by Zoe Chant
"Okay?" he asked, breaking away from the kiss. "You aren't hurt, are you?"
She shook her head and wrapped her legs around his waist; her arms were wound around his shoulders. He was achingly hard. "No, it's just ... you're so strong."
Hunter swiveled around, holding her tight; her hair swung out behind her. Felicity gasped again, gripping him tighter.
"I'll show you how strong I can be," he growled into her neck. "Where do you want it? The bed? By the fire?"
"Oh!" she gasped. "How about ... the fire?"
Hunter freed a hand from her generous ass—she clutched him even more tightly, but he could easily support her soft, pliant weight with just one arm—and swiped the deerskin robe off the bed. He crossed the room in a few careful strides and laid it in front of the fire. There were already a couple of other furs there; it was one of his favorite places for lounging around. Then he laid Felicity on the furs. She went willingly, lying back in the firelight. For a moment all he could do was stare at the amazing picture she made: naked and beautiful, bathed in firelight, her smooth limbs framed in tawny deerskin.
Then Felicity said, "Are you just going to stand there looking at me?" and Hunter hastily began wrestling with the button of his jeans.
5. Felicity
It was like something from a movie, Felicity thought—or from a dream: Hunter laying her out on a bed of furs in front of the fire. She was still chilly, but the fire's heat bathed her, warming her from head to foot. The thick furs underneath her caressed her skin with a thousand little prickles of sensation, all across her back and shoulders and hips.
Hunter had been gorgeous with his clothes on, but without them he was mesmerizing, muscular and golden in the firelight, dusted lightly with soft fuzzy hair in all the right places.
And the best part was knowing that the way he was looking at her—the open lust and adoration in his eyes, and the burgeoning erection springing from a nest of light brown curls—was all for her.
He had been gentle and cautious earlier, but now he took charge, and Felicity fell into his touch. He cupped and caressed her full breasts, ran his hands down the lush spread of her hips. She was ready, wet and waiting, rising to meet his body with hers. Nothing had every felt this good. Every nerve ending was on fire, every sensation heightened until merely the brush of his breath against her neck made her quiver.
Hunter gently nipped at her neck, biting a sharp, sparking trail of desire from her throat to her breasts, and took her nipple into his mouth. His tongue played with it while his other hand rubbed her other nipple to a state of erect hardness. He was fully erect himself, pressing against her thigh.
Felicity wanted it to last forever and yet she wanted it now, needed it now. She spread her legs apart, wordlessly conveying her need.
Hunter raised up on his knees, looking down at her, his eyes dark with arousal. Felicity could feel the frenzy of her hawk, its wings beating frantically behind her breastbone as it cried out with the urge to be taken, to be possessed.
She reached up to caress his broad chest, feeling the firmness of toned muscle, then wrapped her arms around his sides and drew him down to her.
Her anticipation grew to a crescendo as Hunter finally pushed his hard length into her waiting heat. Felicity threw her head back. Sensation consumed her. Hunter filled her, buried the length of his shaft in her. Every stroke was a burst of heat spreading through her limbs, tingling from head to foot. Their bodies moved together; she thrust back, meeting him stroke for stroke. Hunter bowed his head to nip at her neck, and Felicity cried out softly, a cry drawn from her hawk as much as from her.
Rippling waves of pleasure mounted in her, built to fevered heights, and then orgasm shuddered through her. Hunter's body arched over her and he gave a great cry, almost a roar, voicing his own ecstasy as her reaction to her pleasure sent him over the edge too. They rode it out together, until finally they came down in a slow ebbing descent, relaxing onto the fire-warmed furs, side by side.
"I hope you know," Felicity murmured at last, when she could pull a coherent thought together, "that I may never move again."
"Good?" Hunter asked softly, giving her shoulder a light nibble.
"Nnnghhh."
