Big Man’s Claim

by Wylder, Penny

  Creeping up, I have my gun up, just to be safe. I'm not sure what's on the other side of the trees. The dog could be rabid and losing its fucking mind, or it could be trying to ward off danger.

  Either scenario isn't good for me.

  Peering through the trees, I'm shocked at what I see. There's a girl laying on the ground, covered in mud, and soaking wet. Her dog is yapping, half at me and half at the river.

  This river isn't normally roiling like this, and if she fell in, it tossed her around like a ragdoll in a washing machine. Standing still, I just watch her for second.

  She pushes herself up, which is a good sign, but I want to make sure she's all right. Taking a step forward, I try to be quiet so I don't startle her, but I'm not paying attention and step on a branch.

  The cracking noise causes her to whip her head over her shoulder, her eyes wide as saucers.

  I know her. Molly. . . Melanie. . . What the hell is her name?

  She works at the motel in town. I've seen her around a few times, too. It’s no surprise that I would recognize her, it's a small town.

  “Hey,” I say, walking out of the trees. Her dog runs up and starts to sniff my shoes and pants. Holding out my hand, I let him smell me. “Is he friendly?” I ask.

  “Yeah, his name is Buttercup.” Her voice comes out soft, but I can hear the pain.

  “You all right?” I ask as I pet her dog on the head. He's calm now, and goes off with his nose to the ground. “Are you hurt?”

  “I don't really know.” She rubs the back of her head. “I lost my footing and fell in.”

  Crouching down next to her, I smile. “Yeah, I can see that. Where does it hurt?”

  “My head and my ankle.”

  Looking her in the eyes, I can tell she isn't really focusing on my face. She's trying to, but her eyes keep shaking in their sockets. My gaze shifts between hers, then up and down her body.

  She's soaking wet to the bone. Her shirt is white, sticking to her skin like plastic wrap. I can't ignore the fact I can see her bra through the sheer fabric. It's black, standing out against her pale skin.

  I can feel my shaft thicken as her nipples go stiff and goosebumps pop up across her skin. She's beautiful. With bright green eyes that are starting to refocus and a head of rich red hair. Her jaw is soft and round, and the apples of her cheeks are tinted a light shade of pink.

  “Do I know you?” she asks. “You look familiar.”

  Good, she's lucid and recalling information.

  Swallowing hard, I ignore my body and direct my attention back to her. “Everyone around here looks familiar. You've probably seen me around town.”

  Melody, that's her name.

  Hovering my hand over her leg, I'm so fucking tempted to touch her. To feel how soft she is. To feel how smooth she is. I just want to touch her. But now is not the time.

  “Can you move your foot?” I ask, gliding directly down to the leather edge of her boot. She rocks her foot side to side slowly. “Good, that's good. I don't think it's broken. Can I see your head?”

  Leaning forward, she points at the back of her skull. “It's right here.”

  Splitting her hair apart, there's a giant bloody knot on her scalp. “Oh yeah, you hit it good.”

  “Am I bleeding?”

  “A little, but it's not bad. You're just going to have one hell of a headache tomorrow.” Pushing myself up, I hold out my hands. “Think you can stand?”

  “I'll try.” Melody places her hands in mine, and I pull her to feet. “Ah,” she hisses, lifting her injured foot off the ground. “Yeah, that hurts like a son of a bitch.”

  “It's already pretty swollen.” Running my hand through my hair, I ask, “What are you doing all the way out here anyway? Did you get lost?”

  Shaking her head no, her hair whips across her face, wetting her cheeks. “No, I was heading to my favorite spot to camp for the weekend.”

  “And where is that?”

  “It's the meadow that's tucked away on the other side of the mountain.”

  “I know the place.”

  I'm having trouble keeping my eyes on hers. She's so fucking gorgeous, and her see-through clothing is leaving very little to the imagination. Her shorts are tight and short, her shirt still nothing but a thin sheet of glass.

  Her tits, her ass, her sexy mouth and luscious hair, it's doing things to me I can't control. My palms are sweaty, my heart is hammering in my chest, and my dick keeps twitching. I need to get control of myself because this isn't right. Not here. Not now.

