by Tarin Lex
Hale steps close and looks down at me. “Getting hungry?”
Does a bear poop in the woods?
I smile instead of saying that. “Is it impolite to say I’m starving?”
“I’m not interested in polite,” Hale says, leveling me with an obsidian gaze. I watch as he gracefully strokes his beard. His large frame standing over me eclipses almost everything else that was in view.
I steel a breath. “What are you interested in, Hale?”
“Lots of things, beautiful. Let’s get some food in our bellies. Then I’ll tell you. Or rather, show you.” He smirks, and my heart offends my chest—it does that every time he calls me beautiful—and he offers his hand to help me stand up. I reach for it and with the effort of blinking he hoists me right to my feet.
“I reckon you’ve never pitched a tent,” Hale says, and for a moment I think he’s on to me.
“What?”
“Figured we’d set up our tents first. Then you can relax while I build the fire and cook our dinners.”
I’m not saying that doesn’t sound great. It is getting cooler as the sun goes down, a warm fire would be splendid. And cook for me? Hell, yes, I’d like that any day of the week.
It’s the whole “tent” business that’s got my lungs convulsing.
“Uh…Hale.”
He’s already started unpacking his tent, separating the stakes, rope, and the housing. “Yeah, babe?” When beautiful becomes babe I become so offended I could just force him to sleep with me.
Except I don’t really have to force him, because: “I, uh, forgot to pack something…important.”
“No worries, I’ve got everything we need.” He works fast…um, pitching his tent. I can’t help but quietly giggle. Forty-two, Hope. You’re forty-fuckin’-two.
As I watch him, his muscles flexing and twitching with the physical work, my dirty adolescent mind gives way to the grown woman I am now—hungry, horny, heated by wicked desires and need.
I finally confess, “I don’t have a tent.”
Hale stills. Then he pivots slowly to look at me. He drops the hammer he had been using to bury the stakes. His dark brow gradually lifts. “Come again?”
“I don’t, um, I didn’t…” I wonder if a heart can stay trapped in a throat? “I’ve never done this before, and I just didn’t think of it.”
He rakes a hand through his beard, again and again, faster than I’ve seen him do it. “Your backpack was that heavy and you didn’t even have a tent.” That part isn’t a question, just musing aloud, it seems. “Hope. Where did you think you’d sleep?”
I’m not sure he’s trying to make me feel silly, or downright dim, but that’s what happens. I drop my head and say to my feet, “I… I didn’t think of it at all. It just…completely escaped me.” Stupid, stupid. God, Hope.
In half a second Hale is standing before me. With his thumb and forefinger he lifts my chin to meet his gaze.
Black eyes see into mine. It’s very hard to look at them. It’s very hard to look away.
“You think I can’t hear you berating yourself?” He’s still holding my chin as he says it. “I can’t stand it, Hope. I can’t fucking stand it when you doubt yourself, or chide yourself. Look at you. You came all the way to Idaho, alone. You’re standing in the middle of the fucking wilderness, about to set out on a grueling hike to the top of that peak.” He lets go of my chin and points and I have to kick my head all the way back to see the jagged tip. “So you don’t have a tent,” Hale says. “You’ll sleep in mine.”
I swallow my heart. “And you?”
“Don’t worry, beautiful. I can sleep outside.” Then he does that thing where he does actually nothing at all and my pussy reacts with damp, pulsating heat. Just flippin’ reacts for no apparent reason, only his sex pheromones radiating, and he’s standing really close to me.
He says, “Or I can sleep inside…with you.” Hale turns away to finish setting up his tent—for me. From there he flicks me a smile that altogether dissolves my panties, and says, “Your choice.”
#
I’ve never seen so many brilliant stars. Even with the light from the fire blazing, every inch of the night sky glitters with them, dazzling me.
Hale says the ones that don’t shimmer are planets, not stars. The tiny reddish one is Mars; although Jupiter is farther away, it dominates tonight’s moonless sky, as big and bright as a diamond. Hale takes my finger in his to point out two visible solar systems, then the galaxy Andromeda, which looks slightly pink and blurry and far, far away with the naked eye, but still. It’s the galaxy Andromeda!
