Mountain Man's Virgin

by Jay S. Wilder

  It’d be so hot if he asks me to stay…

  5

  Savage

  A familiar knock on my front door a few hours later pulls my attention away from my routine around this time. My shoulders are quick to tense up, and my chest tightens at the thought of an uninvited guest showing up. Especially now while I’m busy with my weekend routine. Every Saturday afternoon, I make a large pot of stew from whatever meat I trapped or hunted in the morning. I package up the food into smaller bowls for my lunches at the mine during the week. Eating out is something else I haven’t done for years. The only exception is when Ben sometimes cooks on his grill when he’s up at his cabin. He doesn’t take no for an answer, but I know he means well. That’s the reason I indulge him. Plus, he does a mean bar-b-q ribeye steak. Can’t say no to that.

  Turning down the stove, I set down my mixing spoon and head to the door.

  “You didn’t need to make me a plate, B—” I start to say as I pull the door open, but stop speaking when I realize it’s not Ben at my door at all.

  It’s her.

  Ben’s daughter, Jane.

  My jaw tightens, and I freeze. One hand is on the door, and my body is in the half-open doorway. My gaze runs down her body then back up to her eyes, and my dick is instantly hard as granite. She’s standing a couple of feet from my front door, looking nervous. She licks her lips and glances away as my gaze returns downward to the cleavage of the yellow sleeveless summer dress. The sun is low behind her in the distance, making her curves visible through the thin fabric. Her white sandals show off her dainty toenails with pink polish on them. She’s so out of place here. I wonder how she climbed up this steep incline from their cabin to mine in those shoes, and holding onto the dinner plate for me, all without falling or getting her dress dirty.

  I glance at the large ceramic plate in her hands, covered with aluminum foil. It’s a familiar sight, except it’s usually in Ben’s hands when he shows up after spending time in front of his outdoor grill.

  “Hi… sorry,” she tells me. “I know you weren’t expecting me.”

  “It’s fine,” I say, my eyes darting from the plate to her face. I hold my ground at the door, waiting, looking down into her face. She’s so tiny. Can’t be more than five and a half feet, the way my body eclipses her tiny frame.

  “How are you?” she asks, seeming to force the words out because of how nervous she looks.

  “Okay.”

  “My dad wanted you to have this food from the grill,” she tells me, lifting the plate toward me slightly, and her eyes swoop down, stopping at my chest, then down below my waist and finally back up to my face without reaching my eyes.

  My head tilts to one side. I can’t figure this girl out. I fucking hope she’s over eighteen.

  “He was going to bring it up to you himself, but I wanted to help out.”

  “Thanks.” With a nod, I reach an arm out to take the plate. My fingers accidentally brush against her wrist and forearm. Fuck, her skin’s so smooth, so tender and soft, a reminder of how long it’s been that I’ve felt the touch of a woman.

  Jane surprises me then and tightens her grip on the plate. “It’s okay. Can I come in?” she asks, but breezes by me and steps inside before I can answer. “I’ll just set this down in your kitchen. Can I heat it up for you?”

  I turn and follow her as she moves to the middle of my living area. “No. I’ll take care of it.”

  She strolls through the living room, thoroughly at home in my place. “I really don’t mind,” she offers at the kitchen doorway and keeps going once she catches sight of my pot on the stove. “Oh, you’re already in the middle of cooking something else. Wow, it smells really good. What is it? Some kind of stew?”

  “Yeah,” I answer, taking the dish from her hands.

  Turning from her, I dart to the kitchen. I keep my back to her as I set down the food on the counter beside me. My back muscles tense, sensing her presence behind me. Does she have any idea what she’s doing to me by just being here? Her sweet, feminine scent fills the space, her bright, cheery clothes light up the room, and those piercing hazel eyes looking up at me, it’s enough to drive me to do something I know I’ll regret.

  “Tell your father thanks for me,” I say, stepping toward her. I hope she takes the hint and leaves right away.

