The Beauty's Beast

by Eddie Cleveland

  I’ll admit it, I stand here longer than I should, and watching closer than someone with a passing interest would. I’m absorbed by him. Looking away doesn’t feel like a natural option.

  Thwack! His pile of split logs is growing on each side of his stump. It’s mesmerizing to watch him.

  There’s something about a man who works with his hands. A man who’s tough enough to protect you from anything, but gentle enough where a softer touch counts. There’s that heat again. Creeping up my cheeks and teasing the insides of my thighs.

  Outside, Sawyer looks back to the window and I practically fall to the floor in an attempt to hide. I don’t want him thinking that I’m staring at him. Just because that’s exactly what I’m doing, doesn’t mean he needs to know.

  I squint at the cabin and feel like the life is being drained from me. I should go help him, I nod at the thought, knowing full well it’s a lie. Help him. Fat chance of me being very useful with wood chopping.

  I don’t care, I’ll just keep him company then. That’s what every guy living off the grid and removed from society wants, right? Company. A friendly chat. Probably not, but it’s what he’s going to get.

  I tighten the drawstring on the flannel pants Sawyer loaned me. I untie the front of his shirt and just let it hang around me like a dress. As I slip into my coat, I notice the glint of my engagement ring on my finger. It feels like an anchor to a miserable life. A life that is already feeling less real by the minute. I slide the ring from my finger and into my coat pocket. Even when I get out of here, I’m not going back to Ben. I’ll give this back to him.

  My boots and hat are quickly slipped on and I wade through the heavy snow. I didn’t expect to be up to my pussy in snow. I guess that’s one way to cool down the flames of desire.

  I push through, maybe this wasn’t the best plan, but I don’t care. I close the gap between him and I and feel the color return. It’s like every step I take toward him brightens the entire landscape. This must be how people felt when all they watched their shows in black and white and then it switched to color.

  Sawyer raises his arms overhead and swings the ax down, cleanly splitting a log in two. He notices me approaching and slings the ax over his thick shoulder and tilts his head at me. “What are you doing out here? Everything ok?” He asks. As I get closer, I can see concern flashing in his eyes.

  “I came to help,” I pant. I’m starting to wonder if I’m going to need help pushing through all this snow. Spin class has got nothing on this cardio burn.

  “You know how to split wood?” He looks unconvinced. Wise man.

  “Well, not exactly,” I manage to make my way through and stand next to him. “But, I’m willing to learn, if you’ll teach me,” I look up at him and watch him size me up.

  “Ok,” he finally answers, “it’s not like it’s a big secret. I’ll show you how,” he agrees. “Come here,” he nods to the spot right in front of him.

  I stand between him and the stump, looking up at him and he laughs. “Not like that, like this,” he grabs hold of my hips and easily flips me on the spot so I’m facing the stump.

  You can flip me around the bed like that anytime.

  I suppress a giggle at the thought and start to cough a little.

  “You ok?”

  “Yeah, just breathed in a snowflake I think,” I smile, but I can’t see if he believes me or not. He probably doesn’t care.

  “Ok then, first thing you want to do is hold the ax low on the handle, that way you get more power,” he guides my hands to the position.

  I can feel his strong body behind mine, like a wall protecting me from the world. It feels amazing. I close my eyes and enjoy his bare hands on mine. I don’t even care about the snow falling on my face or how stupid I look in his pants, nothing matters right now except the buzz of excitement running up my arms and through my chest.

  “Good, so now you’re going to lift the ax up overhead, it’s a bit heavy, are you sure you want to do this?” For once, he isn’t mocking me. I can hear the genuine concern in his voice.

  “I’m stronger than I look,” I scoff.

  “If you say so,” he moves in closer and I can smell the fire smoke and cedar musk that I woke to yesterday morning. I clench my thighs together as I remember how his cock felt against my ass. I try to focus, but his words blur together.

