by Dee Palmer
“Fuck! Oh hey, Buttercup. I wasn’t expecting to see you.”
“My afternoon appointment canceled, so I thought I’d pop in before… Are you all right?” She drops down into onto one knee beside me and tilts her head, casting an assessing glance the length of my body. I shift and pull myself up, turning half away and casually holding my shirt over my groin, hoping it’s discreet enough not to draw attention to the rock hard outline in my pants.
“Sure, why?” I brush the grass from my jeans. Her face flushes as red as the check pattern on her cute shirt, and even though her wide eyes are trying to look anywhere but my naked chest, I can’t put my shirt on to help her out. Not yet.
“You look…flushed.” She pats her own cheek as if testing the temperature and fans herself. It’s comical that she looks a good deal more flustered than me, given that she’s just woken me up from a high definition, white-hot dream with her in the starring role.
“I must’ve fallen asleep in the sun is all. Have you checked on Daisy?” I nod toward the cabin.
“Daisy?”
“It’s her name. I was going to call her Tread-softly. You know, the plant that’s covered in fierce stinging hairs that break off and release various irritants that get right under your skin. However, since I already know someone with those traits, I thought Daisy worked just as well.”
“You’re funny. And trust me, those traits are favorable to what buttercups symbolize.”
“Really? Now I’m intrigued.” I start to walk back toward the cabin and Buttercup falls into an easy step beside me. Her hand brushes mine, and I feel a jolt like sparks of raw electricity sprinkle my skin where she touched. She looks at me and then too quickly looks away. Yeah, she felt that too. Fuck.
“Don’t be. It’s just a name.” She tucks her hair behind her ear and changes the subject. “Daisy is a lovely name. Has she woken at all today?”
“She stumbled around while I was making lunch but then crashed. Honestly, I thought she’d be better company. I’ve seen animal YouTube videos, and I’m feeling we may have a dud on our hands.”
“I’ll make sure to tell her she’s a disappointment.” She arches a sardonic brow.
“Nah, give her time. She’s got a lot of potential.”
“I’m glad you’re not giving up on her just yet.” Her smile is genuine, and it beams even wider when I reassure her of my commitment to Daisy.
“I’m here for the duration.”
“I’m glad.”
“Okay then. You brought me food, I take it?” Patting my tummy, I get a kick when she visibly falters, swallows, and tries to cover up that she wasn’t just staring at my abs.
“Oh god, I knew there was—” Her mock shock is cut short.
“Not even as a joke, young lady,” I warn.
“Ahh! I’m sorry; I completely forgot—” Persisting with a joke she’s going to regret, I spin, and before she can react, I’ve lifted her high and tossed her over my shoulder.
“Right, you’re going in the river.” I slap her backside.
“No! I’m kidding.” She blurts out a girlie fit of giggles. I continue to stride toward the bank of the river. Her body tenses, and she starts wriggling like a worm, trying to get down.
“Good.” I spin so she can see her intended drop off.
“Wait! I said I was kidding!” she yells as I swing her down and into my arms. The momentum helps me pitch a good arc as I let her go. “What are you…ahhh!” The splash of water silences her cry, if only for a second until she resurfaces. She gulps for air and her arms flail as she stumbles to her feet. She’s drenched. Her shirt and white cotton skirt are almost transparent, and even if they weren’t, they are so slick to her body there’s not a curve or dimple I can’t see. Aaaand my erection is back with a vengeance.
“Oh my goodness! Why did you do that? I said I was joking,” she splutters, swiping her long hair from her face. She eyes my offer of assistance with suspicion, only taking my hand when she realizes it’s either that or scrabbling up the steep slippery mud bank on all fours.
“You did say that, but I think this was an important lesson.” Crossing my arms, when she snatches her hand back once she gets her footing, I have to clamp my jaw tight to stop myself from laughing too hard.
“Lesson?” What lesson?” Wringing the surplus water from her shirt, her eyes narrow and I have to wonder if she’d like to use this moment to try out one of those curse words she never uses.
