Misadventures of a City Girl

by Meredith Wild

  When another whipping wind penetrates my flimsy shirt, I push myself up and lift my right leg to baby my ankle. I grab onto a nearby tree for support and lower my foot to the ground, slowly letting my body get used to the throbbing pain shooting from my ankle and reverberating through my foot.

  Just fucking fabulous. I have three options: stay here and freeze to death, yell out for Luke to rescue me and suffer his wrath for deserting him, or grin and bear it. Propelling myself forward, using the tree as leverage, I take a full stride.

  “I got this,” I say as my lips curve into a tight smile.

  The thought of dying or facing Luke aren’t viable options. I can only move forward. I hobble two steps and grunt. The agony that courses through my body is almost too much to bear.

  “Damn it!” I yell out and crumble forward, using my knees as support.

  Before I have a chance to straighten my back and push on, strong arms wrap around my waist and I collide with a hard chest. Oh fuck. I gasp in horror or shock, maybe a little bit of embarrassment too. I can’t even bring my eyes to look at him. Staring at the shoulders that only hours earlier my legs had straddled, I do the only thing I can.

  I whisper, “I’m sorry.”

  LUKE

  There was nothing to say. Pissed off doesn’t even begin to describe how I felt when I found the cabin empty. She disappeared without even saying a word. I wasn’t keeping her prisoner, but I thought that the way I’d worshipped her body and tucked her into bed, I at least deserved a goodbye. But city girl Madison couldn’t be bothered.

  Instead of responding to her hushed apology, I bend forward and hoist her over my shoulder. I don’t have time to talk. A spring storm is rolling in and there’s a snow advisory at this elevation. For a second I debate which way to go—down the mountain to the resort or back to my place. The thought of having to explain why I’m carrying an injured woman back to the Avalon makes my insides seize.

  “Put me down,” she squeals and pounds her fists against my back.

  I start the ascent toward the cabin. “Hush it.” I swat her ass with a firmness that causes her to yelp.

  She mimics the action, smacking my ass as she bounces in my arms. “You can’t take me to your cabin. My room is the other way.”

  I keep on course and ignore her words. “Don’t argue or I’ll make you walk back.” My voice comes out a little rougher than I anticipate, but she kind of deserves it.

  “Seriously, Luke. I can walk.”

  She starts to wiggle in my arms, trying to scoot down my front, but I tighten my hold.

  “I’m fine. I was just enjoying being one with nature for a little while.”

  “Save the bullshit for someone else, Madison.” With each step, her tits bounce and crash against my shoulder blades, reminding me of their beauty and the reason I’m out here in the first place.

  “Listen,” she says, finally not fighting my hold. “You don’t want me around and your cabin is the last place I want to be, so why not just leave me here and call the police, or security at the Avalon.”

  “No.”

  “Why go through all this trouble when you don’t have to?” Every other word comes out at a higher pitch as her stomach collides with my shoulder.

  “It’s too dangerous with the weather that’s about to roll in. I’m your only rescue until the storm clears.” My feet dig into the dirt and propel us higher.

  “Asshole,” she mutters.

  I hum, preferring the sound of my own voice to hers, and keep moving. As my steps carry us upward, the air grows colder. Dampness fills the air as the impending storm gets closer. She curls toward me and our bodies warm each other. I’m still angry and hurt, but my cock hardens at the contact. The scent of her arousal clings to me, amplified by her nearness. The familiar throb in my pants returns worse than before.

  The cabin comes into view and she lifts her upper body to see my face. “What are you going to do to me?”

  “Nothin’…unless you ask for it again.”

  “I did no such thing.”

  “I do believe you said…” My voice trails off. I laugh, deep and loud, to annoy her. “I want you. That’s what you said, right?”

  Her body crumples against my back in defeat.

  “I didn’t make the first move, Madison.”

  She sighs, burying her nose in my shirt and mumbles, “Well, I…”

  “You walked in and said you wanted me inside you.”

  “I…” She moans softly, her breath warming my skin.

