Fuck. Clearly he was going to spend the entire night yelling at his dick to stay down.
“So what about your family?” Abbi asked, which at least helped get his mind off that track.
“Wow, a question in return?” Tyler feigned surprise. “It’s like you actually want to get to know me. My dad’s a lawyer who lives in Palo Alto with his wife, who by the way used to be his secretary. They have twin girls, starting at Berkeley in the fall, and my mom’s in—” Tyler frowned. “North Carolina? South? She moves around a lot, it’s hard to keep track.”
“So then yeah, that’s why you got into wildfires,” Abbi said.
“What are you talking about?”
“Isn’t your whole job to save people? If you’re always needed, it’s like you’re never alone.”
Jesus Christ.
Was this what he’d wanted? To tell Abbi all his dirty little secrets, how no one in his family had wanted him? How he’d become a firefighter precisely so he’d never be that little kid again?
Of course he knew it was true. Aidan was the one who’d first called him out on it, worried Tyler might not take care of himself.
“Risking your life isn’t going to bring anyone close to you,” Aidan had warned.
And Tyler had dutifully said, “Of course not,” and, “That’s not why I’m here,” and hoped Aidan wouldn’t ask again about when he’d last lied.
How had Abbi found his sore spots so quickly, when other times he hid them so well?
But it wasn’t Tyler’s only secret. It had nothing to do with Scotty, how his best friend had run into the fire when Tyler should have been calling him back. When it was Tyler’s fault Scott had been in the blaze in the first place.
He turned, looking away, and Abbi might have thought it was because of what she’d said. But no matter what did—or didn’t—happen between them, there were some things she didn’t need to know.
…
Abbi waited for Tyler to go on. Wasn’t he the one who’d started this whole getting-to-know-you routine in the first place?
But just when it seemed like he was opening up, she watched him shut down right in front of her eyes.
She wanted to reach out her hand. She wanted to ask what was wrong. But he wasn’t her boyfriend. And he was leaving in six—no, now it was five weeks. Which meant they needed to stop playing twenty questions right now. Sex with no strings attached meant no family talk, no secrets, no whispers in the dark. No hopes. No fears. No getting to the truth of who they were.
She could tell him about the easy things, even mention boarding school and New Hampshire. But he didn’t need to know that underneath her clothes and hair and all her talk she was just some mousy kid from Seattle who’d cried herself to sleep the whole first year in the dorms.
Who’d cried, alone, until someone came along to save her.
She stood up. This conversation was over. They cleaned up in silence and hung their supplies to keep food away from bears. Then Abbi grabbed her things from her tent and stepped away to get ready for bed.
It wasn’t late, but it was dark, clouds had rolled in, and she was exhausted from the early start and the grueling day. She brushed her teeth, popped a squat, and made her way through the dark to the tents.
She heard him rustling about and gave him a minute to settle in first. Running into each other before bed seemed like a bad idea. Ask him something about the firebreak, she goaded herself, to be prepared in case she had to see him with his hair disheveled, T-shirt off, sleepiness in his eyes. Anything to remind them both why their quiet talk in the darkness couldn’t be real.
She was steeling herself against having to see him again when she heard a clatter and a loud curse, followed by a groan.
Instinct kicked in, making her run to him.
“Tyler?” she called. “Where are you? Are you okay?”
She shined her flashlight in the vicinity of the cursing. The light picked up the face of Tyler just as she’d imagined it—messy hair, sleepy eyes, twelve more hours of stubble on his jaw.
It also showed her tent, the top bending to the side like a broken limb hanging off what used to be a sturdy frame.
Now it was her turn to run through a litany of words that would make her mother blush. “What the hell happened?”
“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I was going back to my tent and didn’t turn on my flashlight. I wasn’t paying attention and I tripped right over your stakes.” He paused. “I guess my night vision isn’t as good as I thought.”
She couldn’t help it. She laughed at the reminder of what she’d asked him their first night.
“Are you okay?”
“Me? Yeah. But your tent, not so much.”
She inspected the damage. It was too bad Tyler was a giant. The pole that ran up the side had crumpled under his weight. The one that arced over the top, holding the entire thing up, was so bent it no longer fit in place. The fabric draped uselessly down the side. “What’d you do, tackle the poor thing?”
“I didn’t expect it to be so flimsy,” he said sheepishly.
“You’re a two-hundred-pound firefighter. If we see bears, remind me to hide behind you.”
Tyler laughed. “Like you’d hide behind anybody.”
“Bears?” Abbi said. “For that one, I’d let you go first.”
“Take my tent,” Tyler said. “I’ll sleep outside.”
She clucked her tongue. “And women say chivalry is dead.”
But as they were swapping out their sleeping bags, she felt a drop on her head, and then another. She held up her palm. Of course the one time they got rain had to be tonight.
“Are you still standing by that offer?” she asked.
Tyler groaned. “I’ll take the crappy tent. It’s my fault it’s messed up.”
“You can’t sleep in there. It’s the smallest size tent they sell—I bet your feet won’t even fit in.”
“I’ll be cozy,” he said.