“Pink doesn’t find jokes about food funny.” Her eyes are wild when I boop her nose, and I turn before she can grab my finger and bite it off. “Here endeth the lesson.”
“I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU DID that.” Squeezing water from my hair, I snatch up my ankle boots from the bank of the river, huffing and spluttering with shock. I guess I should be grateful he slipped them off before dumping me in the water. My blouse and skirt will dry out, but the old worn leather of my favorite cowboy boots would not have survived being this wet. I’m drenched.
“If you’re mad at me, you might need to stop smiling quite so much.” He grins, and he’s right, I do seem to be smiling. And he is still—wisely—keeping his distance.
“Oh, I am mad. I’m soaked. I don’t have anything to change into, and this is completely see-through.” Peeling my white skirt from my legs and shaking my blouse so it’s not quite so plastered to my skin I turn my narrowed accusatory gaze to Pink.
His voice drops, low and husky. “So it is.”
“Pink!” Snapping my retort, I try to cover myself by folding my arms across my body, but his incendiary, intense gaze never falters. Good lord.
I feel the magnetic pull like a cord tied around my waist, drawing me closer to the edge, and just as I’m about to fall, he shrugs, breaking the connection. “Calm yourself, princess. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”
“What?” I stiffen with indignation. I don’t think so.
“Not you specifically, princess. I just mean you’re a woman, and I’ve seen—”
“I don’t doubt that, but you’ve not seen me.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that, Buttercup. I see you very clearly; however, in this instance, I will avert mine eyes.” Holding his palm to shield his eyes, he turns away. I’m grateful but also feel a little silly. I’m still fully clothed. He waits for me to step beside him before we both walk back up the hill to the cabin. His hand shields his view, and when I speak, he opens his fingers, creating enough of a gap to peek through.
“What do you mean you see me? What do you see?”
He draws in a deep breath and I brace. “What food did you bring?”
“Don’t change the subject.”
“I’m not. Food is the only subject.”
Deflated and suddenly needing to know what he means more than I need my next breath, I grab his arm and pull him to an abrupt standstill. He’s close and I have to crane my neck to keep the eye contact. “Pink, please, tell me.” His gaze locks on me, searching my face. His expression troubled, he exhales slowly and closes his eyes. I feel rooted to this spot, breath bated and, with time, seemingly as reluctant to move forward as I am to move away.
“It’s not any of my business, Buttercup. You said yourself, you’ve made your choice, and even if that choice makes you sad, it’s yours. I wouldn’t be telling you anything you don’t already know.”
“Which is?” My gut twists with an invisible knife even before he answers my question. He’s right; I do know this.
“This is your life, Buttercup, and you know that marrying Kurt is a mistake. A big fucking mistake.” The soft delivery of this truth makes hearing the words coming from his mouth so much harder than when I say them to myself. I can’t do this. He’s right about that, too; this isn’t his business.
“Sandwiches.” Thanks to a lifetime of practice, my mask falls easily and eerily back into place. I forget how that must look to someone not used to seeing it. He balks and tilts his head as if seeing me for the first time.
He sees the
real me, I know he does, but what does it matter now?
“Excuse me?”
“Tex-Mex shredded beef sandwiches and apple pie.” I know the smile fixed on my face is flawless. Nevertheless, when he reaches with his thumb and wipes my cheek, I realize he’s catching tears I didn’t feel fall. His knuckles brush my cheek and I can’t breathe. For the second time in as many days, he saves me, and he changes the subject.
“I’ll find you something to change into while your clothes dry.”
“Thank you.”
The river is not far, and it takes no time to make our way back along the footpath and up the hill to the clearing in the woodlands where Grampa built the cabin. I’m relieved that the lunch I brought is where I left it, in a basket under a cloth by the front door and not ransacked by opportunistic wildlife. Stepping onto the porch, I shiver. The change from direct sunlight to the shade prickles my skin with gooseflesh, and the water still trickling from my hair chills me in the light breeze. Pink hooks his shirt over my shoulder and vigorously rubs his strong hands up and down the tops of my arms. Instant heat bursts inside me, and I doubt it has anything to do with friction, given that the source of the burn is nowhere near where he’s touching. It’s deeper and much farther south. What’s wrong with me?