  “Now swing it down,” he interrupts my moment. I fling the ax down as hard as I can, trying to follow his guidance. I miss the log entirely. Instead, the steel head digs into the stump and the log wobbles over and falls into the snow. I try to grab the ax and yank it back out, but it’s biting into the wood deeper than I thought and I lose my grip. I flail my arms in wide circles as I fall back into the snow beside the completely untouched log I was supposed to chop.

  “Smooth,” Sawyer laughs. “Hey, I have an idea, give me your phone and I’ll take a picture of this for you. I bet it’ll be a big hit with your online fans,” he laughs good-naturedly.

  “I’m good,” I laugh. “They can miss out on this one,” I try to roll over so I can push myself back up to my feet, but the deep snow has me rocking back and forth like a turtle on his shell.

  Sawyer laughs harder, I’d be annoyed if it didn’t make me so happy to hear him enjoy himself for once. “You know what? I thought it was a good time to take a break anyway.” He chuckles and cannonballs into the snow next to me. White powder billows up into a mushroom cloud above us. It seems appropriate given the nuclear level of heat growing between us.

  I giggle as he settles back in the snow with me.

  “I’ve gotta admit it, it makes a comfortable seat.” I nod at the snow.

  “Yeah, those must be hard to find with an ass like yours,” he muses. His eyes grow wide and his cheeks flush as he realizes the thought he just shared. “I mean, with your curves, not that I’ve been checking them out. Ugh,” he sputters, “I’m gonna shut up now,” he grimaces like his voice is physically painful to listen to.

  “It’s ok. I’m glad you noticed me,” I let my eyes travel over his body lacking all subtlety. Right now, I say, fuck being subtle.

  “So, the Catcher in the Rye is your favorite book?” He changes the subject.

  The distraction works, I can’t help the goofy grin overtaking my face. “It is,” I gush. “I love it. I bet I’ve read it a hundred times.”

  Sawyer looks at me closely. His face is a mixture of awe and cynicism. “Don’t get me wrong,” he chooses his words carefully, “but, you don’t exactly seem like a big believer in Holden Caulfield’s life philosophy,” he twists into the snow uncomfortably.

  “No,” I agree, “you aren’t wrong. I don’t agree even a little with his view on everyone being phony like that’s a bad thing. But let me guess,” I smile, “you’re a subscriber.”

  “Is it that obvious?” He teases me.

  “Yeah, the whole ‘hermit in the woods’ thing you’ve got going on is a dead giveaway,” I giggle like I’ve had too much to drink. I feel that way too. Like a drunk flush has overtaken my senses and I’m indulging in my euphoria.

  I lie back in the cold snow and enjoy the sensation against my skin. When is the last time I just enjoyed the outdoors? When is the last time I talked to someone about a book? I try not to let the thoughts rain on this moment with depression, instead revelling in the fact that I’m doing both now.

  “Ahhh, I thought I was more of a mysterious stranger than a hermit. I guess I’ll have to work on my brand,” for once his words don’t have any barbs. It’s refreshing to have a lighthearted conversation with him. I love that he can be self-deprecating instead of always exchanging insults.

  “I can see that. Mysterious stranger,” I repeat his preferred label. “Whatever it is, it doesn’t surprise me you’re a Holden Caulfield fan,” I muse.

  “So, what’s your take on the book then?” He pressures me.

  “Like what message do I get from it?” I flutter my eyelashes at him.

  “Yeah.”

>   “I think Holden is right, there’s a whole lot of fake people out in the world,” I explain.

  “Especially now,” Sawyer interrupts.

  “Maybe. But the thing I think most people don’t see is you need to be a bit of a fake to get by. Ever heard of ‘fake it till you make it?’” I think back on how I had to do just that. I had to change my life. And it worked.

  “That’s the exact opposite message you’re supposed to get from that novel,” he laughs.

  “That might be true,” I admit, “but guess what? Holden was the same holier-than-thou teenager who looked down on being phony so much that he ended up writing his book from a mental institution.” I throw out some facts most lovers of the book want to ignore. “Maybe if he would’ve learned to play nice, he would’ve had a happier life,” I counter.