“And the rain tarp isn’t going to latch on with the frame bent like that.”
“So we’re back to my original plan,” he said. “You sleep in my tent.”
“And you?” she asked.
“I sleep in my tent, too.”
Abbi had to raise an eyebrow at that. “Are you sure you didn’t bust my tent on purpose?”
But the rain was picking up. She could hear the patter on the leaves, feel the cold seeping through her clothes, suddenly embarrassingly thin.
What could she do but say yes?
Tyler’s tent was larger, but there wasn’t room for two sleeping bags side by side. They decided to unzip them, spreading one on the ground and the other on top as though making a regular bed.
Albeit more like a twin bed, on the hard ground, with a shirt balled up as a pillow and everything damp and heated in the close quarters of the tent.
Some nights, Abbi wondered why she did this. It wasn’t for the money or prestige.
But then Tyler crawled into the tent, leaving his boots under the rain flap, and she wouldn’t have traded this moment for a night at the Ritz. Unless Tyler was also there, muscles outlined in his clinging T-shirt, shaking droplets from his hair.
She slid over, wishing her shirt wasn’t so see-through and wet. She’d had to change outside in the rain, sliding on shorts and a fresh T-shirt. And the lacy underwear. It was in her pack, so she should use it—right? Like she could really pretend it was just to sleep in clean clothes and had nothing to do with the tent she was now in, or the person she was sharing it with.
“I don’t bite,” Tyler said in the darkness as he lay down.
“There’s no room.”
He pulled back the top sleeping bag so she could climb in. “Unless you’re planning on sleeping sitting up,” he said.
She got under the blanket. There was no place to go but up against his rock-hard body, warm and wet from outside.
She knew she shouldn’t be doing this. The darkness didn’t change anything between them.
&nb
sp; But all she could think as she lay on his chest was that she hoped the rain was going to last all night.
Chapter Ten
“I feel like I’m in college again,” Abbi said. “On those little dorm beds.”
“No roommates this time.”
“Or neighbors.”
“Or anyone for fifty miles in any direction.”
“Guess I’m stuck with you.”
“I hope that’s not the worst part of this weekend.”
He felt her shift against him. Closer, though. Since there was no getting away.
There was nowhere for her to go, no way for them not to be touching. But she could have pressed close to the edge of the tent. She didn’t have to swing one leg over his. She didn’t have to rest her cheek on his shoulder so there was nothing for his arm to do but wrap around her.
“Your shirt got all wet,” he said.
Not like he minded the way it clung to her, letting him feel every curve against his body.
But then she said, “Maybe you should take it off me,” and he didn’t want that fucking T-shirt anywhere near them. All he wanted was Abbi shifting to lie on top of him, Abbi with her silken mouth on his.
He’d decided the gentlemanly thing would be to sleep in a T-shirt, boxers, and shorts. But Abbi wasted no time taking everything off. She teased her fingers over his chest, his hips, skimming his cock. His balls tightened in her palm.
But he had no time for teasing. This had to happen now, before either one of them had a chance to change their mind.
He yanked off her T-shirt and unhooked her bra. He slid off her shorts and felt something soft and lacy hugging her ass. He grabbed the little string of fabric in his fist and pulled.
“What the fuck is this?” His voice was a growl, his cock too hard for words.
“Surprise,” she whispered, and ground her hips against his.
Fuck.
She’d planned this. She knew it was the only way they could do this again, if they were alone in the darkness with nothing wrenching them apart.
He wanted to tear those panties off her with his teeth, but there wasn’t room in the tent to maneuver. With a hand around her backside, he pulled that flimsy lace to the side and coaxed a finger inside her.
“That’s it,” he whispered as her legs widened, drawing him deeper. He added another finger, her body soft and warm, so yielding as she let him in.
Her arms clung around his neck as she whimpered in his ear. He knew he wasn’t the only one who hadn’t been able to stop thinking about their night in the field. She’d been craving this for a week, and now her body was primed to let go.
He could have kept giving it to her just like that. He could have added another finger and felt her come right in his hand.
But he pulled out, and she gave a frustrated cry. He didn’t want to give her everything she wanted, now did he?
Slowly, making sure she was watching, he brought his fingers to his mouth. Here was the proof that she wanted him. No matter what she said, or how much she’d pretended to put on a show last night, her body gave everything away.
Her tongue came to him and he pressed his fingers into her mouth as they kissed, tasting the sweetness between them. But this time when his hand slid down, he rested the tip of his index finger lightly over the fabric between her thighs, withholding any relief.
“What do you want?” he asked.
“Fuck me,” she panted.
“That’s it?”
“Come on, Tyler.” She was squirming harder against him, but he pulled his hand just far enough away.
“Say it,” he whispered.
She might have agreed to anything just to relieve the ache he knew was building between her legs. But he didn’t think so. Not with the way her voice hitched, the way she ground against him.
“I want you.” Her fist wrapped around his cock. “I want you, Tyler.” Up and down, taking the first drops of pre-come and working it over every solid inch. “And I want you to fuck me.”
“Hard?” he asked. “Or soft?” His finger teased her opening as her hand continued pumping him.