I can’t stop looking up, I’m so enthralled. My neck is going to hate me tomorrow.
“Still wish you’d done this without a guide?” he says, rounding the picnic table to sit across from me.
I take a sip of my midnight coffee from a tin mug. Add it to the list of tomorrow’s regrets. “No, Hale. I’m especially glad it was you.”
Hale proffers a sideways grin that almost has me fetching my faux purple lipstick… I try to hide a girlish smile behind my mug.
There’s the picnic table, fire pit, and little flat square of land for the tent at our campsite, and nothing else. Hale cooked a surprisingly delicious meal over the fire, as promised, and I finally got up the nerve to pee. Conversation through dinner was easy, light and easy. I’m not sure I’m more surprised by Hale or myself. He’s such a formidable presence, on the surface. But I find myself comfortable with him, uninhibited. Free.
I hadn’t even realized how locked-up I’d been in myself.
“Thank you,” I tell him. I don’t tell him why.
He’s sitting across from me now, idly working an awl through a swatch of camel-colored leather and taking sips of coffee from his own mug, while the fire’s orange flames dance beside us.
“What’s that you’re working on?”
“Not sure yet,” Hale says. “It’s not enjoyable if I know in advance what it’s s’posed to be.” His outlook is unlike everything I try to work toward in my regular life.
“You ever disappointed?” I ask.
“Not really,” he says, easily. “It’s the journey. I do what the leather calls of me, in the moment.” He does realize he’s talking about inanimate objects, right? Then he says, “I like to watch the art…become.”
I wonder if that’s what I am now. A person waiting to truly become. Feels like, maybe, I’m just about there.
“What do you do when it’s finished?”
“I keep a lot of what I make. Some of it I give away. Other pieces I try to sell. My daughter, Khadija, works for an artisan shopkeeper in downtown Stanbery. I’m no salesman, but Khadija does a good job putting my pieces on display, while earning her own paycheck, too.”
“You…have a daughter.” I hadn’t pictured him as a dad. I wonder if he’s the overbearing, overprotective type, or if he lets her have free rein to be herself. I can imagine Hale as some combination of both.
“Yes.” I watch Hale take his wallet out of his shorts pocket and open it up to the same picture I caught a glimpse of in the bar. The brown-eyed brunette is even more stunning than I remember. Now I realize, she looks a lot like him. Not a love interest, but his own flesh.
I gather he’s single. Not that I care, or am feeling hopeful. I really shouldn’t feel so relieved.
“She’s beautiful.”
“Sure is.” He folds the wallet and tucks it away. I bet it’s also something he made. “Lucky for me, and every adolescent boy in the Wylder Bluffs, she’s a good girl, smart, focused. A lot like you, actually.”
If that doesn’t put a big smile on my face. “Wow. I’d love to meet—” I clamp my lips together. Did I really almost just say…
“That’d be something,” Hale admits, unaffected or deeply affected, I’m not sure. “She’d like you.”
Did he really just say…
My heart warms, even as the fire starts to dim. We finish our coffees in the long quiet that follows. I look up
at the sky again.
“It’s so amazing.”
“It’ll be really spectacular tomorrow night,” Hale says, cheerfully. “We’ll be camping right in the middle of the Starry Night Preserve.”
I want to ask what that means, but distantly, I think I hear the howls of wolves. Such a foreign, foreboding sound. My gut lurches. “Is that…”
“Coyotes. But there are wolves here. Bears too. The rangers keep an eye out for ’em and let us know when they’re in the area. You’ll see the signs posted.”
“Oh.” It doesn’t exactly settle my nerves.
“We should hit the hay. Big day tomorrow.”
I glance back at the cozy-looking tent, and the not-so-cozy sleeping bag on the ground beside it. He’s not really planning to sleep there…with the wolves and bears and cooling temps?
I sweep my gaze back to him. “Night then, Hale.”
“Sweet dreams, babe.”