  “Fair enough,” the glint in Sawyer’s eyes tells me he doesn’t believe a word coming out of my mouth. But I know better. “Here, let me give you a hand,” he stands up and towers over me, holding out his palm. I surrender and reach up, grabbing him as he plucks me out of the snow like a feather.

  I fall forward against his chest and his deep chuckle fades as he looks down at me. I look at his lips, begging them to kiss me without saying a word. My heart beats faster and blood rushes in my ears as he leans over, closer. He inches toward me and I close my eyes, ready to feel his lips on mine.

  Sawyer holds me tight with one arm and twists to the side, yanking the ax out of the stump with his free hand. So much for a kiss, he was just trying to retrieve his tool. I blink with surprise, but don’t say a word.

  “Don’t worry, we’ve got enough cut up here to get through the rest of today,” he reassures me softly, slinging the ax over his shoulder.

  “Oh, good,” I manage to say.

  “We should get back inside, it’s getting bad out here again,” he nods over my head at the increasing snowfall.

  To be honest, I hadn’t noticed. Nor, do I care. However, I’m not going to tell him that.

  “Sure,” I agree, stepping back from his embrace. I grab some wood that he cut and pile it onto my arms. “I’ll help you bring this in then,” I stack it against my forearm.

  “I don’t know how much more help I can take,” he laughs.

  I stick my tongue out at him and scrunch up my nose.

  “There you go, the perfect profile picture,” he teases me.

  “Whatever,” I roll my eyes, but I don’t really mind. As we walk back to the cabin, I realize that I haven’t even checked my phone for a signal yet today. I guess I’ve been too busy living in the moment to think about it. Not to mention the giant, hot distraction I’m following back inside.

  I’ve never been around anyone who could make me forget about my Instagram account for… well, ever. As I try to hop into each of Sawyer’s wide footsteps, I realize that I’m happy he’s distracted me from the online world today. I’m enjoying the distraction. I’m enjoying his company. I look up at the fat snowflakes tumbling down from the sky and realize that I’m even enjoying being trapped in this terrible weather with him.

  12

  Sawyer

  I open the door and let Ashley pass through first, watching as she walks over to the side of the fireplace and dumps her armful of wood on the floor. I kick my boots on the side of the cabin and follow her through the door. She’s already removing her coat and hat, transforming from the wounded bear cub I thought I saw a couple of nights ago into a sexy woman. I can’t help but smirk when I see my plaid shirt hanging on her like a sheet. I thought she had been tying it up at the waist as some kind of shallow fashion thing, not out of necessity. I let my eyes slowly travel down over her small frame, she can’t be more than five foot four. The hem of my shirt is almost touching her knees.

  Ashley doesn’t move, she looks at me like she’s waiting for something. Waiting for me to talk to her, to hold her, to kiss her.

  That’s what she wanted. I could feel it when I held her outside. She felt so perfect in my arms, and I saw her puckered up, pink lips transform into downturned disappointment.

  Trust me, no one was more disappointed than me.

  I haven’t been with a woman in over four years. In my early twenties, I thought little of settling down. Not when there were so many beautiful young ladies that came into the family restaurant every night. My parents had a strict rule: stay away from the girls that were on staff. Any other women who decided to enjoy some haute Italian cuisine and maybe wanted to sample the young aspiring chef for dessert, were all fair game. It certainly felt like a game.

  I close my eyes and the vivid colors of the family restaurant come alive in my mind. I can almost smell the young garlic chives and basil we had growing by the window. I was never one to hunt for one night stands, my preference was to enjoy a woman, date her, and savor her. However, they happened. My father would smile and toss his arm around my shoulder with pride. “Now is the time to be young, have fun!” He’d boom in his deep baritone. “That’s how you’ll bring us home the prettiest daughter-in-law. You have to experience life and then you’ll know what to look for in love. That’s how I met your mother!”

  My mother preferred to see me as less of a player, she used to call me ‘little Romeo.’ My older brother was ‘big Romeo’ and already engaged to a girl my parents were crazy about.

  It was a great life, a great family, and now it’s a tremendous hole in my heart that has never healed.

