316 Rose Rd. (A Cherry Falls Romance Book 11)

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316 Rose Rd. (A Cherry Falls Romance Book 11) Page 2

by Frankie Love


  Cliff

  As I hike towards the top of the hill, my breath coming hard and fast, I find myself grinning. That doesn’t happen too often, at least not without good reason.

  But the girl back at that cabin? Yeah, Harper seems like a pretty damn good reason to me. I’m not sure what it is about her that has me feeling this type of way, but I’m not complaining. She’s only here for a few days, and I am going to enjoy every moment of getting to see her fine ass wandering around here in her high-heeled boots.

  While I am out here, I figure that I might as well take a hike up to the top of the hill, see if there are any more of those cougar tracks . I want to know where that thing is – or maybe I am just not ready to go back to camp yet. Because all I want to do back at camp is check in that Harper is okay, has everything she needs.

  I’m smart enough to know the last thing a capable woman like her needs is a man bugging her when she wants nothing but peace and quiet.

  There are no more tracks up here, thank fuck, but that doesn’t mean that my head is clear quite yet. I head back to the campground, and glance down towards the cabin once more, the one that I just dropped Harper off at, and, for a split second, I’m sure I can see the shape of her through one of the windows – her arms over her head, as though she is pulling off her shirt.

  I look away at once. What the fuck am I doing? I need to get out of here. I need to get out of here before I do something that I’m not going to be able to take back.

  Back in my own cabin, I do my best to get my mind off Harper. I try to read a chapter of a new book, but give up after thirty minutes of staring at the same page. Harper isn’t just playing at the back of my mind – she’s at the forefront.

  What is it about her? There’s something about her sweet, sing-song voice that makes it hard to think of anything else – well, that, and her gorgeous body, even hidden under the few layers that she was wearing when we met.

  Maybe a shower will help this goddamn ache in my cock. But as I strip down, I can’t help but think of her – can't help but think of this woman, the way the shape of her looked moving against the light of her cabin. Was she really stripping naked? The thought of it is enough to make me stir, and I slide into the shower, hoping that the cold water will be enough to cool me off.

  But, if anything, it only makes my predicament worse. My cock is hard already and I take it into my hand, squeezing gently as I begin to stroke myself. I close my eyes, let my head lean back against the tiled wall behind me, and imagine that it is her hand on me instead. Fuck, yes – her small hand wrapped around my cock, her sweet voice in my ear, the feel of her breath against my skin. I can almost feel her breasts pressed against me, slick with the water and the soap, and it takes everything that I have not to growl with desire.

  How would her body feel against mine? Soft, supple – it has been a long time since I’ve had a woman in this place with me and it takes everything that I have not to turn off the shower and march down to her place and tell her that she’s going to be lodging here with me instead. I want to get my hands on her, see if her curves feel as good in person as they do in my head. I stroke myself faster, clenching my jaw, almost able to feel her fingers moving against my bare chest as the water trickles down over my skin.

  The way she looked at me, I could tell that she was thinking much the same thing that I am. That she wants me. That she desires me. I don’t know if she intends to do anything about it, but I am more than happy to indulge whatever little fantasies she wants to live out while she’s here.

  My breath is coming faster now, unable to hide my want, and it doesn’t take long till I find my release, letting out a groan of pleasure as I finish. Thinking of her. Wishing that it was her hand around my cock instead of mine.

  I clean myself up and step out of the shower – shit, I need a drink. If I am going to be able to get through everything that is going to happen over the course of this weekend, I might need several.

  I text Grant as I head down to the Rusty Nail, the bar that we always go to when we’ve got some serious talking to do. Grant lives out in Cherry Falls with his bride Goldie, but he’s been my best friend since damn near forever.

  He’s the guy that I go to when I’ve got shit to figure out, and I know that he’ll be ready to tease the hell out of me for even letting a passing crush on this girl take hold. I don’t want to let it get under my skin. I need to exorcise it before I do something stupid.

  The Rusty Nail is already half-full by the time I get there, and Grant is running late. I take a seat at the bar, and the bartender comes over to me.

  "Can I get you something?" he asks. He’s not as sweet as the girl who usually works here.

  "Whiskey," I reply, meeting his tone. He eyes me for a moment before he backs off and goes to get me my drink. Who the hell is he? I’ve heard some people talking about the new owner of the bar – Sawyer something, I think – but this guy is going to have to switch up his attitude if he wants to make sure that he keeps people coming back.

  But I don’t have so long to linger on that before Grant appears next to me, slaps a hand on my shoulder, and takes the stool next to mine.

  "Well, hi there, stranger," he greets me, lifting his hand to catch the bartender’s eye and ordering himself a beer.

  "Been far too long," he remarks, touching his bottle against my glass as soon as he gets it. "What brings you down from the mountains? Wild animals chase you out or something?"

  "Or something," I reply, and he tips his head to the side with interest.

  "Oh, yeah?" he presses.

  I nod. "There’s a girl staying up there this week," I explain.

  "What’s her name?" he asks. He knows pretty much everything about everyone around these parts, and I know if anyone is going to be able to get me an in with her, it’s him.

