by Molly Wens
"Bryce, why do you constantly try to intimidate me? We both know you won't do anything to hurt me. I know you care about me. It's written all over your face whenever you look at me. I may not be a genius, but I do know when a man looks at me the way you do that he wants me, and not just for sex either. Did you ever stop to think that I might have the same feelings for you? Now, sit down. One way or another, that beard is going to at least get a good trimming."
Stunned, Bryce could only comply, wondering if what she said could be true. Could she actually care about him? Would she still care if she knew the truth? He knew the answer to that as he nervously sat facing her, breath held, waiting for her to start cutting away the safety of his mask.
"You can breathe, you know,” she laughed softly. “I won't cut your nose off or anything."
The air left his lungs in a rush, lifting her hair and making her laugh again. The sound of it was musical and soft, and had him wanting to throw her down on the kitchen table and ravish her. “I'm glad I amuse you,” he grumped.
"Well, you're a funny guy,” she retorted, making the first snip. By the time she was done cutting, he was covered in the thick, coarse hair of his beard.
"All done,” she said brightly. “That wasn't so bad, was it?” Standing back to see her handy-work she was struck by the pure manly beauty of him that caused butterflies to stir in her belly.
He watched her face as she appraised him, seeing his own burning hunger reflected in her eyes. Feeling with his fingers, he discovered just how close she had cropped his facial hair. There was not much left. The question of whether she would still find him desirable if she could see the damning scars played over and over in his mind until he found himself handing her the antique razor from the box.
"Finish it,” he said, meeting her gaze directly.
She smiled brightly, but the smile soon gave way to a worried frown. “Um, are you sure you want me to do this? I've never wielded one of these things, you know."
"I trust you,” he answered, his voice soft and husky.
Digging the strop out of the bottom of the box of toiletries, she hooked it on the back of his chair, dragging the blade of the razor repeatedly along the length of it. Bryce cringed inwardly with each metallic sound of the cutting edge being sharpened. Something akin to an icy fist seemed to be clenching around his heart, tightening with each passing moment.
At long last, Carissa laid the razor on the table in front of him and asked, “What should I use for lather?"
Bryce stood, grabbing the bar of soap off the edge of the sink and breaking off a chunk. He dropped it in the shaving cup and added hot water from the kettle before using the small shaving brush to work up a foamy lather. “I used to watch my grandfather do this when I was a kid. It always used to amaze me. I don't know why."
"Because you were a kid and he was your gramps,” she offered.
"That must be it,” he said, handing her the cup with a slightly shaky hand.
She took it from him asking, “Am I supposed to wrap your face in a hot towel first?"
"Just get it over with,” he grumbled as he closed his eyes.
Letting out a small giggle, she brushed the lather over his beard in increments until all the black hair was covered. Carissa took a deep breath then pushed his face slightly to the side before dragging the blade down his right cheek.
As she moved to wipe the spent shavings onto a towel, he tried to think of something to distract his mind from his ragged nerves. “So, how did you learn to cook so well on a wood burner?” he asked by way of making conversation.
She smiled into his eyes before taking another swipe with the blade. “My grandparents had a farm back in the boonies, my dad's parents. My gram was an incredible person and I loved being in her kitchen, always so warm and smelled so good. It was a huge house. It housed twelve kids. Can you imagine? What a huge family. They had a coal furnace, one bathroom and very basic wiring. When I was little, my aunts and uncles got together and were going to remodel her kitchen. She nearly went through the roof."
Carissa laughed at the memory as she finished the right side of his throat and moved on to his mustache. “She loved to cook on a wood fire. She told them she would take the plumbing and the new refrigerator, though. She told me later that she would have rather had ‘one o'dem newfangled clothes washers and a drying machine'. She was a funny woman. She taught me everything about cooking and canning. Her bread and blackberry cobbler were the best in the world."
"You loved her a lot, didn't you?” he mumbled as she finished off his chin.
"Don't talk or you'll end up with a nasty gash,” she admonished, stopping to sharpen the blade again. “Yes, she was wonderful. It seemed like she knew everything about the woods. None of my cousins was ever interested but she always took me with her when she went out to gather the wild food. We gathered nuts and picked berries, wild mushrooms and may apples. We also gathered herbs, roots and bark for what she called her ‘healin’ potions."
