He laughed. “Best crash ever, man.” He reached out a fist to Ram. “You’re a lucky motherfucker, bro.” With that, he stood with one foot on a pedal, swinging on and propelling himself into movement in a single, practiced motion, clicking his other foot into the pedal as he sped away up the hill.
When they were gone again, I let my hands drop, and burst into laughter. “Oh my god. I can’t believe that just happened.”
Ram was grinning. “I mean, it’s not that hard to believe.”
“No?” I asked.
Ram shrugged. “I mean, not really. Men are pretty easily hypnotized by tits, you know. Even totally average tits will make us zone out. A big ol’ pair of perfect knockers like yours? I’m pretty sure you could turn a gay guy straight with those. A straight guy? We’re helpless.”
I snorted, rolling my eyes even as I blushed and suppressed an embarrassingly breathy giggle of flattered glee. “You’re so dumb, Ram. Seriously. They’re literally just breasts.”
“They’re literally just the most amazing breasts I’ve ever seen.” He grinned. “And babe, I’ve seen more than my fair share. Trust me on that.”
“Aaaand then you ruin it with that comment.”
“What? It’s just the truth.” He gestured at my chest. “And those are easily the most attractive pair I’ve ever seen. It’s a compliment.”
“Wrapped in chauvinistic braggadocio.” I reached out, grabbed his wrist, and looked at his watch. “Has it been a mile yet?”
That was a miscalculation—grabbing his wrist like that put me within touching distance. He stared down at me, at my hand on his thick wrist. His eyebrow arched, and a smirk crossed his face.
I lifted my chin. “Don’t you dare.”
“Don’t I dare what?” he asked.
“Do what I think you’re about to do.”
He leaned closer, so his forehead brushed mine, his lips ghosting teasingly over mine. “What is it you think I’m going to do?”
If I said it, I’d sound ridiculous. Pathetic. Like I had something to worry about, like I was scared of him.
He pulled back, that stupid sexy mysterious irritating smirk on his face. He bent, slowly, so there was no missing his intention. Both of his big hard hands cupped my breasts and lifted them—I gasped, a sharp, aroused inhalation. My mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. I meant to tell him to stop, to not touch me, but I couldn’t.
His lips closed over my nipple, the left one, suckling gently, and then his tongue fluttered over it and circled it, and I felt my nipples hardening to diamond points of aching arousal. He shifted to the other breast and paid the same homage to it, sucking the thick, pink aching nipple into his mouth, kissing, nuzzling, licking.
And then he backed away, straightening and grabbing the straps of his pack as if to prevent himself from going any further.
Which, at that particular moment, I may not have minded.
He sucked in a deep breath, and then reached out, tugged my bra and shirt back into place, covering me. “It’s been two miles.” He grinned. “My bad.”
“I knew it!” I shouted. “I knew it felt like more than a mile!” I whacked his arm. “You jerk!”
He smirked, shrugged. “I lost track.”
I glared at him. “Bullshit.”
“Like I said—hypnotizing. I swear—I lost track.”
“You have a watch that keeps track for you.”
“Doesn’t do any good if you don’t look at it.”
I stared. “I asked you if it had been a mile! You said no, it’s been half a mile.”
“It was half a mile…then. We walked a ways after that, and I got so distracted by the sight of your boobs that I forgot to keep track of the distance.”
I shook my head. “Dick.”
He just laughed. “Guilty as charged.”
“You sound almost proud of it.”
“Once again, you’re getting pissy because I turned you on, and you hate that I can have that power over you.”
I narrowed my eyes at him in aggravation. “You do not have power over me, toolbag.”
“Do too.”
“Do not.”
He sighed. “Do I have to prove it?”
“Yeah, you do.” I lifted my chin proudly, defiantly.
Stupidly.
Because I knew, deep down, that he absolutely did have power over me, at least in that respect.
Plus, making him prove it could be fun. Disastrous emotionally, but fun. And I mean, if the worst thing I get out of this business with Ram is an achy, breaky heart? Well…I’ve survived worse. I’d be fine.