  "Harper," I reply. "Harper Higgins."

  He nearly spits out the mouthful of his beer that he just took a sip of.

  "Harper Higgins!” he exclaims, loudly enough that a couple of people look around to see what the commotion is.

  "Yeah, what about her?"

  "She’s a preacher’s daughter, Cliff,” he replies, shaking his head, a grin passing up and over his face. "You – she's really staying up there this week?”

  "Yeah, that’s her name," I reply. I can’t help but feel a little defensive. I don’t know what I wanted him to say, but I had hoped for something a little more impressive than this.

  "You’re crushing on her, aren’t you?” he asks.

  I shake my head. "Just wondering who she is–"

  "So many people have come and gone up there since you started working there, and I think you’ve asked me about three of them," he remarks. "You like her, don’t you? You think she’s cute?"

  "So what if I do?”

  He chuckles, shakes his head. "Look, buddy, not to take the wind out of your sails or anything," he explains, "but she’s a preacher’s daughter. Very definition of a good girl. I don’t think that she’s going to be in all that much of a rush to come running up to the mountains to live with you."

  "I guess," I mutter, and I pick up my drink and take a long sip, trying not to let that thought get under my skin.

  We chat a little more, about what’s been going on at Goldie’s theater and his auto shop, before we call it a night. On my drive home, I find my mind drifting back to Harper, over and over again.

  She’s sweet, that’s for sure – there's something about her that interests me, intrigues me, even though I know that I should be a little more careful about who I let get under my skin. I just – there's just something about her that excites me. And right now, I could use a little excitement in my life.

  Chapter Four

  Harper

  I flop back on the bed, let out an irritated grunt, and toss the vibrator onto the bedside table.

  Is that thing broken or something? Because I’m sure that I’m meant to have been able to get off by now. I feel like I’ve been trying it out for
hours, flipping this way and that, lying on my back, my front, trying to get off. Trying to feel something other than this slightly irritating grumble between my legs.

  I look over at the thing sitting on the table beside me and silently curse it inside my head. Why can’t I just... come? I have been trying for hours. At this point I’m not sure what it’s going to take.

  Maybe I just need to get out of bed and stop putting so much pressure on myself. This is meant to be fun, after all, and I am making it feel like a chore. Maybe I need a warm shower. I’ve been travelling all day and my hair could use washing. It might be easier to get off if I’m freshly scrubbed.

  I head through to the bathroom, and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. There is a furrow in my brow and my cheeks are flushed, and I can’t help but wonder how long I am going to have to wait to make this trip worthwhile. I have been trying so hard, so darn hard, to get where I need to go, but it still eludes me.

  I would be lying to myself if I said that there weren’t some other things on my mind when I was masturbating, too. Cliff, to be precise.

  I know that I shouldn’t even be thinking of him like that, but it’s hard when he looked at me the way that he did, when he smiled with that crooked grin. I wonder if he has been thinking about me since he left – or if he has been going about his day like normal. Instead of spending it in this horny fugue state.

  I strip down and go to turn on the shower – only to realize that this particular bathroom only has a toilet and a sink. Well, they did say it was rustic. I didn’t even think to check that. I grab the paper map from the coffee table and look it over. The showers are back near the main building – communal ones for all the guests. Not exactly what I fantasized about for my sexy weekend break, but I’ll take what I can get right now.

  I dress myself hurriedly once more, gather my toiletries and my towel, and pick my way across the darkening campsite towards the showers. Luckily, it’s quiet, and I doubt that I am going to run into anyone while I’m getting changed. I might not be a prude, but there are still some of the remnants of being a preacher’s daughter stuck to my brain, and I don’t much like the idea of having other random people see me naked.

  By the time that I reach the showers, I’m shivering a little, and praying that the water is going to be hot enough to ward off the chill that has settled in around me. It’s quiet inside the building, and I switch the water on and watch the steam course up at once.

  I strip down quickly, as though I am about to be caught at any moment, and slide beneath the water. Mmm. It feels so good, the warmth of it curling over my skin. I can’t remember the last time that I enjoyed a shower so much.

  Relaxing for the first time since I arrived at the campgrounds, I lean against the wall of the shower, letting the hot water run over me. With eyes closed, I let my mind wander.

  It wanders straight to Cliff.

  I can almost picture his fingers on my skin, tracing down the water lines left on my body.

  No! I try to push his image to the back of my mind, but it’s too late, it’s taken root there, and the shock of it is almost more than I can take. I feel as though I am doing something that I shouldn’t be, picturing him like this, but it’s not as though I can just turn off the want that is pulsing through me right now.

  I can feel that desire getting the better of me, even though I know that I should push it down. I barely know him. And yet, the thought of his hands on my body right now is getting me friskier than anything that the vibrator was able to do for me.

  I move my hand between my legs, grateful for the shower curtain’s privacy, not that anyone is here. My pussy is soaked – in a way that it hasn’t been in the whole time that I was using that vibrator. I can’t help but let out a little moan of delight, the sound of it circling around me, filling the space as though I own it.

  My fingers move against my clit, my nub already a little swollen at the thought of his hands all over me. His mouth on mine. I imagine his tongue tracing down my neck, over my shoulders, down, down, down – my nipples are hardening, growing fuller under the water, and I push a finger inside of myself, gasping loudly.