He got up to retrieve a blanket from the bed. Felicity stayed where she was, though she bestirred herself enough to roll over and expose her backside to the fire's heat. She would have to recommend this particular hypothermia cure—she felt warm through and through. Ten out of ten, she thought sleepily. Definitely a success.
Hunter draped a blanket over her and then snuggled under it himself, curling up against her on the furs.
"Well?" Felicity asked sleepily. "Did you see any?"
"Huh?" Hunter murmured, rousing slightly.
"Bruises," she said, grinning. "Oh, weren't you looking?"
Hunter snorted and, under the blanket, gave her a light pat on her naked ass. Felicity giggled and burrowed more closely against him as sleep came to claim her.
***
It was an incredible weekend. The only time the entire weekend that either one of them put on clothes was when Hunter had to go outside and get more wood for the fire.
Of course, Felicity had no clothes to put on, except an old shirt of his, worn soft with washings, that she wore if she felt chilly.
But, for the most part, "chilly" wasn't a problem. They lounged around in his big bed, and he told her about his life in the woods. He loved studying animal behavior, and knew the names of all the different kinds of birds that came to the bird feeders around his yard.
Felicity, in turn, told him about her life in the city, making him laugh with her stories of demanding clients and fabric shipments gone wrong.
And they made love all over the cabin, everywhere, in every position. He took her on the table; he licked her to heights of rapture while she sprawled in the chair; they even tried making love on the porch in the sunshine (but ended up finishing inside—it was simply too chilly yet). She'd never realized it was possible to have this much sex in one weekend. No, check that: this much glorious, amazing sex.
And then she woke early, snuggled against Hunter, as the cabin filled with the gray light of dawn, and thought, Oh my God, it's Monday morning.
She pulled herself carefully out of bed. Hunter didn't wake. Felicity looked down at him, sleeping soundly, curled around the warm place where she'd been. She couldn't just leave without saying goodbye, could she? That felt awful.
But she didn't want a scene. She didn't want him to beg her to stay, and God knew she didn't want to descend to begging him to come back to the city with her. She'd known from the beginning that this wasn't permanent. He was where he needed to be, and now she needed to go back to where she needed to be.
Moving quietly so as not to wake him, she looked around until she found a pad of paper and a pencil. Carefully she scribbled a short note:
Dear Hunter,
Thank you again for saving my life. This has been the most wonderful weekend I've ever had. I'm so sorry it's over. But my business needs me, and I know you have to stay here in the woods, where you're happy. And I need to get back to the city, where I'm happy.
If you would like to call or email me, I'd love that. I know you don't have a phone here, but my number is 555-6090, and my email is [email protected]. I would really like to hear from you, and if you're ever in the Minneapolis area, please call me and I can show you some of the pleasures of the city.
She started to write Love, Felicity, then balked at it, and just signed her name with a little flourish.
Hunter was still asleep, breathing slowly and deeply. Felicity placed the note on the table, weighed down with a book, and opened the cabin door very quietly before she could change her mind.
The morning was fresh and chilly, the sun just cresting the trees. All the ice had melted away, and it truly felt like spring now, the storm no more than a distant memory.
With the sun to navigate by, she was pretty sure she knew which way to fly
to get back to her car. She was going to be late regardless, but it wouldn't be the first time she'd been late getting back from a "hiking" trip; Melinda was used to it.
Felicity stretched her arms to the sky and shifted.
It felt wonderful to have the wind under her wings again. She caught an updraft and soared upward in a great, slow spiral. Below her, the cabin and its woodshed dwindled to the size of toys. There was a part of her that wished Hunter would come out onto the porch to wave goodbye, and she did a few extra circles above the cabin just in case he might. Then she told herself she was being silly. It was best to make a clean break. Maybe, hopefully, she would hear from him again; if not, this would be a wonderful memory, a weekend of passion in the wilderness.
She'd known all along that it was probably never going to be more than that.
And yet, as she flew away, she felt as if she was struggling against a bond that wanted to draw her back. It stretched, longer and longer, thinner and thinner, but never seemed to break.