  I tuck away the memory, determined to bury it far from my emotions. I’ve spilled the tears, I’ve exploded with the rage, and I’ve aimlessly reeled with the loss. Now isn’t the time to relive it all. Just the good parts.

  I focus on Ashley, bent over at the waist as she piles the split logs into some kind of order under the window. In my mind, I walk over to her, slide my fingers under the waist of the pants I lent her, and ease them down over her large bottom before dropping to my knees and eating her pussy from behind, while she stays exactly how she’s standing now.

  It’s a welcome distraction from the hauntings of my past. However, my throbbing cock and wild thoughts come with their own problems. Outside, she wanted me to kiss her. I wanted it too, but if I did, I’m not sure I could trust myself to stop at a kiss. I’m a man of restraint. There’s no way you can live off the grid for as long as I have without self-discipline, but I’d be a fucking liar if I said I trust myself to show any with her.

  She might have wanted a simple kiss, but once the lid is cracked on Pandora’s Box, there’s no telling what will happen.

  “Here, let me help you with that,” I offer, realizing that I’m still rooted to the same spot. I walk beside her and add the wood I’ve been carrying to her modest pile. Bump is more like it. Still, it’s nice that she’s actually helping out now instead of being a prissy little princess.

  “Thanks,” she smiles up at me and her beauty knocks the air out of my lungs. I hated how she looked with all that makeup on before. It’s worn away now, leaving her natural rosy hue shining through on her cheeks. Instead of the severe, blood red lipstick she had painted on a couple of nights ago, now her full lips are a sweet shade of pink.

  “No problem,” my voice comes out gravelly and I clear my throat.

  “Ugh,” Ashley crinkles her nose and looks down at her hands. “I’m so dirty,” she sounds as though the tiny flecks of broken bark covering her hands are actually making her sad.

  So much for her being over the prissy princess thing.

  “You’re not dirty, it brushes right off,” I grab her hands and rub mine over them, removing the debris.

  She looks up at me, her wide, blue eyes locking on mine. “It’s not just that. It’s just, I’m used to taking a shower every day and baby wipes just aren’t the same. I’m starting to feel gross.” Her eyes flash as if she just had an epiphany and she quickly looks down at the floor, “You probably think I’m disgusting,” she whispers, as if she’s finally understanding the reason I haven’t kissed her.

  “Listen to
me,” I grab her chin between my finger and thumb and pull her face back up to meet mine, “you couldn’t be more wrong if you tried.” I try to conceal the anger tinging my voice. The fire that’s boiling up from my belly because somewhere, somehow, some piece of shit made this girl feel like she wasn’t enough. “I hated all that crap you had on your face before. You’re beautiful without it. More beautiful,” I stress. “Your hair looks better down and wild. And, yeah, I didn’t mind the bikini on you, but you still look just as good in my clothes.”

  Her lips curve up into a smile and the storm in her eyes begins to subside. “Thank you,” she murmurs.

  “Don’t thank me for telling you the truth. For saving your life, sure. For cooking your supper, of course. But not for telling you what you should’ve known all along. What any supposed man in your life should have been making you feel every fucking day.” I hover over her; my lips are only a few inches from hers. Ashley’s chest is rising and falling quickly. I close the space between us and lean into her, kissing her soft lips hungrily. I run my hand up her back and let my fingers explore her long hair as my tongue finds hers. Ashley kisses me back like she’s been aching for this. We’re intertwined in each other like a couple of lost soulmates, reunited after decades apart.

  My cock grows hard against my zipper, painfully reminding me that if I don’t put some space between us, I’m going to tear my clothes off her body and fill her pussy as I fuck her against every surface in this place.

  I drop my hand from her hair and step back. Ashley looks up at me, her eyes hooded with desire. I don’t know if she understands what she’s trying to unleash. I don’t think she’s ready.

  “I should get back to work,” I murmur without moving an inch from her.

  “Please,” her voice is ragged with desire. Her pupils are dilated like she just got high. Who knows, maybe she is. I feel like I might be after that kiss.

  “Don’t go. I need you.”

  Fuck self-discipline.