  Yes, yes, yes. I can feel the pleasure starting to stir up from deep within me. The rise of it, the demanding presence of it, the way that it feels, the way that it consumes me… I picture his hand between my legs instead of my own, the way that it would move against my skin – the way that he would touch me as though he knew that he owned me, as though he knew that I belonged to him.

  His rough hands moving across my body, gripping tight and groping me, making sure that I understood that every inch of pleasure that I was allowed came from him and him alone...

  I move another finger inside of myself and start to grind against my hand. I am getting close. I can feel it. I have never gotten this close before in my life, but I know that I am drawing there now. The muscles on the insides of my thighs twitch, and I grit my teeth to try and contain another moan, but it rises out of me before I am able to stop it.

  I don’t care. I just want to let this rush over me, let this take control of me. I have been waiting for too long to stop now. I can almost feel the roughness of his fingers between my legs, setting the pace, making sure that I know just what is good for me–

  "Hello?”

  A voice cuts through my reverie, and my eyes snap open. I instantly feel blood rush to my face. Who the hell is that? How the hell am I going to explain this? Whoever this is, they just walked in on me basically humping my hand right here in the middle of the communal shower area.

  I turn off the water and reach for my towel, snatching it up at once and wrapping it around myself. I don’t have time to get dressed. I just need to get out. Whoever it is, I don’t want them to get a good look at me. I round the corner, eyes fixed on the floor, and, of course...

  "Harper?”

  It’s him.

  I look up, knowing that I can’t ignore him any longer. I feel as though I have conjured him through sheer force of will – here he is, right here in front of me, and I can feel the heat in my cheeks burning under the fluorescent lights above us.

  "Are you all right?" he asks.

  I nod, cheeks burning.

  "I thought I heard someone in pain," he remarks, eyeing me curiously. Oh my gosh, he must have heard me moaning all the way out here...

  "I – I don’t know what that was," I lie swiftly.

  "You didn’t hear it?”

  "No–"

  I try to push past him, and I make it outside. What am I going to do? Run all the way back to my cabin like this? If he looks at me, he’ll see how embarrassed I am. He’ll guess at once just who was making those noises – and just what on earth I had been doing in there.

  But I’m not going anywhere, not so soon. Because the moment that my foot meets the ground, it flies out from underneath me, and I go careering over, my towel flying off as I tumble toward the earth.

  I let out a panicked little shriek, but I needn’t have worried about anything because, a moment later, he catches me in his arms.

  And I realize that I am totally naked, in the dark of the night, being held by a man who has been the focus of all of my fantasies since I arrived here. And I have no idea what the heck I am meant to do next.

  Chapter Five

  Cliff

  "Are you okay?" I ask Harper. She nods at once, and goes to pull away from me so that she can grab her towel. She hardly has the thing wrapped around her again before she lets out a yelp of pain.

  "Ah!”

  "What’s wrong?" I ask with concern.

  "My ankle," she winces, and she tests it out, putting a little weight on it before shaking her head and retracting at once.

  "You need to get it wrapped up.” It’s hard not to think about the fact that she is basically naked right now. I’m pretty sure that I heard her inside the shower block – not sure if that was pain or something else, but it was impossible to ignore.

  "I can go back to my cabin,” she says.
“I’m sure there’s a first-aid kit there–"

  "That’s way too far," I reply firmly. "Mine is just around the corner. Come on, I’ll get you fixed up."

  "It’s okay," she tries to protest, but she attempts another step on her foot and then shakes her head at once. Yeah, that’s what I thought.

  "Come here," I mutter, and I lean down and scoop her up into my arms. She wraps her arms around my neck, holding on tight, and I try not to think about how close I am to her naked body right now. She smells good, like fresh air and clean clothes, and I have to put in the effort not to bury my head against her neck and inhale her sweet scent close-up.

  My cabin is just around the corner, and it doesn’t take long before I get us both there. She balances on her good foot as I open the door, and then hops inside, holding her towel around herself tightly.

  "Be careful," I warn her. "Don’t want to take the other one out, too."

  "I’m not a total klutz," she protests.

  "Could have fooled me," I reply, and she laughs. She has a nice laugh, warm and full and honest.

  "Fair point," she agrees, and I put an arm around her waist and lead her to the small chair that sits opposite the fireplace. She sinks down into it and I go to find my first-aid kit.

  She’s in my house. My house. The two of us are alone in my house right now. I try to push that to the back of my mind. She’s a guest in this place, that’s what I have to remember, and that means that this isn’t just about how much I want her. I’m just helping out someone who got themselves into a little trouble, that’s it. Even if I can feel her eyes following me around the room as I go to get all the stuff that I’ll need.

  I kneel down at her feet, and she crosses her legs tightly and offers me the injured ankle – it doesn’t look like it’s in too bad a shape, but I am going to take my time anyway.

  I pull out some bandages and some wipes, cleaning off some of the mud that is clinging to her skin. I can’t help but notice how shapely her legs are – strong, lean, as though she spends most of her time running around on them.

 

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