by Frankie Love
He shakes his head, stepping closer and cradling me in his arms. “Oh, Hazel, how wrong you are.”
I swallow, thinking he might walk away, leaving me undressed and alone.
I don’t want to be alone anymore.
“Being fragile isn’t a bad thing. It’s a beautiful thing. Being fragile doesn't mean you're not also strong. And I want to be gentle with you, regardless of your past. I told you tonight would be wild, but precious too. You, Hazel, are precious.”
I blink back tears, ones I hadn’t expected. And then Clive is pulling off his tee-shirt and taking off his jeans and standing before me, ripped and rugged and mine for the taking.
“Oh, God,” I mutter.
“Is this where you decide I’m too fragile for you?” he jokes, reaching around my waist, and pulling me close. I feel his hardness through his boxers, and it awakens me to my core.
I bite back a smile. “You are not fragile.” I tentatively run my hand over his chiseled chest. “You are solid.” I smack his abs, proving all six of them are as firm as they look.
“Oh, baby,” he groans. “I’m not just solid. I’m rock hard.”
He takes my hand and presses it against his length, and my eyelids flutter, feeling a cock for the first time. He is big and thick and I need to see more. I need it all.
His fingers slip under the waistband of my panties, easing them down. And then my pussy is bare and I need him bare, too. I hook my fingers into his boxers and tug, freeing his cock and seeing exactly what he is made of.
I gasp at the size, the length. He is all man—man candy. And he was made to please. It may be lewd to think, but all I want is to lick his hard lollipop until I get a sugar rush.
He unhooks my bra and tosses it aside. His hands taking hold of my round breasts and he runs his fingers over them, plucking my nipples and shaking his head. “Your tits are fucking insane, Hazel. So perky and perfect.” He lowers his head, his tongue licking them, sucking on them.
My hands run through his hair, and with eyes closed, I let the sensation of his mouth against my breasts rush over me. It makes me feel beautiful and alive and when my fingers circle around his cock I forget to breathe.
Catching my breath, I move closer to him, his long, velvety length needy and so is my body.
Clive draws me to the bed and when I’m lying on my back, he spreads my legs. “You are my heaven,” he says, his voice hushed, as he kisses my thighs. His lips make love to my pussy and when he dips his tongue inside me, licking me and leaving kisses against my most tender spots, I forget all about what led me to Linesworth. I forget about my mom and sister dying. I forget the man who hurt them, and whom I escaped. I forget the heartache and heartbreak that left me alone, scared, and broken. I had no one but myself. In this moment, I forget all that.
In this moment, I am not alone. Clive is here, taking away my bad memories and replacing them with kisses.
His tongue runs up and down my wet slit, and a finger slips inside me. My knees buckle, wondering if feeling this good is too much, too soon, but then Clive looks up and our eyes meet.
My knees drop, my fear cowed with his solid promise of taking care of me tonight.
“You taste like cherries,” he tells me with a smile.
“Don’t tease me,” I say playfully.
“I would never.” He pulls himself up, over me, and his cock is hard against my belly.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
He grins, then leaving kisses on my cheek, my collarbone, right between my breasts. “I haven’t earned a thank you yet.”
“Then do what it takes to get one, Clive.” I arch my back, telling him not to wait any longer.
He reaches for his jeans, and finds a condom. I resist teasing him about expectations. The truth is, when I showered today, I touched myself with visions of his naked body playing in my mind. I had hoped the night would end the exact same way.
He rolls it on his massive cock and my legs open, wrapping around him. I may have never done this before, but my body knows what my mind doesn’t.
“You feel so goddamn good,” he tells me.
“You haven’t even tried to go inside,” I say with a half-smile.
He shakes his head, his hand on his cock guiding himself toward me. “No, under me. Next to me. With me. That’s what feels good, Hazel. That is what feels so damn right.”
Then he presses himself inside me, ever so slowly, taking what is mine as I offer what I want him to have.
“Am I hurting you?” he asks, his hands pushing back the hair on my forehead, his other arm holding him up on my side so his powerful body doesn’t crush me.
“Not in a way that’s unbearable,” I tell him truthfully.
“The pain will pass,” he promises.
“It always does,” I say, my voice hitching at the truth. My eyes close as he enters me more fully. My pussy screams for just a moment as Clive’s words become true. With his cock inside me, the pain turns to pleasure. The hurt becomes hope. And our bodies collide with a crash.
“Clive,” I whimper, my legs wrapping around him, wanting to be closer until we are one. I don’t know what’s happening to my heart, but it’s being stripped of things I pretended I no longer harbored deep inside. The wounds of my past heal as Clive moves against me, ever so slowly.
Not all men are here to kill and destroy.
Some men are here to have and to hold.
So, I’ll hold on tight and won’t let go.
I don’t know what will happen tomorrow with Clive and me but I know that right now, he is giving me a gift.
He rocks against me, my body opening to his.
Our fingers lace; our bodies one, as we come together.
And when we come, it’s more than wild and precious.
It’s a miracle in the making.