6. Hunter
Hunter woke when the morning sunshine came through the cabin window. He stirred and stretched, eyes still closed. Felicity was no longer in the bed, though her side—and how had it happened so quickly that one side of the bed had become her side?—was still slightly warm. She must have gotten up to make breakfast. Yesterday, he'd been careful to rise first so he could bring her breakfast in bed. It was only eggs and bacon and toast, nothing special, but he saw all over again her look of delight when he did it. She'd told him it was the best breakfast she'd ever had.
But he didn't smell anything cooking, and she must not have stirred up the fire, because the cabin was still chilly.
And he didn't smell her anywhere ...
Hunter's eyes snapped open and he sat up. The cabin was, indeed, empty.
"Felicity?"
He scrambled out of bed, telling himself as he did so that maybe she'd just stepped outside to go for a short flight. Bird shifters were like that, he'd heard; they were happiest when they could fly a lot. He'd kept her inside all weekend, not meaning to, but the weather had been terrible and inside the cabin had been ... well ... it wasn't like they'd had any trouble keeping busy. But maybe she had needed to go for a flight.
Then he saw the note on the table, neatly folded, weighed with a book.
Hunter approached the note as if it was a live explosive. His heart sank straight down to his feet, all his happiness from this wonderful weekend gone in an instant. This was exactly how it had happened with Christine, except without even a note. She'd never told him what he was doing wrong. She just held onto her unhappiness, grew angrier and more miserable for reasons he couldn't understand, and then left him without a word.
Felicity's not like that!
Except ... she was gone, and the cabin was cold, and apparently Felicity was like that.
A great, tearing misery and anger rose in him. Hunter turned on his heel and flung the cabin door open. He stomped out into the yard, not even caring that he was naked. It wasn't like there was anyone around to see him. He tipped his head back to the sky and roared out all of his pain and rage and hurt.
When he'd gotten it out of his system, the bear within him once again lying quiescent in its misery, he became aware that he was shivering in the morning breeze and went back into the cabin. He dressed by rote muscle-memory, not caring what he put on, and then stirred up the fire and put on the leftovers of last night's coffee to reheat. This drew his attention to the fact that there were two coffee cups instead of just one. Everything, it seemed, was going to be a reminder of Felicity for a little while.
Couldn't she just fall on someone else's roof? Why me?
Feeling a little better with a cup of coffee in hand, he sat down at the table and lifted the book off her note. He was going to have to read it sooner or later. May as well find out what she had to say for herself.
He read it once, quickly, then again, more slowly. His coffee cooled on the table while he read it over, very carefully, a third and fourth time.
This didn't sound like goodbye.
He'd forgotten completely that she had a business in Minneapolis she had to take care of. Although he still wasn't too happy about the way she'd just flown off without saying goodbye. But of course she had to get back to her business. And after that ...
After that, he wasn't sure. This weekend he'd managed to successfully avoid thinking about ... well, anything, really, except for Felicity and her luscious charms. But she had a life back in Minneapolis. For his own part, he couldn't imagine living there.
First things first, he told himself. Since the woman you love just went off to a city miles and miles away, you need to get a phone.
There was only one place around here to do that, so after a fast breakfast Hunter jolted down the rutted road in his truck, headed for Falls Creek.
The storm had blown through, blowing the last of winter out with it. The air was warm and mild, fragrant with the scent of a thousand kinds of green growing things. Hunter left the truck windows rolled down to enjoy it.
This place had put him back together, after the breakup with Christine. The solitude of the cabin and the friendship of his welcoming but undemanding neighbors had begun to heal the hole in his heart. He had no bad memories here. This was his safe place.
But now ...
If Felicity asked you to follow her to Minneapolis, would you do it?
Hunter shook his head. He didn't know.
