On Her Trail (Deep Desires)

by Liza Mitchell

  Table of Contents

  On Her Trail

  All Rights Reserved.

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Also by Liza Mitchell

  About the Author

  On Her Trail

  Deep Desires

  Liza Mitchell

  Published by Feather & Bleed Press, 2019.

  All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations used for review purposes.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This book is intended for mature, adult audiences only. It contains extremely sexually explicit and graphic scenes and language that may be considered offensive by some readers. This book is strictly intended for those over the age of 18.

  All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older. All acts of a sexual nature are completely consensual. No one is related in this book.

  ON HER TRAIL

  Copyright © 2019 Liza Mitchell

  Edited by Jennifer at Mistress Editing

  Proofread by Paula Grundy

  CHAPTER ONE

  ____________

  GINNY

  She stood at the bottom of the next steep climb, sizing up the challenge. She’d quickly learned that these winding trails through the mountains were deceptively long. For example, take this next stretch. It looked like, ummm, an eighth of a mile? Ten minutes tops. Nope. No way. It was probably half a mile and would take her an entire hour. Or it was just a ten-minute hike that felt like an hour. Who knew? Not her, because she’d left her watch at home. Vacations should not be ruled by time and space! The tiny Type-A monster operating the controls in her brain had an aneurysm at least a dozen times a day, but she told that control freak to quiet down and enjoy herself. Clearly, she’d been alone in the woods for a bit too long.

  Leaves crunched behind her, and she turned to see who was coming up the trail. Please let it be my grizzly. The grizzly. Instead, it was a couple in their sixties decked out head to toe in designer, outdoor gear. They didn’t slow down as they passed, just nodded briefly to her as they zoomed right by. They could probably speed up that hill because of those damn cross-country-skiing-walking-stick things… and bionic hips. Definitely not because they’d put in the work and built up the stamina. Nope, definitely not.

  Half of the over-thirty crowd she’d seen on the mountain half-heartedly used a walking stick in each hand until they reached a steep climb, then those things were fucking magic. The guy at the army supply store had tried to talk her into one—they could even crack a skull in a pinch—but she’d been too proud to think she’d need one. She’d always been a regular hiker. Turns out there’s a big fucking difference between eight-hour day hikes and eight days of eight-hour hikes.

  Here we go. Here I go. Me. Alone. With the grizzly hot on my trail.

  Although, if her slow ass took a few breaks on this ascent, then maybe he would finally pass her. She glanced behind her. He wasn’t anywhere in sight. All day, that same guy had been behind her on the trail, slowly following her path. Every time she turned around, his eyes were glued to the forest floor just off the path like he was avoiding making eye contact. It freaked her the fuck out.

  He’d disappear for an hour or so, and she’d get to relax and breathe easy and slow to a leisurely pace, letting her mind wander. Then, almost like clockwork, as soon as her guard was down, he’d reappear behind her, and she’d be forced into code-yellow alertness—slightly tense, hypervigilant, eye-stabbing pick poised in her hand.

  Ginny couldn’t decide if she wanted the bear-beast man to pass her or not. If she could just get to her planned campsite off the trail, then he’d walk right by her none the wiser. But if he passed her on the trail and was as murderous as he looked, then he could hide and get the jump on her.

  This is why everyone told you not to do this. Her imagination was way too overactive. And once she learned that the National Parks reporting system for missing—read: "Murdered—People" was shoddy at best, she started contriving serial-killer survival plans. Now she felt almost as prepared for grizzly men as she did for grizzly bears.

  Everyone can suck it. She’d wanted to hike this trail for years and could never convince anyone to come with her. So she’d sat down and planned and taken the time off, and here she was. Almost through her first week, having a goddamn blast, right? Mostly.

  Honestly, her biggest complaint was the food or lack thereof. She had plenty to survive on. She’d even packed a few cans of wine and cosmic brownies for emergencies. Those were already gone. There was something deeply programmed inside of her that vacation meant food gluttony, and she even had to ration her coffee. Black. Coffee.

  “Excuse me,” barked a gruff voice behind her.

  Ginny froze in the middle of the path, doing exactly the opposite of what the man behind her had instructed. He didn’t speak or move, and neither did she. She didn’t even look at him. Just stood there, thumbs hooked under her shoulder straps, elbows out at her sides, like a damned idiot. Move.

  She dropped her pack and dragged it to the trees. “Sorry. So sorry. I’m so sorry.” Shut up.

  “It’s fine. You were just going to step on a morel,” he said, dropping to one knee and taking out a pocketknife.

  A six-inch knife. Okay, maybe three.

  “I was going to step in more what?”

  He turned and smiled at her, white teeth flashing between his overgrown beard as the corners of his eyes folded into deep wrinkles, seemingly the product of decades of sun damage. “A more-elle.” He held up his harvest, a mushroom that looked straight out of a Dr. Seuss book—a tall and skinny brain on a stem. “They’re relatively rare. And a delicacy. With a very small growing window. Have you ever had one?”