  “Don’t worry. It won’t happen again,” I tell her as I open the cabin door and walk inside with her still thrown over my shoulder. Using my toes, I peel off my boots, kick them toward the door, and cross the living room to the empty chair in front of the fireplace.

  I drop her into it, and she instantly crosses her arms in front of her chest with a pout. Turning my back to her, I start to stack some logs in the fireplace. I can feel her eyes on me, boring holes into my back. When I strike the first match and toss it on the fire starter, she breaks her silence.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispers, repeating the words she first spoke when I rescued her.

  I don’t turn to face her. “For which part? Insinuating that I took advantage of you? Or for not saying goodbye?”

  “Both.”

  The flame starts to grow, caressing the logs. Grabbing the iron poker, I jab the logs both out of necessity and frustration. Remembering the momentary joy I felt seeing her in my bed, my anger starts to simmer just like the fire. “Don’t do it again. I did nothing to make you feel like shit for what we did. Don’t make me ashamed of it either.”

  “Agreed.” Her voice is soft and beckons me to turn.

  She’s glancing down at her blood-soaked jeans with a grimace on her face. Her palms are covered in dirt and dried blood like her pants. She would’ve never made it back if I hadn’t gone after her. She would’ve frozen to death.

  I push myself up. Her gaze follows me as I pull out a blue plaid flannel, a pair of boxers, and some socks. They’re the smallest things I have here and the only things that have any chance of fitting her petite frame.

  She stares up at me with her mouth gaping open but quickly snaps it shut as she takes the clothes from my hand. “You want me to stay all night?” Her eyes are wild and the fear I’d seen by the springs is back.

  “There’s a storm rolling in.” I pitch my thumb over my shoulder toward the door, which is rattling from the wind outside. “No one will get up or down this mountain tonight. Whether I want you or not doesn’t matter. You don’t have anywhere else to go.”

  She balls her hand into a fist against her chest. “Where am I going to sleep?” Her lips are flat and her eyes narrow.

  “Right in that chair. The fire will keep you warm, and I have a spare blanket around here somewhere. But first you need to change so I can look at your wounds.”

  Her head twists as she takes in the sparse surroundings that I call home. “Where?”

  I laugh softly. “I’ve seen everything you got, Mad. Don’t be bashful now.”

  “But, I…” She gapes at me.

  Leaning forward, I place my hands on the armrests and cage her in. “I’ve tasted you too,” I whisper with a grin.

  She blushes and averts her eyes. “You’re still a—”

  I cut her off when I hover my lips a few centimeters above hers. “What am I?” I search her eyes and recognize the same lust she looked at me with earlier.

  “Impossible.” She smiles, obviously pleased with her own answer.

  I raise an eyebrow, challenging her. “Is that all?” I lean in, ready to kiss her.

  “Yep.” She’s quick with her response. Her eyes drop to my lips and her tongue darts out, sweeping across the ridges that I yearn to lick.

  “Need help undressing?”

  Her pupils dilate and her eyes darken, but instead of flinging herself into my arms, she says, “I can do it. Thank you.” She jams her dirty hands in between us, breakin
g the moment. “Can I have a towel though? Hands.” She wiggles her fingers for emphasis.

  I nod and push myself up, trying not to seem disappointed. I don’t know how I feel about this girl. One thing I do know is that she’s fucking infuriating.

  “Do you have a bathroom I can change in?”

  I wet a towel at the kitchen sink and point toward the door near the bed. “Back there.”

  “I need to clean my hands and then I’ll change. Okay?”

  Handing her the rag, I study her closely as she sits in my favorite armchair. “Now you’re asking permission?”

  She glares at me and fists the damp towel in her hand. “Are you going to give me shit all night?”

  “No, but right now it feels right.” I stalk off, letting her scrub her hands alone while I start a fresh pot of coffee to help keep us warm.

  “Ouch!” she cries out from behind me.

  I turn and rush over to her, dropping to my knees in front of the chair. Wiping has caused the stones impaling her flesh to move and the fresh wounds are bleeding again. I pull the towel from her and reach for her hand, but she yanks it away.