  She takes a few steps backward. “I will.” Instead of backing into the living room, she leans against the wall beside the doorway. “How come I haven’t seen you in town before? Do you live in your cabin year-round? Isn’t it really cold up here in the winter? I’m so glad the weather’s gotten nice and warm up here. Half of the clothes I brought with me are for hotter days. Like this dress.”

  One question or comment follows the other, but I can tell she’s asking only to fill the silence and to mask some of her nervousness. I wish she would stop talking about the heat, about that dress my hands are itching to rip off of her body even though I’m wrong for thinking like that.

  “It’s nice, that dress.” I press my lips into a tight line and my jaw ticks after I hear the words that passed through my lips without my thinking first. What the fuck is wrong with me, complimenting this girl? She could be underage, and she’s Ben’s daughter, for fuck’s sake. I turn in time to see the modest smile on her face from what I just said.

  “Thanks,” she answers in a softer tone.

  I turn to face her and find myself taking another few steps in her direction. She’s basically blocked herself in. Not that I’m helping. But whatever the chemistry is between us, I can’t resist it forever. “You should go,” I say. “Before it gets dark.”

  “Our cabins aren’t too far apart. I’m sure I’ll be fine. Don’t you feel like some company? I think my parents need some alone time. I won’t get in your way or anything,” she proposes the last part in a whisper, but her being here has already sent me off kilter.

  “No,” I mutter, yet I don’t force myself to stop when one hand rests on the wall near her head. I lean my body weight forward, so close, crowding her but not quite touching her.

  “You have the most interesting eyes I’ve ever seen,” she breathes out. It’s innocent enough, but fuck if it doesn’t go straight to my balls. “Has anyone ever told you that?”

  I meet her eyes again. “You shouldn’t be here.”

  She shifts her weight from one foot to another and her body tilts forward from the hips. When she lifts a hand to tuck some hair behind her ear, her palm grazes my arm pressed onto the wall. That slight touch is like a bolt of lightning on my skin, making me harder than granite.

  Fuck. This woman, this girl, she’s off limits.

  Off limits and forbidden.

  I need that detail to sink in and fast.

  I don’t know if it’s intentional, but her motion is enough for her breasts and pelvis to make contact, her small frame tiny against my broad, muscular size.

  “Are you asking me to leave?” she whispers out the question. She nibbles on one side of her bottom lip, her big hazel-brown eyes staring timidly up at me. We’re so close that I can see her pupils dilate, and the pale green and gold flecks of color in her iris seem to shimmer as I keep looking. “Is that what you want?”

  I don’t answer. Of course I don’t want her to go, but she should leave right fucking now. Her scent, the heat of her tiny, curvy, soft body, that voice, they’re all I can think about. I picture her on top of me again, her body soft against my hard lines, her hands on my chest as she grinds against my dick until I make her come. If she doesn’t get out of here soon, I’ll lose every fucking ounce of control that I’m holding onto.

  Jane doesn’t leave. She doesn’t move an inch. My other hand reaches up to her hair and slides through the locks hanging in front on her shoulder, winding some around my index finger. Her confident questions, her bold words, they don’t make it to the part of my brain that can process them or respond. It’s too late for that. I can’t think of anything but how good she feels against me. Then her hands wrap ar
ound my waist, and she tilts her chin up, those full, pouty lips just inches from mine.

  I don’t know who closes the distance first, me or her, but when our lips almost touch and her curves rub against my hardness some more, I know I’m about to make the biggest mistake of my life. I’m sure it’s game over for us both.

  Somewhere deep in the pit of my chest, I find the willpower to pull away.

  This can’t happen.

  “Go. Now.”

  “I will in a minute,” she persists, her voice more confident, firm as she straightens up from her spot against the wall. “That steak won’t keep very well. Best if you have it tonight.” She slips past me and goes over to the plate. “I’ll warm it up and then I’ll leave, okay?”