“Come on, princess, let’s get you out of those clothes.” He winks and wiggles his brows playfully.
“You’re funny.”
He holds my gaze. I know he’s only kidding, but I can’t help searching his eyes for… For what Buttercup? What is it you want to see? And what does it matter? Like he said, you’ve made your choice. And this? This is just playing with fire.
“What if I want to burn?”
“What?” he asks, and I would kick myself if it wouldn’t draw even more attention to my Freudian slip. I can’t believe I said that out loud!
“Did you want to get burned? Laying out in the sun like that.” My brain takes over, berating my mouth and mind for momentarily taking the reins. Still, nice recovery, B.
He opens the front door and steps aside to let me walk in first. I pick up the basket as I go. He captures my arm when I pass, relieving me of the basket and placing it on the counter in the kitchen. He takes a quick peek and grins like the Cheshire Cat himself before turning to face me and answer my question.
“I fell asleep. Besides, I don’t burn; I tan. See.” He opens his arms wide and turns so slowly, I swear a little bit of drool pools in the corner of my mouth. A single beam of sunlight seems to bathe him in an ethereal glow. His broad chest rises with a deep breath, and every ripple of muscle on his abdomen is a perfectly sun-kissed color. His muscular shoulders are taut with his arms stretched wide, and his back looks like golden marble. When he finishes his complete turn, it’s a miracle I’m not a liquid mess on the floor, mixing with the water still dripping from my clothes. As it is, I’m speechless, and only when he holds out his finger and tips my mouth closed do I realize I was gawking like a schoolgirl.
I snap my jaw closed and slap his hand away. He chuckles.
“No harm in looking, princess.”
“I wasn’t.” I scoff at the ridiculous lie. My face is aflame, having been caught red-handed or red-faced more like. I fluster, waving an accusing finger, a poor attempt to deflect my shamelessness. “I mean, I…I…you… You said something about dry clothes.”
His lips purse with a sexy, smug, knowing smile. He nods toward the closed door next to the kitchen. “Sure, in there, help yourself.”
“Thanks.” I swallow the dryness and rush toward the sanctuary of his bedroom. Slamming the door with the weight of my back, I slide down and collapse on the floor. Mortified, embarrassed and…horny.
The room smells of him: citrus and sunrise with a mind-messing hint of manliness. The bed is made, and his clothes are unpacked and in neat piles on the storage box at the end of the simple pine bed. There is a book on the floor beside the candle, and the tip of the barrel of a gun is barely visible from behind his tall rucksack in the corner of the room. I’m not a huge fan of firearms; however, it’s very remote here, and we do get mountain lions coming down from the hills from time to time.
Pulling the damp hair away from my face, I shake the residual effects of my mortifying schoolgirl crushing behavior and pull myself to my feet. I slip my wet skirt and shirt off, let them fall to the floor, and walk over to the bed. After smoothing the comforter lightly with my fingertips, before I know what I’m doing, I find myself crawling onto the bed. I’ve lost my mind.
Lying down with my head on his pillow, I close my eyes and breathe him in. My senses tingle to life. His aroma envelops me, soaking into my skin more than any submersion in the deepest river. I can feel him everywhere, and I like it. I want it. I want more. I grip the soft cotton, and turning my head, I breathe deeply into the pillow and imagine.
He’s as close to me as this pillow. His body is molding against mine like this soft mattress accommodates my weight. Heat races across my skin like liquid fire. I move one hand to between my legs, down the front of my panties to where I’m burning, aching and soaked.
Squeezing my eyes tight, I suck back a shocked breath. My fingers slide so easily inside, and with my eyes closed, it’s not so difficult to imagine they aren’t my fingers at all, moving as deftly as they do. My back arches a little at the first ripple of uncontrollable pleasure, and my internal muscles begin to tense and convulse. I roll my hips into my cupped hand and my fingers roll and stroke just where I need, the right pressure and just as I imagine he would do.
