Love Is In the Air Volume 1

by Susan Stoker

  "That's what they all say," I whisper before tugging it off and letting it fall to the ground. I press up onto my tiptoes and kiss him hard, letting that campfire smell envelope me as my body turns to mush. He slowly wraps his arms around me, letting his hands slide up underneath my shirt, leaving a trail of chills up my back. I massage his tongue with mine, letting it slide back and forth across his as he presses me tighter against him. His hands slide down to my ass, lifting me up so that I can wrap my legs around his waist.

  He swirls us around and walks toward the wall, pressing me up against it. I lift my arms as he tugs my shirt off and, with minimal effort, unhooks my bra.

  "Caroline," he whispers between kisses as his lips begin their descent from mine to my neck then to my collarbone. "Are you sure?"

  I lean my head back against the wood.

  "Don't you dare stop," I tell him as I plunge my hands into his thick, chocolate locks. He lets out a groan that makes my body tremble as he goes lower, lower, taking my nipple in his mouth and sucking on it until I feel like I'm going to burst. He lets go, moving to the other and doing the same thing until I claw at his back.

  "Jesus," I moan just as his lips find mine again. He lowers me to the ground then reaches down between us and unbuttons my jeans. He slides them down to the ground then hooks his thumbs into the strings of my thong, his eyes dancing with delight.

  Thank God I just got waxed.

  And in an instant, I'm naked in front of this man who pulled me out of my car just a few hours ago.

  "Jesus," he says as he wraps one hand around my head and lets the other find my most delicate spot. It wouldn't take a weatherman to tell you that there's a flood going on in the nether regions. This man has my whole body salivating for him. "Mmm," he moans as his fingers glide through my wetness, making my whole body buck in his direction.

  "Don't stop," I whisper again, desperate for the connection, for that feel of him there. He smiles as he kisses me again.

  "Where did you come from?" he asks before taking a step back and picking me back up. He pushes the bedroom door open wider, walking us inside and setting me down on his dresser. He grabs my hips and slides me to the edge of the dresser, then he drops down in front of me, keeping his eyes on me the whole time. His hands slide around to cup my ass, then he presses his lips to my center, his tongue dancing across my folds, sending me into overdrive. My legs straighten, my head dropping back against the wall as he turns his head, methodically choosing his angles as if he designed my body himself. I grab hold of his hair, squeezing and pulling as I bite down on my lip. As his tongue swirls, his thumb circles me in perfect unison, bringing me to a boiling point I didn’t even know I had.

  “Fuck, Brew,” I pant as he comes up for air. He stands up and slides me off the dresser, planting me on my feet as he bends down to kiss me again. I kiss his neck, his chest, his abs, sliding down to my own knees and grabbing hold of his rock-hard ass cheeks. He’s as straight as an arrow, and I’ve never seen—ahem—length quite like his.

  I look up at him as I take him in my mouth, moaning as he fills me up, wishing there was a way for me to taste his whole body at once. I move back and forth, bobbing my head, squeezing his ass as I go, then I come off with one quick pop. He yanks me up by my arms, wrapping his fingers through my hair and pulling me in for another kiss.

  “Seriously,” he says as he kisses my neck, “where did you come from?” I smile and bite my lip just as he kisses me, his hands sliding up my back as he leads me backward toward the bed. He pushes me down gently, his soft kisses leaving my body practically screaming for more. “Are you sure about this?” he asks again, and for a second, I pause to think about his question.

  I have never done this. I mean, I’ve only had a handful of hookups since Brandt left, but all with guys I’d met more than once, let alone for just a few hours.

  But for some reason, I don’t feel an ounce of hesitation. I don’t feel guilty, and I don’t hear my mom or Lily’s voice telling me I shouldn’t.

  I don’t hear anything but our synced panting, don’t feel anything but his skin on mine and the intense heat that’s building between my legs.

  I have never been touched like this.

  “I’m 100% sure that I’d like to see how this plays out.”

