren’t a lot of jobs. You need to take care of yourself.”

  She sighed behind me. “It’s one thing to be self-sufficient and another to be isolated.”

  “There’s a reason island people are island people. Part of us doesn’t like how the rest of the world operates. You said it yourself about the social climbing and the focus on money. Here, it’s about living a life, day by day, season by season.” This conversation reminded me how different Diane and I were. Our pasts were about as opposite as they could be.

  “I guess I haven’t seen that side of things. The beach is nice, and Langley’s so charming and quaint.”

  “That’s what the tourists see. They don’t venture into the woods to see people heating their homes with wood stoves and getting help from Good Cheer. Don’t let your wealthy girl ideals cloud your perception.”

  “Ouch. I’m not a wealthy girl. I married a man from wealth, but that isn’t me.”

  “It’s not?” I lumped her in with the asshole. This day was heading south and gaining speed. “You miss your life in the city as much as you complain about the bad stuff.”

  “Sure. I miss my friends and all the amazing things going on all the time.”

  “Right. No friends or anything going on here.” My voice sounded gruff and my skin prickled with anger and resentment.

  “Did I hit a nerve or something?” she asked, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her vest.

  I exhaled through my nose. She had hit a nerve. What was I thinking getting myself involved with her type of woman? She fit into one of the huge houses on the beach filled with summer people and weekenders.

  “People come here for the fantasy of living on a picturesque island, but don’t ever bother to observe the reality. You live in a beautiful house that isn’t yours. You teach exercise classes to wealthy women who pay you to torture them. You probably never even worry about money or how to pay your bills.”

  “Wow. I’m not sure where this is coming from, but you’re right. I love the island for all I’ve seen so far, but no, I don’t know what growing up here is like. I’m lucky money isn’t an issue for me.” Her words tumbled out like a river. “I had to bleed and have my heart destroyed in the process, but yeah, I don’t worry about paying my bills. I loved living in the city and won’t apologize. You clearly have a grudge against city people. I can’t change who I am today anymore than I can rewrite my past.”

  I didn’t look at her when she spoke; instead, I faced the water. When she fell into silence, I turned to see her eyes pink and shiny with tears.

  “No one asked you to change.”

  “Why are you shutting me out?” she asked, staring down to where her stick dug into the wet sand at the edge of the water.

  I said our code word for the second time, “Pyramid.”

  I tugged at my beard. My shoulders locked up and I rolled my neck in an attempt to loosen the tension. Talk of the city reminded me again she never said she would stay. She would leave me and there was nothing I could do about it. I knew I was being an asshole, but that didn’t stop me.

  “A storm’s coming. Unless you want to sit inside a wet tent all evening, we might as well pack up and head home,” I said more to the gathering clouds behind her head than to her.

  “I have no idea what’s going on here, but whatever it is, sitting in a tent with you acting like this sounds like a terrible idea. Let’s go.” Her chin jutted out in resolution and she turned to head back to the stairs leading up to the campsite.

  I inhaled a deep breath and exhaled it out of my mouth with a resigned sigh. In a few short hours we’d gone from having sex in the woods to fighting on the beach. Worst end to a camping trip ever. Except for that time I ran naked through some stinging nettles. The pain I felt watching Diane climb the stairs with her head down hit me higher in my chest and stung much worse than nettles.

  *

  The rainstorm never hit us, but I’d created a storm of another kind. During the drive home, Diane stared ahead or out the passe
nger window, and only answered my questions in monosyllables.

  I unloaded her small bag and set it on the driveway at her feet.

  “Well—”

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “I’m—”

  “No, don’t—”

  “I—”

  “I—” She exhaled. I waited. “I don’t know what went wrong back there at the beach, but before then I had an amazing time camping. Thank you.”

  I didn’t deserve her kindness or her thank you. I was being a jerk. “Listen, I’ll give you a call this week.” My words sounded hollow and lame even to my own ears.

  “Yeah, sure. I have a busy schedule, too.” She shuffled her feet and didn’t meet my eyes. I bent over to pick up her backpack at the same time she did. Our hands bumped each other and I let my fingers brush along hers, trying to communicate the issue was with me. Her eyes lifted to mine, the sadness returned.

  I was an asshole.

  “Listen, we’ll do something next weekend. Up to you. No fishing or camping.” I wanted the offer to be genuine.

  “I’m going to Seattle next weekend. Some of my clients invited me to go out.”

  “Oh. Right.” I handed her the bag. “Well, we’ll see each other. We’re neighbors after all.”

  “Sure. Neighbors.” She hoisted the bag onto her shoulder and then kissed my cheek. “Bye, John.”

  “Bye.”

  It wasn’t good-bye forever, but it felt like it when I watched her trudge away from me.

  Instead of trying to analyze what happened, I called Donnely. After he gave me shit for bailing on him the past few weekends, we made plans to grab a beer and play some pool in a couple of hours. Maybe time with Donnely would clear my mind enough so I’d stop being an asshole.

  Diane once told me I was a nice guy. She was wrong. I was a wolf in nice guy’s clothing. I was an asshole—no better than her ex.