I feel slightly dizzy as I walk to the tent. My mouth feels dry, and a headache threatens with a low, dull thrum to my temples. Strange. Must be the day I’ve had. Too much late-night caffeine. The altitude. The aphrodisiac that is Hale Kostas.
But wouldn’t he taste even better inside that tent...
“Hale.” At the entrance, I spin to face him. “I really don’t like to sleep alone. It’s…cold. And…lonely.” Of all things, not sure why I said that. I’ve only ever slept alone.
Hale lowers his craftmanship slowly down as my pulse revs up. He smirks, warm and dark like red Bordeaux, his face cut halfway in shadow, the other half illuminated by the embers and starlight. His smoldering gaze rolls languidly from my chin to my toes.
Desire rocks through my core and I’m certain my panties have melted to puddles.
He knows exactly what I’m asking of him.
“Gorgeous woman,” Hale replies in the cadence of a catamount’s purr. “I’ll be right inside.”
I’m counting on it.
Four
Hale
I take my time. There is a bit more cleanup to be done out here. I put my supplies away and pulley up the bear bag nice and high. I snuff out the rest of the fire.
Not her fire. I’m not certain that’s what she’s offering. I wasn’t looking forward to sleeping outside. I’d do it though. It’s a four-season tent and she’s going to get very cozy in there, with or without me. I’m happy to keep her company. But if I also need a place to come I won’t be shy about asking her for it.
You learn a lot about someone under these conditions. In fact I think every couple considering marriage should go for a hike in the wilderness first. It’s soon but I’ve learned Hope is more than a fabulous body and pleasant face, a whole lot more, but damn, that body, that face. I can admire a woman’s gusto, emotional strength and vocational prowess, and also appreciate her juicy ass I’d love to sink my teeth into. I can think of all kinds of ways to keep warm with Hope.
Doesn’t mean I don’t respect her. Respect and lust aren’t mutually exclusive.
When I toe off my boots, hunch down and unzip the tent, I am one-hundred percent thrown by the sight. Hope has stripped down to nothing but a thin gray camisole and matching panties. She’s sprawled on her back with her head propped up by a makeshift pillow of her outer clothing, facing me as I open the tent. In one second’s glance I find every exquisite dip and curve, her hungry eyes and endearing smile, those mouthwatering globes with pretty pink tips pebbled beneath the cami.
Christ. Every inch of her is begging me to explore…touch…taste…grind against.
“Jesus. Fuck.”
She grins more modestly than she’s dressed. “Those are two words that should never be said together.”
“But aren’t you a sight.” I feel my cock flex in agreement. I’m already hard as a rock. What a fabulous fuckin’ body she has. Hope blushes bright cherry red. Was this her idea or mine?
“Is this okay?” she asks.
“Very much.” I rake my gaze over her form, edging closer to her inside the tent. Gently I touch her skin, skating my fingers slowly up her bare thigh. She’s warm and damp and smiling as she lets me worship her honeyed skin. “I’m inclined to strip down till I’m comfortable, too.”
Her lavender eyes go wide as discs, but her mouth says, “I was hoping…you would.”
“Careful, babe,” I caution her as I doff my clothing. “I do have limits to my restraint.”
I strip down to my socks and boxer briefs, and then I really take my time. I’m still not as comfortable as Hope looks, purloining my tent with wet thighs and a see-through top. I’ve got half a mind to believe she engineered this setup on purpose.
“Turn over.” I watch her swallow, slowly, then she obeys, turning over to submit a full view of her apple-shaped bottom and dainty thong. “Get on your knees.”
“You’re incorrigible,” she teases me.
“And don’t you love it.”
She giggles, then straightens up over her knees, her back to me. Angelic sight. I lower down to the same position, releasing a loud groan I can’t try to contain. Securing her hips I press her backside against my front and hold her there for two breaths.
“Do you like it when I touch you like this?” I whisper.
“Yes.” Her voice quavers on the word. I can feel her heart pulsing hard in the stillness.
“Are you cold?”
“No.”
“Good.” I let my hands do as they want, skating my fingers lazily up under her cami, over luscious curves, torching a trail of gooseflesh until I reach her generous breasts. She gasps. My balls clench. I cradle each globe in my hands, working my thumbs and forefingers slowly inward to massage her peaks.
