by Lily Baldwin
“Stop it,” she ordered herself. She had to give Ethan the benefit of the doubt—after all he had done for her, he deserved her trust. Anyway, he was also painfully gorgeous and waiting for her somewhere in Maine, amid the trees and fresh air.
Once more, the thrill of the moment coursed through her. She hopped in the car, turned the engine on, and revved it for good measure. After opening her new skylight, she headed out of the city, music blasting from new speakers.
Chapter Ten
Tall pines and lush, green oaks whizzed past as she sped up I-95. After crossing into Maine, the speed limit changed to seventy. She moved with the fastest traffic at eighty-five—a speed her car never would have reached before without exploding an instant later. Big, yellow signs warned her to keep watch for moose. At eighty-five miles per hour, crashing into the top-heavy animal would demolish her car. She would die a virgin, and no doubt the massive beast would walk away with barely a scratch.
She decided to slow down to seventy-five—just in case.
After three hours on the road, she passed a sign for the next rest stop, warning her that she would not have another chance to pee for the next forty-five miles. She pulled off the highway into the packed parking lot, passing numerous cars like hers with Massachusetts plates, but also several from New York and New Jersey. It never ceased to amaze her how many people left behind fast-paced urban living for the tranquility found high in the mountains or alongside the clear lake-waters of Maine. After a quick visit to the ladies’ room, she grabbed a large, black coffee before once more hitting the road.
Following Ethan’s directions, she got off the highway an hour later. She was happy to be on one of the smaller routes with two-way traffic. It was not her usual trek north, and she was excited by the prospect of new views and the thrill of the unknown.
She slowed just a little as the road curved, cutting through a strip of land abutting a shimmering lake on both sides. The blue sky boasted puffy, white clouds that reflected mirror-perfect on the still surface of the water. As with many New England lakes, small islands covered in pines emerged from the crystal depths, and like always, she imagined what it would be like to have a cabin on one of the islands, surrounded by wilderness and water like a fairytale castle with a protective moat. But then she thought of Ethan, and she realized her usual fantasy of solitude no longer held the same appeal.
The truth of the matter could not be denied. She craved solitude because she was afraid of intimacy. She was afraid of being hurt and lied to, but she didn’t want to live life alone. Life would be so much better encircled by strong capable arms. Ethan was like a bear, fierce to those who would endanger what he cared about, strong in his passion for what he loved, but also capable of incredible gentleness.
She shook her head—they had only shared a few kisses, plus the one in her dream. She had no idea what he would be like as a lover. Still, somehow, she felt she knew him. She knew his strength, his fierce protectiveness and possessiveness. His hands could crush bone but also hold her so very close.
Just thinking about his large, calloused hands made her squirm in her seat as an ache began to build between her legs. She gripped the wheel tight as her desire grew. She was aware of her whole body. Reaching beneath the fabric of her bra, she twirled one of her nipples between her fingers imagining it was Ethan who touched her. She lowered her lids slightly, focusing on staying in between the yellow and white lines—everything else disappeared into a blur of green and blue alongside the quiet road while she savored her erotic imaginings. But then a large streak of purple cut through the ubiquity of green. “Oh shit,” she muttered, sitting straight.
Ethan’s directions had said to look for a large, purple house with several adjacent outbuildings on the left. She put her car in reverse and backed up. Her eyes scanned the brightly colored, rustic colonial and the sign in the front yard that read, “Lavender Farm”.
Her stomach flipped as the proximity to her destination invited butterflies into her belly. Slowly, again gripping the wheel, she pulled forward. The next right would bring her to wherever it was she was meeting him. She picked up the paper and quickly scanned the scrawled writing next to the map—after Lavender Farm, turn right onto Pine Summit Road. Stay on Pine Summit for four miles. Last drive at the very end.
She set the paper back down on the passenger seat and took a deep breath. She had four miles to pull herself together.