  He smiles down at me as he nods then reaches over to the nightstand next to his bed. He pulls out a condom and tears it open with his teeth, sliding it on quickly. He lowers himself over my mouth again, but he doesn’t kiss me, just lets out a long, hot breath across my lips, my jaw, and to my chest. He squeezes my breasts in his hands before he reaches around my waist and flips me over. He pulls me up onto my knees then grabs hold of my hips again.

  “Your body deserves to be worshipped,” he whispers before plunging into me, making me yelp with pleasure. He moves slowly to start, making sure I’m okay with each stroke. Then, as I clench the sheets in front of me, moaning his name, he picks up the pace, bringing me closer and closer to the brink. He pulls me up so that my back is to his chest, and I reach around to hold his head as he moves.

  “Fuck, Brew,” I tell him, “I’m close.” He nuzzles into my neck, his lips against my ear.

  “Wait,” he whispers, “don’t come yet. Open your eyes and look out the window.”

  Confused, I do what he says.

  “Look at the snow,” he whispers. “Look outside. Look how beautiful it is.”

  I stare out, the combination of him pounding into me and the scenery making this inexplicable. It really is breathtaking, and the spots he’s hitting makes it even harder to breathe. He presses his lips to mine again. “Okay,” he whispers, his hand sliding down to circle me again. “Come for me.”

  A few more strokes, and I explode, falling forward onto the bed. A moment later, I feel his grip around my hips tighten, and his whole body shudders. He slides off the edge of the bed then falls back on top of it so that he’s spooning me, pulling me into him so that our slick bodies are pressed together.

  “Damn,” he says, feeling his hand around the bed. “So much for changing the sheets.” I laugh as I turn over to face him.

  “I don’t mind,” I tell him. I put my hand to my face. “Damn. I should crash into more ditches in front of hot mountain men’s houses.”

  He rolls onto his back and laughs, looking up at the ceiling.

  “‘Mountain man,’” he says with another chuckle. “Don’t think I’ve ever been called that one before.” He rolls over to me, tucking a pillow under his arm. “This might be selfish of me, but I really hope you don’t go crashing into anyone else’s ditch.”

  His face grows more serious, and I swallow as I pull the sheets up a little more.

  He smiles briefly as he leans in for a soft kiss then pushes himself up.

  “You’ve had a rough night,” he says, scooting toward the edge of the bed. “I should let you sleep.”

  But as he goes to stand, I reach for his arm.

  “Stay,” I tell him. Our eyes lock on one another as he contemplates my request. Sex is one thing—mind-blowing orgasms, moaning each other’s names.

  But sleeping together, no sex involved, means that something else is involved.

  Like feelings.

  And I can’t afford feelings. I don’t even know his last name—or his first name, for that matter. It cannot be Brew. No mother would name her child Brew.

  But for some reason right now, I really want to be with him. I want his arms around me, flesh on flesh, heart on heart. I want to get to know him without saying a word. I want the man who saved me tonight to hold me before this all goes away with the snow. I want to have this amazingly sweet end to the hottest night I’ve ever had.

  He smiles down at me as he scoots back to bed, pulling the covers up over top of us both. He pulls me into his chest so that my head rests on it and strokes my hair until I drift off to sleep.

  3

  When I wake up the next morning, he’s gone. His side of the bed feels cold and empty, alth
ough, I can still smell him around me. I scoot off the bed and tug on a shirt from my bag and the ultra-sexy plaid pajama pants I brought with me. I stop at the mirror to do a onceover, then wish I hadn’t. Yikes. I throw my hair into the nicest messy bun I can arrange, let out a breath, and then walk out to the main room where the smell of bacon fills the house.

  He’s got his bare back to me, the muscles flexing as he mans two pans at once, flipping the bacon in one and scrambling the eggs in another. I pad across the wood floors, soaking in my surroundings. The snow is still pounding down outside, but the sun in the sky makes it seem a little less daunting.