“Ohhhh man, you are gonna eat those words, sweet cheeks.” He patted me on the butt as he moved past me and continued up the trail.
“I’m not the one who’s eaten something today,” I muttered.
He just laughed. “No, and damn right.” He licked his lips. “You ready for another go around? I’m getting a little peckish.”
Shit, shit, shit.
Everything kept backfiring.
I waved a hand at the trail. “Just walk, Ramsey,” I snapped. “I’m ready to set up camp, and you promised me fresh fish.”
He chuckled. “After all this hiking we’ve been doing, I’m not sure how fresh your fish is at this point, but I don’t mind. I’ll still eat it till you scream.”
I howled a wordless shriek of annoyance, and whacked him across the chest again as I stormed past him. “YOU ARE SO FUCKING ANNOYING!”
His only answer was another satisfied chuckle.
7
Ramsey
God, it was way too much fucking fun messing with her. Everything about her was sexy, funny, and arousing. Just watching her hike fully clothed gave me a goddamn semi, but those two miles she walked with her tits hanging out? My balls ached and my cock was so hard it hurt. I don’t think she’d noticed, mainly because I’d done my best to direct her attention away from it.
For one thing, I hadn’t been with a girl in two months—I’d been focused on helping out with the saloon, helping Rome get things tightened up so I could step away and figure my own life out. Two months without sex? In my world, that was a fucking eternity. Or rather, an eternity without fucking.
And, truth be told, when I took care of things with the aid of lotion and Kleenex, it was always Izzy I’d imagined.
Or, more accurately, remembered.
That day in the hospital had been the best day of my life. I’d gone for a walk with her hoping to maybe get lucky, get a dirty quickie with her in the janitor’s closet. Push that hot little skirt of hers up and fuck her up against a wall or something. Get a little taste of all that strawberry blonde hotness, and be done with it. If I saw her again, I’d been convinced it’d be a polite nod at each other, in a distant sort of way. I really hadn’t expected Rome and Kitty to last, and I certainly hadn’t expected Rem to shack up with Juneau, or for them to last either.
But they’d both made what seemed to be lasting, monogamous, long-term commitments to those girls, thus leaving them to wonder why Izzy and I had never got together. Little did they know.
But, the thing was I had no interest in settling down. No interest in romance or commitment. I was a wanderer. An outdoorsman. My life was out here, on the trail, far from people.
Especially soft, spoiled city girls.
Except Izzy was proving she wasn’t soft at all. She’d hiked with me all damn day, carrying a pretty heavy pack, and hadn’t complained about it once. She kept up, too—albeit our pace was slow as we weren’t in a hurry.
Right now, for example, she was up ahead of me again, arms swinging, legs churning away on the trail, head on a swivel, taking in the incredible view all around us. The mountain was closer than ever, towering in snow-capped majesty over us, visible through the trees and above them. The creek chuckled noisily, birds chirped and cawed and screeched, squirrels chattered.
I caught a glimpse of something on the trail up ahead, a hint of brown fur, and I trotted to catch up wi
th Izzy. I grabbed her arm and pulled her back, putting my finger to my lips.
Her eyes widened, those hazel-green pools betraying fear. “Another bear?” she whispered. “I thought we were supposed to be loud?”
I shook my head, finger over my lips, and crept forward. She followed, doing an admirable job at creeping as quietly as she could. We reached the end of the curve in the trail and, less than twenty feet away, standing head high in the center of the trail was massive bull elk with a spread of antlers at least six feet in diameter. It was munching on something; glancing around with bright, alert black eyes, jaw moving.
Izzy’s breath caught audibly, and I watched her hand cover her mouth in amazement. “Wow…” she whispered under her breath. “He’s….huge.”
“Bull elk,” I whispered. “Too bad it’s not hunting season.” I mimed raising a rifle to my shoulder and firing.
“You wouldn’t shoot him, would you?”
I just smirked. “Sure would…in season. Not for sport, though—for meat, for the fur, and for the antlers.”