Chapter 7
Her body moves against me all night long. We find a rhythm as we move as one. On her knees, she takes my cock, sucking me with a smile splayed on her angel face. I come against her, and she swallows me, wiping her mouth and telling me I’m whipped cream and sprinkles.
I already had the cherry on top when she gave me her virginity.
I lick her cunt until she drips and my beard is coated in her desire and damn, her pussy is the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted. Which is saying something, because her lips are candy in and of themselves.
When we are spent in every way, and then some, I hold her close and ask her what brought her here, why she has no one else.
“It’s not a pretty story.”
I cradle her in my arms, looking deep into her eyes. “I don’t want a pretty story. I want your story.”
“I don’t want to scare you away, Clive.” Her voice is so soft it’s a whisper. “Whenever I talk about it, I start crying.”
I pull her closer. “I promise to be here, ready to wipe your tears away.”
My promise soothes her, and she begins to open up, one memory at a time, revealing a life that is heartbreaking and brave. Hazel is a survivor, and she is that much more beautiful because of it.
She tells me her stepfather was a nightmare, but that he got locked up two years ago for murdering her family. The truth shocks me, and I ask how the hell she moves on from that sort of pain, how she smiles and makes candy for a living when she has been through so much. How does one swallow something that bitter and come out so damn sweet?
She rests her head against my chest, telling me that if she forfeited living her best life, then her step-dad would have another victim. Her. And she wasn’t going to lose her life because he took the lives of the people she loved.
I thought Hazel was a gift before… but her words tell me she is more than that. She is a golden treasure. How anyone can be so strong in the face of tragedy amazes me. She is more than I deserve.
I kiss her, not wanting her dreams to be clouded by those bad memories. I kiss her, wanting her to drift away feeling safe.
When we fall asleep, our bodies are a tangle o
f sweat and sex and something more.
Something that wakes me dead in the night.
Something that fucking terrifies me.
Hazel has already lost so damn much. My biggest fear has always been dying while on the mountain just like Luke. Leaving the person I loved, someone who can’t pick up the pieces on her own, just like my sister.
I can’t do that to Hazel. That’s why I swore off women in the first place. I won’t be the reason Hazel experiences any more pain. She, more than anyone I have ever met, deserves to be happy.
And falling in love? It’s just too damn risky.
Watching my sister lose Luke was hell.
And if she hadn’t fallen in love with him, she wouldn’t have spent three years putting herself back together.
She would have always been whole.
And I won’t do that to Hazel. It’s better to walk away before either of us falls in too deep.
I slip out of the bed and find my clothes. I kiss her cheek, pull the blanket up around her shoulders and silently tell her goodbye.
After going to my place and packing a backpack with a week’s worth of supplies, I email Charlie, not telling him anything other than I’d be gone for a week on a solo trip. I’m not ready to get all touchy-feely with him—especially when it comes to Hazel.
I begin a hike straight out of town knowing it’s less than five miles to the national forest anyway. As the night turns to dawn, I begin my ascent into the mountains, not looking back.
Chapter 8
When I wake to an empty house, I tell myself Clive went out for coffee. After thirty minutes pass, I decide he must have had to leave early for work. I look on my kitchen table, thinking maybe he left a note—but there’s nothing.
Deciding that there must be an explanation I don’t understand, I decide to shower and get my day going regardless. It’s Sunday and a busy day in town, or so I’ve heard. And I need to get out there and hustle my candy if I want this business to succeed.
I look at my bed longingly, remembering how Clive and I rolled around in it for hours last night.
My legs are sore but my heart is full. And even when I step in the shower and lather up with soap, I can’t wash the smile off my face.
People say you can’t fall in love at first sight and maybe that is true. But I think you can fall in love after one date because that is what I think is happening to me.
It’s not lust or infatuation. Clive may be sexy as hell, but he is so much more than meets the eye. His rough exterior that drives women wild is not for show. He keeps parts of himself hidden to protect whatever he has buried, and if I had the privilege of helping him shake off some of that armor, it would be an honor.
I want to know him, all of him. And I want him to know all of me. Because when Clive looks in my eyes, it’s like he sees me as the best version of myself, and I want to be that woman for him.
So, as I dress for the day and slide lip-gloss on and pull my hair into a bun on the top of my head, I think about stopping by his office and letting him know I how I feel. Not all of it at once, of course. But I want him to know that for me, I see real potential between us.
After steering my cart from my guest house garage, I walk the block into the village square and then I park it without setting up the awning. First I want to stop in and tell Clive that next time he needs to leave a note.
Pushing open the door to Forest Expeditions, I see Charlie sipping from a cup of coffee.
“Hey Charlie,” I say. “Have you seen Clive?”
He sets down his coffee and shrugs. “No, it was weird, actually. He emailed me saying he was going on a solo trip this morning. I honestly thought he must be taking you somewhere.”
I frown. “Where did he go?”
“Not sure. You know Clive, he is a man of few words.”
I think back to our night, how open and vulnerable we were with one another. Sure, he may be standoffish around other people, but with me, his heart seemed wide open.
“Right. Well, okay then.” I feel deflated. Rejected. Alone. Those aren’t emotions I ever thought I’d feel when it came to Clive.