  I don’t reply, but I also don’t discourage her from continuing either. The woman is stubborn. I turn and sit at my kitchen table, watching her as she takes over my kitchen.

  “The pots are in the next one over,” I say when she opens one of the lower cabinets.

  “Great,” she answers.

  Within a few minutes, she has warmed up the steaks and re-plated the food neatly in one of my enamel dinner dishes.

  “Okay it’s all ready,” she chirps, cheerful again. She flits through my cupboards and puts out a place setting in front of me, complete with cutlery and a paper napkin that she folded into a triangle.

  “Thanks,” I say.

  She sets the plate down in front of me. “I hope you like it. I’m sure you will. Dinner was amazing tonight, with Mom’s garlic potatoes and Dad’s steak. The veggies are awesome too.”

  I nod, letting her ramble on. She said she’d leave once the food is ready, but instead of going, she takes a seat opposite me at the table, watching, waiting.

  For me to do what exactly?

  Eat?

  Thank her again?

  Ask her to get the hell out?

  Jane juts out her chin at the plate. “Go on. Taste it. Tell me what you think.”

  I feel all kinds of awkward with her staring like this. Still, if finishing my plate is what it’ll take for her to scoot, so be it.

  Looking at the plate, I scoop up the fork and knife, cut into one of the large steaks, and I eat.

  “It’s good, right?” she asks.

  My mouth is full with the big forkfuls of food that I feed myself, but I nod to her question without saying a word.

  “Can I get you a drink? I should’ve brought over some beers. Dad brought up a few cases. Do you want me to grab a few? I don’t m—”

  “No,” I tell her, and set down my steak knife, covering her hand with mine as she starts to push the chair back to leave for the beers. “I have my own beers in the fridge.”

  Her eyes dart down to my hand on hers. “Okay, I’ll grab—”

  “No,” I repeat without letting go of her hand. “I’ll get my own beer when I’m ready. You don’t need to do all this for me.”

  “I really don’t m—”

  “No,” I say and it comes out in a rough, rude bark as I cut off her words. I didn’t mean for it to come out so strongly, but the air is electric, sparking everywhere with the intense sexual energy between us. If she moves another inch and doesn’t leave right now, she’ll be the one I’m eating.

  Right here on this table.

  Straight to the core.

  I drag my chair backward, ignoring the loud sounds of the legs scraping the wooden floor. Getting to my feet, I start walking to the front door.

  “Where are you going?” she asks, following a few paces behind me.

  “Nowhere. But you need to get home. Right now.” I pull the door open and step aside.

  She looks up at me through her thick, dark lashes, studying my face. Then her back stiffens and she nods. “Fine. Sorry I bothered you.”

  I avoid her stare and the tinge of anger in her voice. She storms past me, and I’m relieved to have her finally leave, but only a bit. I stand at the door and watch as she walks away, her small figure fading more and more into the darkness with every step. A part of me wishes she was just as stubborn about staying as she was about setting out the meal for me.

  But I fucking know better.

  Making her leave is for the best.

  Letting her stay would have been one giant mistake.

  6

  Jane

  “Lemonade sounds great thanks,” I say to my best friend Meg at her cabin the next day.

  Meg gets up from the porch swing we’re both sitting on in her backyard. “Coming right up,” she says, and casually saunters toward the back door of the cabin.

  As she disappears inside, I slump into the chair, remembering what happened last night. I bite back the anger rising up my chest and try to smile, but it’s no use.

  I’m so mad.

  And ashamed.

  I shut my eyes and rub my temples, frustrated. I know I was forward with Savage. It’s the only time I’ve ever made an advance on anyone, but that’s the whole point. No one has ever caught my eye the way he has. I’m really, really intrigued by him, and our attraction is off the charts. But did he have to be so cold when he pushed me away? There were a thousand other things he could have said to suggest that I go, yet he chose to be rude, cold-hearted and so closed off.

  “When are you going to tell me what’s really going on?”