  “Where's your stuff?”

  She sighs heavily. “At the bottom of the river.” Her eyes dart to the water. “Everything I needed is gone.”

  “Is your car close?”

  “No. It's parked down at Hunter Gorge.”

  Thumbing my bottom lip, I look out at the water. The meadow isn't that far from here. I wasn't planning on spending the night in the woods, but I'm always prepared for anything. Pulling my pack around, I dig through it.

  “How about this? I take you to the meadow since it's almost dark and we're hours away from civilization. Then tomorrow we'll figure out how to get you home.”

  “I'm not sure I can walk there like this. Putting any pressure on my foot right now feels like I'm getting stabbed with a knife.”

  “No problem,” I say. Taking a long step forward, I sweep her off her feet and into my arms. Her hands come up instinctively, wrapping around my neck, and she giggles softly.

  That fucking giggle ignites a fire in my gut. I'm hot all over, my blood is pumping through my veins.

  “What are you doing?” Her voice is light as her lips peel back into a thin smile. Buttercup jumps at my feet, yapping and nipping at my shirt.

  “What do you think? I'm carrying you there. Walking on your foot will only make it worse.”

  Her fingers lock behind my neck as she shifts her body in my arms, snuggling closer to my chest. “What did you say your name was again?”

  “I didn't, but my name's Branson.”

  “I'm—”

  “Melody.”

  “How do. . .” Her voice trails off as she looks up at me.

  “I just remember you.”

  “But you know my name.”

  “I pay attention to details.” Smiling, she arches a brow curiously. Taking a firm step forward, I start carefully walking to the meadow. “We got to move. The sun is almost down.”

  Her body in my arms feels so amazing. I'm tempted to pull her in tighter, to hold her closer. I like the way she feels here like this.

  But I have to ignore the feelings. They have no place here. I'm not whisking her away for my own pleasure. I'm helping her so she doesn't get hurt anymore than she already is.

  This about keeping her safe. Nothing more.

  No matter how badly my body is trying to tell me otherwise.

  3

  Melody

  Branson James. . .

  A man with face I could stare at for hours. His sexy brown eyes draw me in, high cheek bones with light stubble make my thighs tremble.

  The muscles in his arms bulge like stone, carrying me like I weigh nothing at all. His chest is firm, and his jaw is cut with sharp lines and angles. I can smell a faint scent of cologne, sandalwood and mint. He exudes power, and even Buttercup, who is fiercely protective of me, follows at Branson’s heels, accepting his authority.

  I've seen him around town, and once at the motel talking to my boss. Of course there are rumors floating around town about him. Nothing crazy, and I don't know for sure if any of them a true. People talk, people lie, and sometimes there's a little truth mixed in.

  The one thing I know for sure is he that creates the most beautiful art. It's displayed throughout the town; at the diner, in the donut shop, there are even a couple of pieces at the motel, including a large one placed in the courtyard, visible through the window that I stare out of hours every day.

  A shiver rattles through me, causing my teeth chatter. It's summer, but my
wet clothes are like ice against my skin. And to make matters worse, my ankle is throbbing, and my head is fucking killing me.

  This isn't how I planned my weekend away.

  But with Branson holding me close, he creates a heated cocoon, and I feel so much better. He's so warm. I can feel his body heat as it spreads through me, turning my icy skin into hot flesh.

  “Here we are.” His voice is as rich as cognac, smooth and tantalizing.

  Lifting my head, the raging waters have been replaced with a lush green blanket. It's beautiful, and I'm instantly calmer.

  This is why I'm here. This is what I need. The serenity and beauty are enough to fill me with a rush of happiness.

  Taking a few more steps, Branson lowers me gently to a large boulder in the meadow. “Here, just sit and relax. I'll set up my tent and get a fire going.”

  The second his arms leave my body, I feel cold again. I miss them. I miss the way they felt around me, I miss how strong and powerful they felt against me. I want them around me again. I feel like I need them around me again.

  Maybe I hit my head harder than I thought.