  “Ouch,” she screeches.

  “Gimme your hand. I’ll be gentle.”

  Hesitantly, she rests her hand against my palm and seals her eyes shut. Slowly I blot the dirt away, paying careful attention not to make the bleeding worse. Reaching toward the coffee table, I grab my knife and start to move it toward the open flame in the fireplace behind me.

  “What the fuck are you going to do with that?” Her eyes are enormous.

  “Open up.” The knife is in my right hand. The flames are flickering off the blade and sparkling on her face. “I have to dig the stones out and clean the wounds better so you don’t get an infection.”

  She’s holding her hand close to her body “Don’t you have tweezers like normal people?”

  I arch an eyebrow. “I’m a man, not a pussy. What the hell do I need tweezers for?”

  “For splinters,” she asks and her voice cracks. “I don’t know. Most people have a pair for something.”

  I laugh and shake my head. “The knife is all I need.”

  “Said every serial killer ever,” she mumbles.

  I motion for her hand, but I haven’t said enough to convince her. “I have survival medical training. I promise to do it as gently as possible.”

  “Where did you study?”

  “Give me your hand and I’ll tell you.”

  She groans, opening her hand with a pained look on her face. “Start talking.”

  I don’t love the idea of telling her anything about me, but I use it as a distraction to keep her mind off the fact that I’m using a knife on her already tender flesh. “I learned how to treat wounds in the military.”

  “What branch?”

  “Navy.”

  Her teeth clamp down on her bottom lip, and she starts to sweat. She’s tougher than she acts. I know that although my touch is gentle, it still hurts. “You were a sailor?”

  “Not exactly.”

  The dark wings of her eyebrows furrow inward. “What’s that mean? Aren’t all Navy guys sailors?”

  “I was a SEAL.”

  My gaze flickers to her face for a moment before returning to the task, and her beautiful mouth forms a perfect O.

  “For twelve years. Medical training was necessary.”

  “It was dangerous, wasn’t it?”

  “Sometimes,” I lie, because every mission I went on was dangerous. SEALs aren’t sent in for the easy missions.

  “Were you scared?”

  “Never.” Another lie. Someone who has seen any type of battle and says they weren’t scared at any point is a fucking liar.

  I set her hand, palm side up, on her knee, and motion for the other hand. She’s more willing to give it to me this time.

  “How long have you lived here?” Her eyes start to roam around the cabin and for a moment I’m a bit embarrassed.

  I drop my gaze to her hand and find that there are only a few pebbles lodged in this one. The other hand took the brunt of the fall. “Five years.”

  “Five years?” I can hear the shock in her voice.

  “Yeah.”

  “Where are all your decorations?”

  I shrug, but pay careful attention to my blade. “I don’t need any.”

  “That’s crazy.”

  I stay silent, pick the last stone from the fleshy part of her palm, and set the knife to the side. Finished, I lift her against my chest as I stand, but she stiffens.

  I smirk. “I’m carrying you to the bathroom to change unless you’d rather do it right here?”

  She relaxes, rests her head against my chest, and clutches the clothes against her stomach. “No, no. Thank you for carrying me so I can have some privacy.”

  “While you get dressed, I’ll make us something to eat.”

  “Thank you,” she whispers in a soft, sweet tone that’s sincere. Lifting her gaze, she drinks me in with her deep blue eyes.

  “You’re welcome.” I set her down near the sink and make sure she has a firm hold on the counter before removing my supportive hands. “Yell when you’re ready.”

  She nods, shooing me from her. I spend the next ten minutes warming some stew I had stored in the cooler. I set out two bowls for us, and when I hear the bathroom door creak open I look over, and my stomach falls. I’ve never looked as good in flannel as she does right this minute. I want to drop to my knees and worship her exposed skin, taking my time peeling away the oversized clothing from her body before impaling her on my cock. But instead of doing that, I walk to her, lift her easily, and carry her to a seat at the table.

  She lays the napkin across her lap. “Did you make this?”

  “Yeah.” I mimic her motion, resting a napkin against my leg before scooping up a spoonful.