  I open my eyes and the first thing I see is the glass tumbler of lemonade in Meg’s hand. Then I look up. I was so distracted by that grumpy asshole Savage that I didn’t notice Meg coming back from inside. Since I got to her house, I’ve been doing my best to hold it together, to keep my interest in Savage under wraps.

  It’s not that I don’t trust Meg.

  The problem is her mouth.

  She has no filter and she’s not afraid of anyone. She’s also fierce in defending her friends. If I tell her what’s been going on—or not going on—I wouldn’t put it past her to march up to Savage and tell him off.

  And not in a nice way.

  “Well?” she asks again.

  “What?” I take the lemonade and have a sip, trying to play dumb, though looking at the way I’m slumped in this swing, looking dejected, I can’t try to come off as though nothing’s wrong. She’s my best friend. She’s known me since forever and can read me like a romance novel.

  “Seriously?” She huffs out a breath and sits beside me, setting off the motion of the swing as she turns her upper body to face me. “You can’t fool me. Start talking, and give it to me straight.”

  I can almost feel her eyes boring a hole in the side of my face, so I turn to look at her. “It’s nothing, really.”

  “Yeah. Right. Keep going. Does it have to do with your summer job?”

  “No…kinda…” I shrug my shoulders. “Maybe a little.”

  She folds her arms and her lips form a tight line. “What? Did that sleezy guy in your office go all Clarence Thomas on your ass?”

  “No, nothing happened at work,” I say, shaking my head, but she looks at me funny. “No, really…okay it is sort of work-related, but not the way you think.”

  “All right, so it’s not the way I think. Set me straight, then. I’ve been stuck up here all week with no texts, no social media, no TV. And don’t even talk about the radio. All we pick up around here is eighties classic rock and bluegrass music.” She opens her mouth and air motions the gag reflex with her thumb to show her dislike of both music genres. “This seclusion crap isn’t for me. I’m lonely as fuck and dying for some human connection…like from you, bestie. C’mon, give me something juicy.”

  It’s true. I’ve been a bit lonelier this past week. We barely spoke the week before she and her parents headed up here too. I saw her in town twice but she was shopping and I was running errands on my lunch break. We spoke for like five minutes each time before I had to leave. But for something like this, I’m a little torn. We’re best friends. I trust her with my life, but secrets are hard for Meg. Really hard. I don’t want to put her in a compromising position, where she has
to watch what she says with certain people like my parents or Savage himself. Also, it’s a small town we live in. Everyone knows everyone. Case in point, her cousin dated my boss. Of course, her cousin didn’t work at the mine, so it wasn’t a big deal, or a conflict of interest, the way it is for me and Savage, especially for this summer HR stint.

  I keep going back to the fact that she’s my best, closest friend. We’ve lived on the same street, just three houses apart for all our lives. We’re each other’s support systems. We don’t keep secrets from each other. On top of all that, I’m tempted to tell her because she might have some sage advice for me. Going by her personal experience, Meg’s akin to a relationship expert. She’s a knockout. Everything about her keeps the guys coming, from her strawberry blonde hair, to her big, bright turquoise colored eyes and always pink pouty lips, to her double D’s and teeny tiny waist, and legs that go on for miles and miles. Unlike me, all through junior high and high school, she dated a lot. There has been a long, long, long, long line of guys after her since I can remember.

  The other thing is, it’s only been two days since Savage has been on my radar. Nothing has really happened between us. In a way, it’s all in my head. Except for the split second that he was pressed up against me at his place and we kinda kissed. But overall, given how things went down last night, it’s likely that we’ve run our course already. And then there’s the point that as it’s just been two days, it’s not like I’ve been keeping it from Meg for weeks or months.

  “What is it, already?” she asks, tugging at my elbow as if to physically pull me from my thoughts.

  “Honestly, it’s not a big deal. I met this guy and thought there was something there, but after getting to know him a little, I know now that he’s not for me. Or, I’m not for him. Whatever, you know what I mean.”