  She shook her head and swallowed a lump in her throat. His eyes never left hers. He’s a very friendly serial killer.

  “Are you from around here?”

  Yes, and my husband is expecting me home for dinner at six, and I have a microchip in my neck like our dog, because I matter just as much.

  “No, just passing through.” Damn it, Ginny.

  “Then I’ll let you in on a secret, and show you some prime morel spots. You can cook some up tonight. Come on,” he said, continuing his ascent. “I’ll show you.”

  Or he’s taking you to his super special kill spot…

  Serial killers weren’t that hot in real life, right? It was always the weird, awkward ones that got rejected by women who turned to the kidnapping and raping and killing, right? Right.

  “Right,” she said, picking up her pack.

  “Hm?” he asked, turning around to face her.

  “Oh, no… I just… I’m Ginny.” She scurried up the path and stumbled over her words, her feet as uncoordinated as her tongue. She tripped up the hill and started falling face-first into a tree root until she felt a firm grip on her elbow jerk her to a stop.

  “Eli,” he said, grabbing her other elbow and setting her upright.

  She craned her neck to thank him, but her mouth just hung half-open when she realized his thumbs were stroking her arms in light, almost imperceptible strokes. Then the tips of his fingers started to dig into the back of her elbows as his bright eyes turned cloudy and dark.

  Her
heart raced. She couldn’t get a full breath. A buzz spread across her skin. Shouldn’t adrenaline be kicking in? Fight or flight and all that. Exhaling slowly, she raked her teeth over her lower lip and shivered as the hum settled between her legs. Ginny, stop that! Remember, the grizzly is a code yellow? Not code red-light district!

  “You okay?” he asked abruptly, letting go of her so forcefully she almost fell over.

  “Yup. Thanks. Mushrooms.” She ducked her head and trudged ahead of him on the path.

  Whelp. Either he’s getting a great view of my ass, or I just gave him the opportunity to get out his knife and rope.

  Hopefully, the knife stayed in his pocket.

  CHAPTER TWO

  ____________

  ELI

  Fuck, that girl has a great ass.

  He should know. He’d spent the better part of the afternoon hiking behind her. Normally, sharing the woods with someone else would irritate him. He really liked to limit his interactions with the masses. And he’d started hunting morels just because their growing season coincided with a slow part of tourist season.

  At first, he’d done his best to let her get away from him, taking his time hunting and traveling off into the woods to look for new colonies. But no matter how slow he hiked, he still seemed to catch up with her. And that perfect ass. And that waist-long braid that hung over her shoulder.

  He’d left his secluded cabin that morning to go on a two- maybe three-day hike to harvest his own stash of morels. The same hike he took every single year. He’d collect pounds of the mushrooms and eat like a king for as long as possible, drying what he couldn’t get to before they turned. This year, he felt like he was hunting more than just mushrooms.

  Ginny huffed up the hill ahead of him, hiking faster than he’d seen her move all day. Though she was slow, her pack was worn and practical, like someone who actually knew what the fuck they were doing. And she was fit—the muscles of her calves flexed under her skin each time she pushed off the ground to climb higher. He wanted to drag his hand up her chiseled legs all the way to that perky ass.

  He closed the distance between them in a few strong strides. “So, where are you from?”

  She jumped at his voice and looked over her shoulder. Goddamn, she was anxious. He got that. He was a scary fucker—that was intentional. He didn’t want most people talking to him. Most. But he’d been trying his best to lay on the charm, put her at ease. After the third or fourth sighting, he’d made up his mind about his accidental trail partner. He wanted her.

  “Not here,” she answered quickly, jerking her head back to the trail.

  “Well, where are you heading?”

  “Not here.”

  “Okay. If you want, I know of a great campsite right by the river. I could cook up some of the morels. It’ll be life changing.” He smiled down at her.

  Her face was unreadable. Fuck, maybe his smile wasn’t as charming as he thought. He should just show her the mushrooms and move on with his trip.

  “You’re planning on staying at the Riverview site?”

  “Yeah, you know the place?” He glanced her way, but her head was bent to the ground, her braid swinging in front of her body as they trudged up the last stretch of the climb. Shit, he wanted to wrap that braid around his wrist and pull hard, forcing her to look at him when he spoke to her, not the fucking ground.

  “That’s where I was going to stay,” she mumbled, moving faster.

  When they reached the top of the hill, Ginny stopped, planted her feet, squared her shoulders, and met his eyes with an assertive glare. “Listen, I’m all for making friends on the trails. That’s fine. Especially since we both plan on staying at the only formal campsite for miles. But I have a panic button and a bear-stabbing thing, and I’m not saying I can fight you off, but I’ll probably blind you or get a good shot at your ball sack before you kill me. And they will find you. So, if you’re a creep, move along.”