Hope shudders at the touch.
“Sensitive there?” I squeeze a bit harder. “God, I love your tits.” It escapes more growl than whisper. God I’d love to see them bounce. There’s the boundary of my self-restraint. So fuckin’ close.
I press my cock against her slightly parted thighs.
“Take off your shirt, beautiful.” I release her long enough for Hope to pull her shirt over her head. Atta girl. I slide off my boxer briefs. Certainly won’t be needing those.
I grab hold of her hips again, pivoting her to face me. Love how she follows my commands.
I have more.
I sweep one hand up along her thigh again, watching those purple irises shine with desire. Insanely gorgeous. I want to nip and suckle every square inch of her, from her parted mouth to her sopping wet cunt, but she’ll have to do more.
She’ll have to want it more than she’s ever wanted a man before.
My voice becomes a low grumble. “Now the rest.”
“But, your socks.” She smiles coyly. “Tit for tat.”
Smartass. I stifle a grin. “You started this, babe. You first.”
Hope
Oh, what have I done? I’ve never been this forward. I’ve never taken orders from men. But I am tonight, and I will. I’m practically nude and lit up like fireworks and, apparently, not hiding it all that well. Do I really get him all to myself? Hale’s mere presence turns me inside out and upside down, and right now all I want to do is what he tells me to.
Maybe it’s naïve, but my instincts haven’t failed me yet. Right now they’re firing hot. I can believe. It may hurt a little later, but I’m safe here with him. He’ll do more than keep me warm, he’ll protect me. He’ll bring me pleasure. He’ll wreck me, pummel me, raze every uncertainty I own until I accept his touch, scent, voice, desire, magic, warmth, and his love.
Lust? Maybe. Or maybe there’s something deeper within that bottomless stare.
He’ll satiate me. If only tonight.
“The rest,” he asserts. “I dislike repeating myself.”
He didn’t say how fast. Slowly and with not one ounce of grace I shimmy out of my thong. Fully exposed in every way I’ve never been, I fold my hands behind my back and arc my gaze up toward his.
“Very nice.” He says it sorrowfully. A wrinkle fo
rms between his brow. He reaches down to stroke his cock.
Yes, yes! Here I am! I’m sick of hiding. In one gulp I say goodbye to forty-two years of inhibition and bullshit and self-doubt.
“You see what you do to me, babe?”
I answer him with wide eyes and sweep my tongue over my lips. Hale answers me back with a mad, fierce groan.
He fists his cock harder as he looks at me. I let him see. I let my gaze enjoy him. Hale has a body like Adonis, bronzed, brawn, his meaty parts sculpted and puffed as if hewn from stone. How appropriate, that my mountain man is built like a bear, with big strong thighs and wide, solid gait. I survey him. Always conjugating the patterns, numbers. Affixed to Hale I count seven tattoos and a full sleeve, two fabulous butt cheeks, one nefarious smirk, and nine and a half sturdy inches of pulsating cock.
My own sex quivers with concern, and hunger, and heat.
Sweat dapples along his inked neck and hard chest. I watch him breathe, slowly, ragged. Is it hot in here?
“Now…” he says, dark eyes bearing down on mine, “…I took something from you.”
“Yes.”
“You see that little pocket on your side of the tent?” he asks. I twist to look.
“Yes.”
“I left you a gift.”
I lean closer and peer over the fabric. It’s a gift, all right. One he stole from me.
I take out the masquerading bullet and hold it between us. “Do you make all of your lovers wear lipstick?”
“You’re very funny,” he grouches. “I want to watch you play with your toy. Show me what you like, beautiful woman. And then I’d like to play with you.” He rests his palm over my cheek, then dips his head lower to graze full lips along my jaw, down my neck, eliciting shivers straight to my sex. I could swear my sensitive pearl is flashing bright, summoning him.
He kisses my shoulders and chest and down my arms. He comes back up to graze his mouth, open and hot, beneath my curls and over my ear. He kisses my face.