The unpaved road stretched out in front of her, long and narrow, but well maintained, judging by the fresh gravel and lack of potholes. It started out fairly level, but after a mile it began to climb. The increasing elevation did nothing to calm her nerves or banish her burgeoning desire. Occasionally, she passed a wide, gated driveway, but the natural beauty of the roadside, with its teeming pines and jutting boulders, wasn’t marred by telephone poles or wires of any kind. She assumed the houses must have been off the grid, relying instead on generators for power.
A thrill of excitement shot through her as the incline steepened. The rugged slope would be a hard drive in the winter. Her little car, even with its recent makeover, would never make it. Up ahead, the graded road ended in front of a driveway with two large solar lamps. They stood like sentinels guarding the road that she could only assume would lead her to Ethan.
“Oh God,” she whispered as she continued up the incline. The trees thinned out and grew shorter. She pushed her car up the steepest section yet. Cresting the summit, she gasped as she emerged through the trees. Distant mountains surrounded her, and a log cabin spread across the top of the mountain.
Slowly shaking her head, she got out of the car, completely in awe of her surroundings. Her legs were happy to stretch as she made a panoramic turn, taking it all in. Beneath her feet, white stone gleamed in the waning sunshine. Separating the front yard and parking lot was a line of blueberry shrubs, surrounded by rich, black mulch for a brilliant contrast against the stark white paving stones.
“You made it,” a deep voice said behind her.
She jumped, setting her heart to race. Turning, she locked eyes with Ethan. “I didn’t hear you,” she said breathlessly.
Her gaze traveled the length of his tall frame. Faded, torn jeans hung low on his hips. A crisp, unbuttoned, white shirt gleamed in the sunshine as brightly as the stones beneath her feet, contrasting against his deeply tanned skin. A gust of wind barreled over the mountaintop, lifting her hair off her shoulders and spreading his shirt wide open. Her eyes hungrily took in the thin silver chain resting on his muscular chest, the shifting contours of his washboard stomach, and his chiseled v-line, which disappeared into his jeans. Her arms hung useless at her sides as she wondered whether she should hug him or just shake his hand.
He stepped forward and put his arm around her waist. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said, his voice low and husky. He slowly pulled her against him, holding her close. His icy blue eyes burned through her, warming her from the inside out. He cupped her cheek and gently lowered his lips to hers. His touch was feather-light as his tongue slowly traced her bottom lip. She gasped and parted her lips, inviting, wanting, needing. Raw desire shot through her. His lips molded to hers. She stretched on her tiptoes, wrapping her arms around his neck. Her tongue tentatively grazed his. He lifted her feet off the ground, deepening their kiss. A flood of sensation gripped her core, a consuming ache that pleased and punished all at once.
When their lips parted, he smiled down at her. “Like I said, I’m glad you’re here.”
She blushed. Her eyes shifted to the white stones underfoot. “I’m glad to be here.”
“Are you hungry?”
Hungry? Yes, she was hungry. Her body craved so much more than his kiss alone. But that was not all. She was nervous, terrified, really—of so many things. She feared the overwhelming intensity of her attraction to him. She was scared he was not what he seemed. She was afraid of how we would respond if or when he found out she was a virgin. But more than anything, she was scared that she would do some
thing to screw everything up and never know how it felt to lay in his arms again, surrounded by his steel strength.
“I’m sorry, can you repeat the question?” she said, her voice unsteady.
He smiled, and her stomach flipped at the sight. Then he lowered his lips to hers. This time he crushed her close. She could feel the heat of his bare chest through her shirt. Then he set her down and took her by the hand. “Come inside. We have a long night ahead of us, and I want to make sure you eat.” His blue eyes were smoldering. “You’ll need your strength.”
Chapter Eleven
Angel clasped Ethan’s strong hand and followed him up the pathway toward the house. The sun shifted and began its dip behind the trees. Suddenly, the clouds were highlighted in cool pinks and lavender, giving the white stones a rosy glow.
“It’s beautiful.” Her gaze was pulled in every direction, from the stunning mountain views, to the rustic yet elegant log cabin with its wraparound porch and massive iron candelabra chandelier hanging above imposing double doors. Stone detailing covered much of the facade. There was something powerful about Ethan’s mountain retreat. It reminded her of a medieval fortress, unyielding and indestructible, like the man himself.