  They were going to the same site. And she was a fucking firecracker. He brought his face close to her and whispered in her ear, “I promise, I won’t do anything to you that you don’t want.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  ____________

  GINNY

  Yes, please.

  She held her breath, worried she’d get the heaving bosom thing that would be a dead giveaway to the fact that she wanted Eli to do anything, everything, to her. His smiles and forced conversation made her think he was a serial killer. But his veiled threats and steely voice made her so fucking wet.

  She stood frozen, breath caught in her throat, until white spots started popping in her peripheral vision and her head swam. Heaving bosoms or swooning—choose, Ginny. Even the light-headedness made her hot. Maybe he could close his fist around her throat and fuck her right here.

  She gasped for breath, and Eli jerked back. “Sounds good.” What the fuck kind of answer is that? She scurried down the path, her face burning.

  They continued in silence for the next hour—or ten minutes—their boots pounding against the earth in tandem. Eli periodically bent down by the trail and harvested a few mushrooms, shoving them into a paper sack he had rigged up to his backpack. She’d pause and watch his massive hands do the delicate work. It was almost comical to see a man of his size with a full pack on his back crouched on the ground, hands digging through leaves and grass for a mushroom the size of a golf ball.

  “Why doesn’t anyone else pick these first?” she asked, bending over to help him with a particularly large colony.

  “Most people don't pay attention,” he answered gruffly. He seemed to either have his sugar-coated, serial-killer voice or this low, rough growl. She preferred the growl. It went well with his unwashed grizzly-man pheromones. Seriously, Ginny, get a grip.

  She shot up from her knees, putting some distance between them, and brushed her hands off on her shorts. He tilted his head and glanced at her, his eyes narrowed. Fuck, it was like he could see right through her, and he knew all the filthy thoughts that ran through her mind. Or he was just confused. It’s not like she’d know because almost his entire mouth disappeared behind his beard when he closed his mouth. But he did want her. Remember that promise thing? Or he was just being a tease. Who the fuck knew.

  “You know, this is why children are afraid of beards and clowns,” she snapped. Her hand shot to her mouth.

  “What?” he asked, his brows knitting together. Oh, this is his confused face. So that was his undressing-me-with-his-eyes face before.

  “I didn't mean to say that out loud. Are you done yet? I’m going to head to the campsite. I want to wash in the river.” She turned to leave, but his hand shot out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her back to him.

  “Explain the clowns,” he ordered.

  He was still kneeling, and his face was right there. Could she put a hand on the back of his head and gently guide him to her cunt like some kind of frat boy looking for a blow job? That’s rude. Yeah, probably not.

  His grip tightened, sending shivers up her spine.

  “It’s a facial expression thing. Kids are scared of clowns and beards because they can’t see the person’s expressions.”

  “What does that have to do with me?” His thumb had started to circle just above her pulse point, stroking her gently, while his fist squeezed tighter, almost determined to turn her bones to dust. Ginny bounced her knees nervously, trying to focus, to quell the fire that was starting in her core.

  “I couldn’t read yours. It’s stupid. I just meant to think it, and my mouth just ran with it.” His eyes bore into her and her cheeks burned. From embarrassment. From the heat tearing through her body.

  “Hmm,” he grunted. “Go wash. I’ll be there shortly.” Eli dropped her hand and turned to the ground, dismissing her.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ____________

  ELI

  He turned off the path into the clearing for the campsite, marked only by a small, white square of wood nailed to a tree. Th
e site looked completely empty and untouched. He trekked back to the main path and looked around. Maybe she’d missed the marker?

  There was no way she’d left him. No. Way.

  He turned back to the site, charging up the path and into the center of the clearing. A hammock, which hung between two trees, barely caught his eye—it was a dozen or more paces into the woods. And her pack hung from a branch, blending in with the undergrowth. Had she hidden those from him intentionally? Where was she? The river. Of course.

  Sticks and leaves crunched under his boots as he made his way over a hill and down to the riverbank. A pile of clothes lay on a rock next to her boots, but Ginny was nowhere in sight.

  “Ginny!”

  His anger shifted into panic. He’d taken his time looking for morels. She should have been done washing up long ago. Something must have happened to her.

  “Ginny!”

  Eli strode down the embankment, scanning the river for her body. For her. Most of his line of sight was obstructed by a thick forest of trees. He didn’t slow as his feet splashed into the water, soaking his boots and socks, walking out far enough to see the whole length of the river.

  There, just twenty feet away, he saw Ginny floating on her back. Her eyes were closed, and her arms waved lazily in the water on either side of her. His eyes raked over her body. Water lapped over the sides of her breasts, making her nipples disappear and reappear too quickly for him to really take her in, but just enough to make him want more.

  His cock surged to life, his blood pumping with the flow of the teasing river’s current. His gaze traveled down her body to her pussy, securely hidden by the ripples of the water’s surface. If the wind would settle down, her body would be completely on display for him.

  “Ginny!” he bellowed.

  She shot up, her eyes wide with surprise.