Charlie shakes his head. “Didn’t you leave Maggie’s party together?”
“Yeah, he stayed the night.”
Charlie’s eyes widen. “No shit.”
I twist my lips together. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Clive doesn’t do that. Ever. Not since Luke died.” He must sense my discomfort. “No, Hazel, it’s good. It’s great. He’s so damn reserved all the time, it’s just...”
“Just what?” I ask, my heart beating fast.
“It’s just... you know, him leaving right after... It’s a little...”
“Sketchy?” I say, swallowing my tears.
Charlie pats my arm. “No one is better in the woods than Clive. I mean, no one better than me, of course,” he says with a lopsided grin. “But he can take care of himself out there. You don’t need to worry.”
I thank him and ask him to tell me if he hears anything.
As I walk away, all I can think is that sure, Clive can take care of himself in the woods. I don’t doubt that.
But I want to help take care of him here.
And by the looks of things, he doesn’t feel the same way.
Chapter 9
I’ve done this trip a thousand times. Camped out at night, hiked to the top of Mount Ellen in day one. The hike is a beaut. There are fifteen pitches of exposed, often knife-edge 5.9 alpine climbing. It’s a gorgeous peak and earned a spot in the Fifty Classic Climbs of North America.
After that, I continue on into the Cascade Range, taking in the mountain air, crisp with lingering snow and ice, and the chill in the late summer air tells me the winter is gonna be rough. I sleep in my one-man tent, and then wake up and build a campfire, drinking dark coffee and eating oatmeal, trying my damnedest to forget Hazel.
Hazel, with her hand-stitched apron and her homemade everything. She isn’t just sweet—she has true grit. The kind of woman who could handle a man like me. Hell, she’s practically tamed me after only a few days.
That’s why I knew I needed to walk away. It is too dangerous to love like that. So completely.
Because when you lose that sort of love—life no longer holds any meaning. How could I wake up and face the day if I lost Hazel?
So, I am saving us both from ourselves.
I’m sure she woke up that morning, alone in her bed, angry as hell at me.
But in time, she will be better for it.
As I begin the climb of South Ridge, I know that navigating the serac wall several hundred feet to the right from its apex, over the north face will require some WI4 ice climbing. It’s my favorite part of this entire range. I need to summit this ridge in order to descend the north side, where the terrain is easier to traverse.
But instead of thinking about my fucking climb—I’m thinking about Hazel, wondering if she’d like to come up here with me someday. I should be forcing her from my mind, but instead, I’m imagining the bright sun shining on her face, how beautiful she’d look up her with a backdrop of white, snow-covered mountains.
And that’s when my feet slip once. Twice.
This is not going to work. I move as slowly as I can, attempting to get passed the unforgiving slope, but my body isn’t as small as it needs to be to pass this unscathed. I take a leap, knowing I’m stuck right here forever otherwise. There’s no wiggle room on this edge.
Shit. Shit. Motherfucking shit.
I fall.
Fucking hard.
The tumble is more than a drop.
It’s a goddamn crash.
I feel my satellite phone crunch beneath me, in my pack. My fucking lifeline was gone.
My body hits an icy patch, my head slams against a rock.
My eyes see vicious bright white lights.
Our one wild and precious life.
Black tunnels block my sight.
There is nothing.
Noth
ing.
I am gone.
Chapter 10
There are no guarantees to a happily ever after.
And maybe I was a fool to think I’d find mine the first week I moved to a new town.
But after Clive has been gone for five days, I’m not so foolish anymore.
I can be brave and strong.
I need a man who is here for me, one who doesn’t run and hide.
But then the rain starts falling.
Hard.
And I all by myself, I push my cart, the one I made by hand, nail by nail, stitch by stitch, under an awning, wishing that I didn’t just have my bootstraps to hold onto.
I’m tired of doing it all on my own.
Maggie and Greta run from their bakery, coming to help get my cart under cover, and I’m grateful that they are here and can help, but it is like pouring salt on a wound.
They have one another. They aren’t in any of this alone.
And they have Clive.
And me? I have nothing.
I have never been a pessimist; never thrown a pity-party even once in my life. But right now? Right now, I feel like, with one wrong word, I could become a puddle just like the ones filling the village square.
“Sweetie, it’s gonna be okay,” Greta says, patting my back as I wipe tears from my eyes. They think it’s just the cart, the rain—but it is so much more.
I was ready to give their brother everything.
All of me.
I already gave him my body but that isn’t all. I wanted to give him my heart. My soul. My forever.
I’m not crazy. I just fell in love with a man the first week we met.
I wipe my eyes, not wanting them to see me this way. Small and weak and alone.
“Why don’t you come to the bakery and get some coffee and a cinnamon roll,” Maggie says.
“Yeah,” Greta agrees. “The cart will be fine, it’s right outside our window.”
Knowing no one’s going to buy candy from an outdoor cart in this wet weather, I let them lead me inside.
A few minutes later, I’ve dried myself off with hand towels, and am sitting with a warm cup of coffee and a piping hot cinnamon roll.