  “Mmm,” she moans.

  I close my eyes for a second and breathe deeply. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it.” I can hear the strain in my voice as I open my eyes. It’s laced with lust and need and the tiny sounds she’s making deep in her throat don’t help.

  “I am.” She wraps her lips around the spoon and moans before pulling it out, licking it with her pink tongue.

  My eyes focus on her luscious mouth and I push my bowl away, no longer hungry for food.

  Chapter Five

  MADISON

  Warm orange flames lick up the blackened bricks inside the cabin’s fireplace. The wind whips outside as the sky darkens to a midnight blue. Luke’s figure passes by the window from time to time. He left his dinner unfinished to take care of some things outside before the storm comes in.

  The thought had occurred to me that Luke might have exaggerated the danger of the impending weather to keep me here, but no part of me wants to take my bruised and banged up self down the mountain right now. Especially if snow is in the forecast.

  I cringe inwardly and let my bandaged palms warm around the tea Luke prepared for me. Now I am alone with my thoughts. I was stupid for leaving him in such a rush. Now I’m paying for it with my injuries and having to face Luke for far longer than I’d expected.

  He didn’t deserve to bear the brunt of my confusion. He was a man—without a doubt, every inch a man—and I’d basically thrown myself at him. I’m not sure what I’d expected to happen. And even when I had offered him everything, essentially free reign over my body, he never made me feel cheap or ashamed.

  My eyelids feel heavy. Maybe it’s the tea, or my full belly, or being swaddled under Luke’s quilt in front of a crackling fire. But even after my respite this afternoon, I feel as if I could sleep for hours more. I let my eyelids drift closed and the tension of the day, of my life, and everything that haunts me evaporates into the darkness.

  * * *

  When I open my eyes again, only a dim amber glow lights the room. Hours must have passed, because the sky outside is black and the wind whistles through the invisible gaps between the logs more fiercely than before. I pull th
e quilt around me tighter, but the cold has already seeped into my bones. My fingers and feet are freezing. I squint and try to make out shapes in the room, but I can’t see where Luke keeps the firewood.

  I don’t want to bother him, but the cabin will be frigid by morning if we neglect the fire. I blink a few more times and try to get my bearings before limping slowly toward Luke’s bed in the back corner. I feel around in the dark, careful not to bust myself on the way. My knees hit the soft edge of the bed and when I reach down, Luke’s body is warm under my hands.

  “Is everything okay?” His voice is gravelly from sleep, and its texture resonates through me unexpectedly.

  “The fire died. I can’t find the firewood to get it going again.”

  “Shit, sorry.”

  He sits up abruptly and simultaneously pulls me down onto the warm place he’d just occupied. He launches himself toward the amber glow, and within a few minutes he’s got it stoked up and throwing a heat I can already begin to feel.

  He saunters back, his feet shuffling softly against the pine floor. The silhouette of his massive frame coming toward me has me pressing my knees together. He really is a sight.

  “Thank you,” I utter softly, gazing up at him.

  Before I can rise and get back to the chair, he’s on the bed beside me, pulling me down until I’m tucked against his chest and under a blanket we’re now sharing. I shiver and sigh, because despite the cold air all around us, he’s a furnace of warmth. I don’t argue with his embrace, or his lazy caresses down my arms that end with my fingers warming up between his. I nuzzle against his neck and inhale, shamelessly reveling in his scent. The cologne designers have it all wrong. If they could bottle one hour of chopping wood, people would go nuts for it.

  I should go back to my chair, but with every breath against his skin, every minute wrapped up in his heat, I soften and settle in. Something about Luke is a natural sedative—that is when he’s not being a living, breathing aphrodisiac and driving me out of my mind.

  I press my lips softly against his neck. “You smell good,” I whisper.

  He rises up on his elbow and stares down at me. Shadows play off his face as he smiles. “You smell good too.” He lowers down and kisses my cheek gently. “You taste good too.” With his free hand he traces a finger over my cheek and along my lips. “Only part I’m having a problem with is your mouth.”