  I can't think like this, especially about the man who rescued me. He's my savior, not my sex god.

  But he is so damn sexy.

  Running my fingers down my throat, I inhale a slow breath and let it out. “Let me help, I'm sure I can do something.” Looking around, I push myself up to half-standing, but instantly I wince in pain.

  “Not with that ankle,” he says firmly. “Don't worry about it. I don't want you overexerting yourself. You need to stay off that foot.”

  I sit back down. Branson’s right. If I want to be able to hike out of here, I better not push my luck. Buttercup wanders over to me, whining softly and placing his head on my lap. He looks up at me with his big puppy dog eyes. “It's all right, I'm fine. Don't worry, everything is going to be okay.” Scratching his head, he settles in comfortably.

  He's so comfortable around Branson, and I'm surprised by how relaxed I am too. Even though I know a little about him doesn't change the fact he's still a stranger. A sexy, hot, Adonis of a stranger.

  Dropping a pile of wood onto the ground, he picks through it, making a small stack of thin sticks. He digs around in his pack and pulls out a flint. Striking it a few times, a small flicker of light bursts underneath.

  Branson is on his knees as he leans in close to the tiny flame and blows softly. Adding some tinder, the tiny flame explodes into a full fire. He feeds it more wood until it's able to stay lit on its own.

  “There, that should help get the chill out of you,” he says, reaching out his hands to help me stand. I throw an arm over his shoulder and he gingerly helps me the few steps over to the fire. It’s not the fire that heats up my skin as Branson’s hands wrap around my waist to slowly help me sit on the ground. It’s the power in those hands. The force. But also the total control he has over his strength.

  “Thanks, Branson,” I say, holding out my hands to feel the warmth.

  “Please, call me Bran.”

  Nodding, I agree. “Sure, I can do that. You can call me Mel if you want.”

  He smiles as he lets his eyes drop from mine back to the fire. The orange and red flames flicker in his pupils, dancing in the darkness. His eyes are amazing. I can't ignore the glitter of gold and bronze as the light off the fire glows.

  “So, are you hungry?” he asks.

  “Yeah, I can eat.”

  Digging around in his bag, he pulls out a couple cans of food and a small pan. He works in silence, and I marvel at the efficiency with which he prepares the meal. He expertly arranges three sticks above the fire and hangs the small pot from them. In seconds he has the cans open and the contents warming over the fire. Within minutes the aroma from the cooking food causes my stomach to rumble, and Buttercup lifts his head and looks at me with confusion.

  “Don't worry,” Bran says. “I’ve got enough for all of us.” He stirs the soup a few times before he scoops it into three small bowls, handing me one. “Careful, it's hot.” He pours some water into Buttercup’s bowl before placing it on the ground and giving him a scratch on the head. “There you go, boy.”

  Slurping a spoonful, I stir the soup with my spoon. It goes down my throat hot, warming me on the inside. I'm so lucky this man found me. I have no idea where I'd be right now if he hadn't come along.

  “So,” I say, “I know we've seen each other around town, but tell me something about yourself.”

  “What do you want to know?” Eating a big bite of food, his eyes fall on mine.

  “I don't know. Why were you out here today?”

  “I came for a hike. You know. to get away. I like the silence. Same as you, I guess. But I also get my inspiration for my art out here. I mean, look at this place.” His gaze shifts around, admiring the natural beauty. “You can't find this anywhere but here.”

  “Yeah, I know exactly what you mean.” I can feel his words. He's right. Everything he just said is exactly why I’m out here right now. Well, everything aside from the art.

  After losing both my parents, I need this time to myself. A time to reflect and just gather my thoughts. My world was turned upside down when my mother died. Even though I knew she was sick, nothing could prepare me for how I would feel once she was gone. And then my father soon after, it was overwhelming.

  This place saved me.

  “Now that the sun's down, the temperature is going to dip.”

  “Yeah, and my clothes are still really wet too.”

  Bran throws out a sleeping pad and a sleeping bag, laying it on the ground under his small A-frame tent. “I only have one, so we'll have to share. I know it's not ideal, but it's better than nothing. You can't sleep on the ground, you'll get hypothermia.”