  “Morning,” he says over the sizzle with that killer smile of his. “Bacon and eggs okay?”

  “Morning,” I say back, soaking in the view of him as he turns back to the stove. “That sounds great. Thanks for letting me eat all your food.”

  He laughs as he turns the stove off and scoops the food onto two plates.

  “Happy to share it,” he says as he puts the plate down in front of me.

  “Mmm,” I say as I take a bite of the bacon. “This is the most perfectly crispy bacon I’ve ever had.”

  “Only way to eat it,” he says with a smile as he sits in the chair across from me.

  “So, is this the morning-after-with-Brew treatment?” I ask, and he raises an eyebrow. “Pretty decent sex,” I say, careful not to over-inflate his ego if he’s that type of guy, “and then breakfast the next day?” Our eyes meet for a moment then both drop awkwardly to our food as a few moments of silence pass. A smirk tugs at his lips, and I look at him suspiciously. “What?”

  He shakes his head.

  “I’ve never had a woman here,” he says with a shrug. “Actually, I’ve never had anyone here. I’m the only person who’s stepped foot in this cabin since I bought it.”

  I stare at him for a minute.

  “Seriously?” I ask him. He nods. Just as I’m about to pry for more information, my phone buzzes on the table next to me. My hands scurry for it as I drop my fork.

  “Hey, Lil,” I say.

  “Oh, thank God. You’re alive,” she says, her voice breathy. “Everything okay? Are you still with him?”

  “I am,” I say, motioning toward him that I need to take the call. He waves as I stand up and walk toward the back door, letting the freezing air hit me as I step out onto the back porch.

  “Is it...weird? What is he like? I can’t believe you just stayed with a total stranger,” she says. I look back through the glass at him as he sits at the table by himself and smile.

  “It’s actually...not,” I say. “He’s really...accommodating.”

  There’s a long pause, and then I hear Lily scoff.

  “You had sex with him, didn’t you?” she asks. I don’t answer, and she goes ballistic. “Oh my God! Caroline Rose Stanton! I can’t believe it! You crashed into his ditch, and then he got into yours!”

  I cover my face with my hand, fending off the embarrassment. I need to pick friends that don’t know me so well.

  “First of all, please don’t ever refer to my vagina as a ‘ditch’ again,” I tell her. “But if you must know, yes. And it was the best sex I’ve ever had, so you can fuck right off.”

  She cackles on the other end of the line and finally collects herself as I wait impatiently.

  “Jesus. Here I was, worried sick about you all night, just to find out that you were bumping uglies with the sexy lumberjack.”

  We both laugh again as I turn back to the door to see him standing to do the dishes.

  “It’s not looking good for you to get here today, is it?” Lily finally asks when we get ourselves together. I swallow as I stare up at the white sky, its wrath relentless.

  “I guess not,” I say.

  “Well, we still have a few nights in the house. Maybe it’ll stop soon, and we’ll be able to get to you. Keep your location on so I can track you. Just because he’s a good lay doesn’t mean he won’t still cut you up into pieces and put you in soup,” she says. I laugh.

  “You really need to watch something other than true crime,” I tell her. “I love you, Lil. I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

  “I know you will. Be safe. Love you,” she says before she hangs up.

  When I walk back into the house, he’s sitting on the bench by the door, tugging his boots on.

  “Where ya going?” I ask him. He nods his head to the back door.

  “Got to go get more firewood from the back,” he says. He pauses for a minute, turning back to me. “You wanna come?”

  I look out the door then back to him and nod.

  I walk back to the door and pull on my own boots, coat, and beanie. We walk off the porch and into the yard, the snow up to my mid-calf as we take overly exaggerated steps through it. The wood pile is about fifty yards from the cabin.

  “Is all this yours?” I ask. He nods.

  “Five acres,” he says as we finally reach the pile. He grabs a huge armful, and I do the same. “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I think I can handle a few pieces of wood,” I say, and as soon as the words leave my mouth, I want to smack myself. He smirks and raises his eyebrows.