She mounted the stone stairs with Ethan at her side. Their footfalls echoed her pounding heart. Her eyes followed the lines above her head. Straight, strong logs joined together to make a ceiling that she guessed doubled as the floor of an expansive balcony. From an even greater height, she could imagine the views would render anyone speechless. She held her breath as he reached for the handle and swung the door wide. A soft gasp fled her lips at the sight of the myriad beams of colored light slanting through the floor-to-ceiling windows lining one side of what could only be called a great room.
Ethan looked back at her, a soft smile playing at his full lips. He led her across the room. Her gaze remained pulled to her left, tracing the dancing beams of light and then outward toward the mountains, now violet in color, like a purple sea frozen in time. Tearing her eyes from their wild surroundings, Angel looked ahead to the towering, cold hearth, wide at the base and narrow at the roof.
“Sit and refresh yourself while I grab your bag from the car.” He poured her a glass of champagne and motioned to several small trays. Arranged on one were skewers of grilled chicken and pineapple, drizzled in a dark sauce; another tray held bite-sized, thinly-sliced bruschetta, topped with red and yellow grape tomatoes and basil; and there was a pasta salad boasting a rainbow of grilled vegetables and fresh herbs. Her mouth watered at the sight. She eased back in the supple, distressed, brown leather couch and took a long sip of champagne, her first. The bubbles tore down her throat, cleansing and invigorating. She took another sip, reached for a bruschetta and popped the colorful bite into her mouth. The fresh flavors mingled with the champagne. She closed her eyes to savor the taste.
She bit into one of the chicken skewers while she scanned her surroundings. The furnishings were a mix of rustic and refinement. Industrial sculptures contrasted harmoniously with log details and cast-iron antiques. Like the urbane yet badass owner—his mountain home blended city sophistication with rural charm.
She turned in her seat and looked at the opposite wall, above which was the second-floor loft railing. In the center of the wall, between two doors, was a large abstract painting. Streaks of red, white, and purple battled and danced with darker blue tones. The bold colors and lines were explosive and drew her gaze across the canvas to every corner.
“Do you like it?” he said behind her.
She jumped a little in her seat. “You startled me,” she said, her hand clasping her heart, which was now pounding at a dizzying pace.
His mouth lifted in a sideways grin that stole her breath.
She blushed and took another long sip of champagne, her eyes downcast, giving her a moment’s respite from the glorious sight that was Ethan. “I do like it,” she said, still unable to meet his gaze. She made a sweeping gesture as she returned to the couch. “I love it all. It’s eclectic, yet tranquil.”
He crossed the room and sat beside her. She lifted her head. They locked eyes. He held her gaze. She felt spellbound, drawn to his scent, to the feel of his thigh pressed to hers. He refilled the slim fluted glass she held and then poured himself one.
“I’ve never had champagne before,” she said. That wasn’t the only thing she hadn’t tried before. Oh, God, what would he say if he knew?
He leaned closer. “I’m glad we remedied that.”
She kept her eyes trained on the ceiling as she battled her nerves. “Thank you for fixing my car. It’s incredible.”
“I’m glad you like it. I know you asked me to junk it, but I couldn’t do it.” He moved even closer, his hand stroking up her thigh. “I find myself very protective of you.”
Her heart pounded. She dared to look at him. “You do?” She swallowed hard, her stomach fluttering.
He leaned close. His hand slid across her stomach, then gently gripped her waist. He kissed her, pressing his full lips to her cheek and then to the hollow of her neck. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her closer, his lips a breath from hers—
“Ethan, I’ve never done this before either,” she blurted.
He pulled back, his eyes wide. “You’ve never done what before?” he said, glancing around the room as if looking for answers.
She groaned and grabbed a pillow and pressed it to her burning face.
“Wait,” she heard him say. He pulled the pillow down enough to see her eyes. “Are you talking about…sex?”
She squeezed her eyes shut and covered her face again, but he whisked the pillow away.
“Look at me, Angel.” His voice was low, but commanding.
She did as he asked and opened her eyes.
“You’re a virgin?”