She shook her head. “Take a picture. It’ll last longer.”
He heard us, then, or smelled us. His head swiveled, and he spotted us, freezing. His tail twitched. His nose wrinkled, flared.
And then, with a single leap, he was gone, nearly a thousand pounds vanishing in near silence, barely a rustle of leaves to mark his passage.
“So beautiful,” Izzy murmured, still quiet even though he was gone. “I can’t believe you’d shoot something that majestic.”
“He was gorgeous, wasn’t he?”
It was late afternoon by this point, and I could tell Izzy was reaching the end of her day, as far as hiking was concerned. Her feet were dragging, her steps were slow, and she was constantly adjusting the pack, trying to find a way to make the weight more comfortable. I reminded myself that she’d never hiked before, so even though I could have kept going for a few more hours without any issue, it was time to stop for the day for her sake.
I checked the map of the trail, compared it to the coordinates on my GPS unit, and reckoned we were only another mile or so from a camping spot. While I was figuring our position, Izzy was rolling her shoulders and stretching her back and adjusting the straps. I showed her the map, pointing at one spot.
“We’re about here,” I said, and then pointed at the campground. “This is our first camping spot. Not far now. You gonna make it?”
She sighed. “Well, camping here isn’t an option, I don’t think, so yeah, I’ll make it.”
“You need a longer rest?”
She shook her head. “Nah. I’d rather just push on and get there.”
I smacked her gently on the ass. “Atta girl.”
She frowned at me. “Stop patting me on the butt. This isn’t football, and I’m not your girlfriend. It’s demeaning.”
“It’s not demeaning, it’s affectionate. Plus, I just like touching your butt.”
She rolled her eyes, shook her head, and sighed. “No kidding. But I’m telling you, no patting.”
I smacked harder. “How about if it’s too hard to be considered a pat?”
She shoved at me. “No, you dick. No touching the butt at all.”
I pouted, sticking out my lip. “No touching the butt? Not at all?”
She tried to stifle a laugh, but couldn’t. “God, you’re ridiculous.”
“Does that mean I can still touch the butt?”
“No, Ram. No touching the butt.”
I harrumphed. “Fine.” I crossed my arms over my chest trying to look dramatic. “But that’s a stupid rule and I hate it.”
She cackled. “You’re such a twelve-year-old.” She flounced back into motion, heading down the trail. “Touching the butt is a privilege you haven’t earned yet.”
“How do I earn it?”
“You’ll know when you do.”
“I will? How?”
She just shot me a sizzling, sarcastic smirk. “Oh, you’ll just know. Trust me on that.”
I followed her, hungrily watching that which I was not yet allowed to touch. Despite having touched it more than once already…and having eaten her pussy till she screamed.
But, no. No touching the perfect ass.
Fine. Whatever.
I was being ridiculous and I knew it, but it made her laugh, and hearing her laugh was worth it.
Plus, her phrasing indicated that I would earn that privilege, not that I merely could.
Yippee-ki-yay, motherfucker—I’mma touch the butt.
She eyed me. “What the hell are you grinning about?”
I shrugged, pulling an innocent face. “Nothing.”
“Ram.”
“What?”
“What are you grinning about?”
I gestured around us. “Being out here in this beautiful world, on a gorgeous day, with a sexy, funny woman who at the very least doesn’t hate me…what else do I need to be happy?”
She had no response to that, which I took as a victory.
At long last, we reached the campsite, which was, to my happiness, empty. We might possibly get company later in the evening, but most folks used this trail as a day trip, whether biking or hiking, so I was hopeful we’d have it to ourselves. I chose the best site, tucked back under the canopy of trees and well off the trail with a nice fire ring. There was a soft bed of pine needles on the ground, which would make for great sleeping, too. I shucked my pack and immediately began setting up the tent. I gave Izzy a few minutes to rest and stretch, and then gestured her over.
“Ever set up a tent?” I asked.
She rolled her eyes. “What do you think?”