“Oh!” The spark of immense pleasure escapes my lips in an audible gasp. I freeze and try to calm my need to draw deep noisy breaths. Blood is rushing in my ears, making hearing anything other than my pounding heart impossible. My climax is poised on the tip of my fingers, and I don’t ever remember feeling this desperate or panicked. I’ve officially lost my mind. I shouldn’t be doing this. Sinking my fingers deep, curling and pressing hard, I explode just as my heart stops.
“Hey, are you okay in there?” The loud knock is nothing to the riot of rushing blood pounding in my ears. I nod which is only marginally less stupid than what I’ve just done. I leap from the bed, pulling my hand from my panties and scowling at it like it had a demon mind all its own.
“I’m fine, just coming.” Wincing at my ironic choice of words. What the heck is wrong with me? “Give me a second.” I quickly and carefully pick through Pink’s clothes trying to find something suitable. I take a white t-shirt from the pile just as the door behind me swings open. Noooooo!
I do this twisting tree maneuver with my arms and legs crossing trying to hide all my bits. The t-shirt is scrunched across my breasts, and I can’t decide where best to use its coverage. I keep switching between my groin and my boobs.
“What the heck, Pink!”
“Sorry, you were taking so long, I thought you might’ve gotten trapped or something.” His brow furrows and he casts the quickest glance around the room. I wish he’d spend more time looking around the room because, when he focuses back on me, I feel his heated glare on every inch of my exposed body.
“Trapped? By what exactly?” I fluster.
“I don’t know. A bear?”
“We don’t have bears. Besides, there’s a gun right there.” I point to the corner and instantly regret it. Pink’s eyes widen at the fresh flash of flesh. He coughs to clear his throat.
“Maybe a spider then?” His lips quirk, a wolfish grin spreads slowly across his handsome face.
“No spiders.,”
“Right.” His throat bobs and I find I’m struggling with the same lump. The hand in the pocket of his jeans moves and he shifts from one foot to the other. Maybe not the same lump.
“You can go now.” Ground, swallow me, please.
“Right, sorry.” He backs out of the doorway. I jump across the room to close the door the instant he has turned and his feet are clear of the threshold. I have the T-shirt over my head before I’ve take another breath. There’s a pair
of light sweatpants or they could be pajama bottoms folded over the end of the bed, and I hop-jump myself into them. They are massive, and I have to twist and knot the waistband to stop them falling down, but they are at least covering me up. I can’t believe he saw me almost naked. Kurt hasn’t even seen me naked, not completely.
“Oh, she’s awake.” I pad quietly over to where Pink is feeding Daisy. She’s eager and more concerned with guzzling the milk than she is about me coming close. I kneel on the couch so I can rest my arms on the back and watch more closely. The small sectioned off area is perfect for now, but she will need more space the better she gets. Milk bubbles at the corner of her mouth and drips onto Pink’s lap. “She’s got an appetite, that’s good.”
“She likes her food, just like her papa.” He strokes her ear, and I swear my heart explodes. It’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen. It’s mesmerizing, and it takes a moment too long for the intonation of his words to sink in.
“Very subtle. I get it. I get it. You need feeding.” I laugh at his deadpan look, but I also move to fix the food I brought over. “The beef is cold, but the pie should still be warm.”
I wash my hands and begin to plate up our lunch, pouring some lemonade in the glasses I brought, and when he’s finished with Daisy, I bring the plates over to the couch. It’s too small for us both, and I like that that doesn’t stop him squishing in beside me. Balancing his plate on his lap, his large thigh is pressed against mine and suddenly I’m not so hungry anymore.
“This is good.” His mouth is full and the appreciative rumble of approval makes me happy.
“I’m glad.” He eyes me with mock suspicion as I sip my drink.
“You’re not eating? It’s not poisoned, is it?”
“After that stunt, it should at least be laced with laxatives,” I counter. “But no, it’s not poisoned. I’m just not very hungry.”