  Eyeing the sleeping bag, I toy with my lips. I should feel weird and awkward at the thought of snuggling up to a stranger, but I don't. Butterflies flutter through my belly and my heart starts hammering in my chest.

  “I get it,” I say, calm and casual. “I don't want to freeze to death, but what about Buttercup? Will he be all right?”

  “He'll be fine, but I have an extra sweatshirt I can put down for him.” Bran comes to my side and reaches down for me. “I'll help you up, then I'll turn around so you can take those wet clothes off.”

  “Take them off?”

  “They're soaked, you can't sleep in them. We can hang them over the fire though and they'll be good for the morning.” I'm about to protest, but he holds up his hand. “I'm not trying to be a creep, I swear. I just know being in wet clothes when the temperature drops is a recipe for disaster. For you and me since we’re sharing the sleep bag.”

  Nodding, I say, “You're right.”

  Branson turns away from me, but he's close enough in case I'm about to fall over and I need to grab for something. Peeling my wet clothes off my body, a cool breeze blows across my skin causing me to shiver. I decide to leave on my bra and panties for a bit of modesty. Besides, they’re so sheer they’re hardly wet at all.

  Rubbing the outside of my arms, I hop the couple feet to the sleeping bag and climb inside. “Okay, I'm in.”

  He turns to face me, giving me an awkward smile. “Sorry, I don't want this to weird, but I want to make sure you're safe.”

  His words hit me in the chest. I don't know what it is, but I'm turned on instantly. He's protective, he's my rescuer and savior, and he’s hot as hell. And the thought of being naked in a sleeping bag with him makes me wet.

  “It's fine, I trust you,” I say.

  He climbs in behind me, his scent overpowering everything else around me. “I'm going to wrap my arm around you and use my body heat to keep you warm.” His arm falls over my shoulders, and he pulls my back close to his chest.

  “I'm warmer already,” I say.

  The bag is small, made for one person. We're so close, tucked up against each other. I can feel his heart pounding against my back. His heartbeat is fast and hard, making my stomach flip.


  Inhaling, his cologne swirls across my face, invading all my senses. It's overwhelming, so overwhelming I can't ignore the heat that's burning between my legs. Rolling over to face him, I look into his eyes.

  He's mesmerizing. The dark hair, the dark eyes, the scruff I can see across his jaw, and the huge erection pressing against my thigh.

  He has this look on his face, like he's embarrassed and ashamed all at once. “I'm sorry,” he says, trying to scoot away. “It's not every day I'm this close to a beautiful woman.”

  “No, it's fine.” My voice is sultry and low. I don't know if it's the bump on my head or the fact that he's gone out of his way to help me that's making turning me on so much right now.

  Without a moment to think, I kiss him. My lips press against his, and for a split second he kisses me back. His lips are softer than I thought, dewy and velvety smooth.

  Parting my lips, I'm giving him permission to slip his tongue inside my mouth. But he doesn't. Instead he breaks away, pulling his mouth off of mine.

  “Melody, this isn't why I did this. I didn't do this to take advantage of you.” His eyes are troubled and unsure.

  “I know.” My eyes dance between his. “I didn't come out here looking for this either. I needed to get away. I've been feeling stuck, like everything else is moving forward around me, but I'm just stagnant.” Sighing, I hold his gaze with mine. “I came here to escape, and maybe this is exactly what I need right now. A chance encounter. A moment between two strangers that exists outside of my everyday world. I'm not going to fight what I want right now, especially when it's so close to me right now.”

  Bran's eyes move around my face, lingering on my lips. Licking his lips, he growls softly as he drives his hand into my hair and pulls me in for a kiss.

  His kiss is hard, hungry, and so very fucking sweet.

  It's everything I need it to be.

  He's everything I need him to be right now. Bran can be my escape.

  4

  Branson

  My fingers move slowly down the curve of her jaw, gently touching, enjoying her softness. Her lips sweep over mine, wet and slick as she opens her mouth to let me in. Our tongues slip around each other.