I laughed. “I know, I’m teasing.” I gestured at the woods. “Can you collect some wood for our campfire? Stay close to the campsite, within shouting distance of me.”
“What kind of wood?”
I stared, confused. “Um…any kind. It doesn’t matter, it all burns the same.”
She huffed. “No, I meant how big? Like, how big should the sticks be?”
I laughed. “Oh. Doesn’t matter. Whatever you can carry in your arms. I mean, don’t collect, like tiny little twigs or giant branches. Just kindling.”
“I don’t know what kindling is.”
“You’ve never had a bonfire? Never watched anyone build a fire?”
She shrugged. “I mean, sure. I’ve been around bonfires a few times, but I’ve never paid attention to how it was built.”
I sighed, shaking my head. “City girls, man.” I set down the poles I was sorting and assembling and found a two-foot long, thumb-thick piece of deadfall. “About like this. Bigger is fine, smaller is fine. Like I said, just don’t bother with tiny or huge. And don’t stray too far.”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t stray? What am I, a dog?”
I gazed at her levelly. “Izzy, do you remember the bear?” I gestured at the bear lockers in a line to one side of the campground. “What do you think those are for?”
“So no one steals your stuff?”
“It’s a bear locker,” I said. “You put your food in there so bears don’t tear your shit apart looking for snacks.”
“They’ll do that?”
I laughed. “God, you’ve really never been camping, have you? Yes, bears are notorious for getting into food and garbage. They’re basically huge raccoons. They’ll climb into dumpsters and eat garbage, and they’ll tear entire campgrounds to shreds if they catch a whiff of anything remotely edible.”
“Oh.”
“Just because this is a place designated as a campsite for people doesn’t mean bears won’t come here. They don’t know it’s a campground. It’s in the middle of their forest. There’s no magical bear-proof forcefield.” I grabbed my bear spray out of my bag and handed it to her. “Bear spray. Just in case.”
“Now I’m scared.”
I laughed. “It’ll be fine. You’ll make enough noise tromping around looking for wood that any bears within a mile will hear you coming and run off
before you even know they’re there. But, sometimes, they’ll surprise you, so I just want you to be, you know…alert and aware.”
She hesitated. “If a bear eats me, I’m going to haunt you forever. I hope you know that.”
“It wouldn’t eat you, most likely,” I said. “It would just rip you up a bit and run off.”
“Wow. You’re really making me feel a lot better about this, Ram, thanks.”
I laughed. “You’ll be fine. Sing a song.”
She sighed. “Fine. But don’t laugh at my singing.”
I held up my hands. “Hey, I can’t carry a tune in a bucket even if you carried the bucket for me, so I’m not one to judge, trust me.”
She headed off into the woods behind our campsite, and I heard her singing—I recognized a Lady Gaga tune, one of those ubiquitous songs you can’t get away from that end up stuck in your head for days. She had a sweet voice, high and clear, and despite telling me not to laugh, I thought she sounded great.
I had the tent set up within a few minutes, and made sure the rain shelter was stowed where I could get to it easily in case of a sudden rain shower. I checked the fire ring, making sure there wasn’t any trash or debris in it, and then grabbed my hatchet and followed the sound of Izzy’s voice. I found her not far away, with an armload of kindling, singing “Once Upon A Dream” from Sleeping Beauty.
With her long, shimmery strawberry blonde hair gleaming in the afternoon sun, she could’ve been Aurora. I surprised her by joining in the song, just like in the Disney classic.
She startled, gasping. “You scared me.”
“Sorry.” I smiled at her. “I’m not sure why you told me not to laugh—you have a beautiful voice.”
She shrugged. “Thanks, I guess.”
“Wouldn’t have taken you for a Disney songs sorta chick, though.”
She resumed her hunt for kindling while I found a long, thick piece of deadfall and started hacking the smaller branches off it.
“My mom used to sing songs from the old classics all the time. She’d float around the house, cleaning or cooking or whatever, just singing. She had the most beautiful voice.” She was quiet, almost reverent.
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