  “I would tend to agree,” he says. I smile and nudge him with my arm as we turn to walk back to the house. But he nudges me back, and I lose my footing and go flying ever so gracefully into the snow. He drops his wood and steps toward me.

  “Shit,” he mutters as he stands over me and sticks his hand out to me. But when I take his hand, I tug him down to the ground, rolling him around in the freezing snow and plastering a pile of snow directly into his face. He does the same until he climbs on top of me and pins me down. And as the wind and snow blow around us, he leans down and lays the perfect kiss on my lips before he pulls me back to my feet. We look at each other for a moment, both seemingly trying to figure out what is real and what’s not. Over the last twelve hours, we met, he patched up my head, we fucked, and now we’re lying in the snow, kissing. No responsibilities, nowhere to go. Just this dangerously delicious man in this cabin in the woods.

  We carry the bundles inside and put them down on the rack next to the fireplace as he adds a few logs to the fire. As he pokes at it, he turns back to me.

  “What do you teach?” he asks. I raise my eyebrows. I wasn’t expecting a question about

  myself. With Brandt, they never came, so I never had to answer them.

  “Third grade,” I tell him. “Right in the center of the city.” He nods his head.

  “Wow,” he says. “That’s gotta be tough.” I smile.

  “It is,” I admit. “But I love it, ya know? I know that those kids need love more than anything else. At the beginning of each school year, the administration sends the staff a list so we know which of our students are homeless.”

  My heart breaks in my chest as I picture that list, remembering each and every name on it.

  His eyes widen.

  “All they need is someone to give a shit about them, and it could change the course of their lives,” I say with a shrug.

  “Wow,” he says as he leans forward on the edge of the fireplace and clasps his hands between his knees. “Do you think they know?”

  I tilt my head.

  “Know what?”

  “That you give a shit?”

  I think for a moment. No one’s ever asked me that.

  “I hope so,” I say. “I hope they know I think about them all the time. I wonder if some of them have heat or water. I wonder if someone is helping them with their homework. I wonder if they worry about their parents or have to care for their younger siblings while their parents work two and three jobs. I’m consumed by them. It’s, uh…basically what made my engagement crash and burn.”

  I feel fire on my cheeks, realizing what I’ve said out loud. His eyes widen again as he looks at me.

  “Engagement?”

  I nod.

  “Yeah,” I say awkwardly. “I was engaged for a year, to my college boyfriend, Brandt.
”

  “Brandt,” he repeats.

  “We went to school just outside of Baltimore, and I sort of fell in love with the city. But he had bigger and better plans.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like moving to a big penthouse in D.C.,” I tell him, “that his parents were going to foot the bill for. He wanted me to teach at some high-end private school where all the senators’ kids go. Kids whose parents pay for their grades. My salary would be almost double what it is now, but it’s not me. Not what I’m meant for.”

  “So, what happened?”

  I shrug.

  “I told him I wasn’t leaving,” I say. “I knew where I needed to be. So that was that. Four years together, one engaged, and it was down the drain after one conversation because we wanted different things.”

  He nods slowly for a moment.

  He scoots forward a little bit so that we’re closer together, then he takes my hand in his, interlocking our fingers.

  “One day, those kids are going to grow up and realize just how much you cared,” he says, our eyes locking. “If they don’t already. And one day, that idiot is going to realize just how fucking stupid he is.” I swallow and nod, awkwardly tucking a piece of my honey hair behind my ear.

  I clear my throat.

  “I hope so,” I say. “About the kids, I mean. What about you? What do you do?”

  He sits back on the fireplace now, leaning against the stone and shifting his position.

  “I’m, uh, sort of in between jobs,” he says with a shrug. “Trying to figure things out.”

  I nod.

  “Well, that’s, like, the most vaguest answer ever.”

  He chuckles as he scratches the back of his neck.

  “I worked for a technology company,” he says. “But I wanted to be a doctor.”

  I raise an eyebrow.

  “So what happened?”