“Hard,” she said. “Please. Don’t be gentle with me.”
He plunged two fingers inside her and stroked. She pushed her hips down to meet him, taking him all the way. Just as deep as she wanted.
“There?” he asked.
“Oh God,” she moaned, and pressed into him. “There.”
It had been unbearable to stand so close to her at the farmers market, to graze her ass but know he couldn’t touch. Not for real; not the way he wanted to.
But in the dark, listening to the rain, there was no Russ, no Walker or Chip, no firebreak keeping them apart. He felt so full in her hand. He was going to lose himself all over her stomach, all over that sexy lace hugging her skin.
His hips rose up and down, fucking her fist more than she was jerking him off. She moved with him, his fingers inside her, her clit pressing against his hip bone. He couldn’t wait, he couldn’t stop, he was going to—
Her hand left him and he was strung through, electric with need. He felt her move away, heard a zipper from somewhere in the tent. A crinkle. Her low, sexy laugh. And then the slide of a condom on his cock.
Abbi could race ahead of him on the trail and shield her notes so he had no idea what she was working on. She could tell them they were nothing, a one-time deal. Like she didn’t feel a thing when they were together in public. Like they were over before they’d begun.
But this was no accident, her insisting she stick with him for the walkthrough, the way they’d wound up together tonight. He wondered what would have happened if he hadn’t broken her tent. But he had to believe that they’d have found a way.
Because she was straddling him, she was bringing herself down on his cock, and he was up to the hilt, enveloped in warmth. Her breasts glided over his chest, her hair falling in his face. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders as she began rocking into him.
The tent was so cramped, all he could do was let himself be taken. And he wanted to be taken. He wanted to feel her wanting, her use of his body for her pleasure, her squirms and moans and sighs as she switched rhythms, moving from fast to slow and speeding up again, pressing his cock against the place she needed as he moved in and out and tried not to lose it too soon.
“That’s it,” he urged her. “Make it feel good.”
Whatever she wanted—whatever she took from him. He would give it to her.
She moaned as he thrust into her. “You’re so deep.”
“Come on my cock. Make yourself come on my cock.”
She whimpered, tightening around his shaft so that he thought he was going to explode.
“I can feel how close you are.”
She panted in his ear, yes and harder, her thighs tight around him, her hips moving fast and hard.
“Use me to come. Just go for it. Let go and come all over me.”
He wanted it more than anything, her orgasm and the feeling that she couldn’t deny it, couldn’t stop herself from falling over the edge. The knowledge that no matter how much she tried to convince herself otherwise, she couldn’t stop herself from wanting him. Knowing he was the one making her pant like this, making her hips move, her body tighten before the release.
There was no mistaking when it happened. Hard and tight and fast, pulsing, her body arcing over him. Slide of skin against skin, slick with sweat, her hands in his hair. Her cheek pressed tight to his.
“You,” she panted, as though she couldn’t form words. “I want you to—”
He flipped her over, covering her. “I will.”
His hands around her hips. Her body, this incredible, strong body that had powered her up the trail, along the ridge, taken her all the way here, suddenly soft in his hands.
“Is this okay?” he asked her, feeling how she’d tightened after her orgasm.
“Use me to come,” she whispered, running her fingernails over his back, and his own words thrown back at him—
he lost it.
She spread her thighs, tilting up her hips so all he had to do was drive once, twice, hard into her and he was gone. He exploded inside her, releasing everything pent up from the last week, everything his own hand hadn’t been able to satisfy as he thought about her.
The things that hurt. The ways he’d failed. Everything he’d carried with him to Gold Mountain, unable to escape.
For a second, for a night, that was everything he was able to let go of when he collapsed on top of her, panting, and she held him in her arms.
Chapter Eleven
It didn’t change anything. That’s what Abbi told herself when she woke up in his arms.
It wasn’t like they hadn’t slept together before. And just because now they’d slept together didn’t mean they were…actually together.
Or that they hadn’t come to walk the ridgeline for completely different reasons.
Or that anything between them changed the fact that he was leaving on August nineteenth, no matter what they pretended to anyone else.
Which meant whatever this was—and it wasn’t anything, not really—she had to stop looking at him that way.
The rain hadn’t lasted very long and the dry ground, so starved for water, had already soaked everything in. Clouds were lifting in great white waves from the peaks. Looking out at the view, thinking about the wildfire threat, Abbi reminded herself to stay focused. There was still so much she had to do.
But it was hard when Tyler looked even better than if he’d come to her freshly showered, smelling of aftershave and shampoo rather than pine needles and earth.
Harder still when he kissed her, brought her coffee, and rubbed his hands over her arms to keep her warm in the chilly morning air.
She wanted to grab the GPS from his hands and smash it against the rocks. She wanted to call off work and spend the whole day lounging at the campsite. Couldn’t they stay up here forever, without the rest of the world having to intrude?
Then she saw Tyler flip through his notes and knew that it didn’t matter what he’d panted in her ear last night. How he’d demanded to know what she wanted and she’d answered with the truth: him.
Make Me Want (Men of Gold Mountain) Page 7