She wanted to crawl into a hole and die, but, instead, she nodded.
He cocked a brow at her. “But I saw birth control pills on your night table, right next to some nose spray.”
“They’re prescribed by my doctor,” she groaned, hiding now behind her hands. She peered at him through her fingers. “I have allergies and irregular periods.”
He paused and licked his lips. “So, you’ve never been with a man?”
Again, she nodded.
A wicked smile curved his lips. “Let me hear you say it,” he said softly.
She let her hands drop to her lap. “I’m a virgin,” she whispered.
He kissed her long and hard.
“Again,” he said. “Louder.”
“I’m a virgin.”
“Again,” he growled.
“I’m a virgin!”
He scooped her into his arms and stood. “Not for long,” he promised, and headed toward the stairs.
He kicked the door open to his bedroom, all the while holding her gaze. She turned and buried her face in his neck.
“Don’t look away from me, Angel.”
She lifted her eyes to meet his.
“Don’t hide from me.” He set her feet on the floor and stood in front of her. Cupping her face in his hands, he kissed her, his hand stroking down her hips and waist, then curving over her bum. He gripped each cheek and thrust her against him.
“You have such a hot ass.”
She blushed, and once more, her eyes shifted to the floor. But he crooked his thumb under her chin. “Remember, don’t hide from me,” he whispered.
Again, she did what he asked and held his gaze.
He cupped her cheeks. “If you could only see what I see when I look at you, you would never doubt yourself again.”
Her heart leapt. Then his eyes narrowed with piercing intensity. He kissed her. She melted in his arms. He tasted so good. He ran his tongue across the seam of her lips, compelling them to part. Gripping his shirt, she moaned as his tongue slid into her mouth, slowly caressing, tasting, making her heart race and her body ache. She reached her arms around his neck. He kissed her harder, deeper. His hands seized her shirt. Sl
owly, he slid it over her head. Then he pulled her close. She pressed against his chest, savoring the feel of his bare skin touching hers. He was so warm. His hard strength surrounded her, soothed her, making her body burn.
His gaze bore into hers as he eased his unbuttoned shirt down his arms.
She didn’t look away—she couldn’t.
Her eyes traveled over his broad, muscled shoulders, his wide chest, washboard stomach, and chiseled v-line. Then she saw his thick length pushing against the fabric of his jeans. Her face burned the instant before her eyes dropped again to the ground.
He took her hand and pressed it against the large bulge in his pants. “You don’t need to be afraid.”
Her heart raced. She dared looked up at him. “I don’t want to be afraid.” She swallowed, then drew a deep breath and pressed her hand harder against him. “What I want is you.”
With a groan, his lips seized hers, his kiss strong and demanding. She boldly met each stroke of his tongue. Her fingers wove through his hair, pulling him closer. He crushed her against him. His strength thrilled her, fueling her desire. He could break her, snuff her out in an instant, but he used his size and his hardness to protect, not to hurt, to pleasure, not to pain. Her hands moved to the shifting ridges of his broad shoulders, his raw masculinity helping her realize her own feminine rhythm.
He turned her around, her heart pounding harder than ever. His lips made a slow burning trail of heat down her neck, then across her shoulders and down her back. He branded her with his tongue. Heat spread throughout her body, building like fire between her legs. He unclasped her bra, then turned her back around and held her gaze. Slowly, deliberately, he pulled the plain, white fabric away, his eyes never leaving hers, their blue depths piercing, stealing what little breath she could draw. His eyes dropped. He slowly reached out to touch her. His fingertips grazed her nipples. “You are beautiful,” he said softly, reverently. He gently cupped her breasts. “Has anyone ever done this before?”
“No,” she whispered, her breaths catching. He bent her back, exposing her creamy mounds. He lowered his head, laving his tongue across her neck and chest, then lower. His full lips surrounded her nipple, sucking, licking, tasting, driving her wild. A soft groan escaped her lips as she wove her fingers through his hair. Sensation pulsed where his lips and tongue tasted and teased, building and then spreading, coursing through her, racing down to join the deep, throbbing ache at the apex of her thighs.