The narrow road wound past several neighbors' driveways, becoming eventually smoother and straighter, until it met the gravel road that ran into town. He hadn't encountered a single car on the dirt road from the cabin, but now he passed a few. Each and every one of them was driven by someone he knew. Hunter lifted a hand off the steering wheel in acknowledgment; they gave little waves in return.
Near the edge of town, he passed Mrs. Muntz walking her dogs. She raised Great Danes, and had three of them on leashes. He slowed the truck to a crawl as he went by her, so as not to spray her with gravel and leave her in the cloud of dust he was raising on the road. She waved to him and called out a cheerful hello. He smiled and gave her a wave back.
He couldn't possibly leave here ... could he?
Falls Creek was the sort of place that someone like Felicity, who hailed from the city, probably wouldn't even have called a town. There were a handful of businesses clustered along the road where it crossed the state highway, just before a bridge across the creek that gave the town its name. Hunter drove past one of the two churches in town—there was one on each end of town, the Lutherans on one side and the Baptists on the other. Anyone else had to go to the next town over.
The Falls Creek Pub was still closed, but the Creekside Diner seemed to be doing a brisk business. Just past the diner was his destination, Murray Bartos's hardware and electronics store.
It was always a bit of a crapshoot whether Murray would be open or not, or whether he'd actually be in the store even if the open sign was hung out. Today, though, the store was both officially open and Murray was restocking shelves. He was also chatting with Jake Hanshaw, owner of the Falls Creek Pub and also one of the other bear shifters in town. Hunter almost walked out right then—Jake was a friend, which made it unlikely that Hunter could manage to get through this conversation without having to answer awkward questions. Unfortunately he'd already been seen. The tinkling bell over the door made a stealthy entrance or exit impossible.
"Mornin', Hunter," Jake said. Like most bear shifters, he was a big guy; he filled one aisle as he lounged on the customer side of the counter.
Murray glanced up from refilling a display of screwdrivers. Long-haired and a lot more tech-savvy than most people in town, he'd drifted in a few years ago to work construction, and never quite drifted out again. Since the old man who owned the hardware store was retiring, Murray had ended up taking it over, and in the process had updated its wares considerably.
He gave Hunter a little wave. "Hey, dude. Don't usually see you
in town this early, unless you blaze through at six in the morning on the way to a job site."
"Had some business to get done," Hunter said. "I want to buy a cell phone."
Jake snorted. "You finally get over your allergy of 'em? What happened?"
"Can't a man buy a phone without being given the third degree?"
"Sure," Murray said, "if the man doesn't have a history of telling everybody he hates those damned noisy contraptions and wouldn't have a phone if you paid him."
Jake slapped Hunter on the shoulder. "Aww, don't take it hard, buddy. Nice to see you've decided to join the rest of us in the twenty-first century."
"And it's lucky for you they just built that new cell tower over on Eagle Mountain," Murray said, "or you'd never get reception out at your place. Here, let Uncle Murray set you up." He bustled around behind the counter. "Let me guess, you want a basic flip phone, nothing fancy, nothing special."
"Actually," Hunter said, thinking of Felicity's note and her email address, "I'd like to get one of the kind you can email people with. You can do that with a phone, right?"
Jake burst into laughter. "This is gonna be one for the boys down at the pub. Hunter Holt, not just buying a phone, but a smartphone. You sure it's not April first, Murray?"
Murray turned from the cheap rack of flip phones to the more expensive ones. "Don't cost me a sale here. Hunter, just take a look at these babies, and tell me which one floats your boat."
Murray continued to grill him all through the process of picking out a phone and setting him up with a monthly plan; Hunter continued to dodge any questions of a personal nature. Jake had gone quiet, rather than continuing with the expected teasing. He browsed through the power tools, clearly listening with one ear while Hunter suffered through the process of getting his calling plan set up.
"It's a woman, ain't it," Murray said. "No, to back out of that screen you tap that button. Haven't you ever used a smartphone at all? Or a computer? Or anything?"