"She had all these old glass bottles and jars, all different colors, full of every elixir, tonic and powder you can imagine. People came from all over to get her remedies. She never turned anyone away, whether they could pay or not. They made fun of her, sometimes, because of her moccasins and braids but she didn't care. She would just point out what was funny about their clothes or hair and they would all laugh."
"Are you telling me that you're a half-breed?” he asked with a playful smirk.
"Careful there, Grizzly. You're mighty daring for a man whose throat is at the mercy of my blade,” she warned, mockingly brandishing the razor.
He held up his hands in a half-hearted attempt to play the game, but waiting for her to discover what was hidden under the remaining hair on his face was nerve-wracking at best. He had no way of knowing at that point that Carissa had found what she saw so far to be very much to her liking, or that she was daydreaming about being kissed by the sensual lips that were now visible. The only thing he knew was the fear that the destroyed left side of his face would repulse her. He took another deep breath, anticipating the disgust he would see in her eyes, or worse, pity.
"You're going to have to hold very still. This side is a bit rough and I don't want to nick you,” she warned softly as she laid the blade to his skin. “Anyway, yes, gram was a Cherokee. Gramps was a bull-headed German, fresh off the boat, when they met. He used to talk about how beautiful she was, and she was gorgeous. They tell me I have her eyes but hers were more brown. My mom is of Irish descent so that makes me a quarter-breed."
Carissa continued in silence until the job was done. Cleaning the remains of the lather away with a damp towel, she stood back to look. What she saw took her breath away and turned her insides gooey. She thought that if she had met this man under different circumstances he would already be parking his boots under her bed.
He had a strong, square jaw and a full sensual mouth that she knew had to have the ability to kiss her witless. A narrow scar ran from the left corner of his mouth up to the hollow of his cheek where it spread out in all directions in a pattern similar to a spider web. Somehow the scar only added to the masculine nature of his face, making him all the more appealing to her eyes. A shudder of pure heat shot through her body, bringing a pink flush to her face, as she stood silently taking in the sight of him.
Bryce caught her shudder, disappointment bringing his hope down as he misinterpreted her reaction. Unable to look at her, unwilling to see the aversion he knew would show on her face, he closed his eyes. This would be the end of it, the hope, the dreams of her in his arms, everything.
"Damn, boy,” Carissa fairly purred. “You're a hunk! You've done the women of this world a huge disservice by hiding yourself up here."
When Bryce opened his eyes it was to see the naked desire that burned in the immeasurable depths of her olive-green eyes. He knew instantly that what he saw could not possibly be an act, so raw was the visible emotion. She was so near that he could reach out and seize her, take he
r into his arms and crush her to his body, all he had to do was reach...
Bryce was on his feet in an instant, grasping her soft arms, pulling her into his embrace, descending upon her mouth in a voracious kiss. His lips worked over hers, feeling her mouth open softly, welcoming him unconditionally. The sound of her impassioned moan set his blood to boiling as his body shook with a need that nearly over-powered them both.
His tongue invaded, seeking and finding hers to entwine in a dance as frenzied as the wind that howled outside. Finally, he was forced to release her lips as the need for oxygen had them both panting. She was clutching his shirt, gasping and leaning heavily into him, her lips trembling as her little pink tongue darted out to taste the essence of the kiss that had so affected them both. He captured her mouth again, sucking on that delicious little morsel, unable to get his fill.
He came up for air a second time, struggling to regain control of his unruly need. “Cari,” he rasped against her forehead. “If you want me to stop, tell me now. I don't think I can control myself much longer."
Carissa tilted her head back, reaching up, pulling his face down to hers. “Control is over-rated. I want you, Bryce. Make love to me.” Her voice, throaty and soft, was a plea, begging him to take her, to make her his. “If you stop now, I may never recover."
His lips sought hers again, crushing her soft body to his, dragging her feet from the ground. His frame shook as he carried her to the big bed in the main room and laid her upon the mattress. His lips left hers to forge a path along her jaw to her throat as his hands fumbled with her clothing.
"You picked a hell of a time to get fully dressed,” he growled in frustration.
Carissa chortled as she wiggled under him, helping him remove the layers of clothing that restricted his movements, his need to get to her skin. When she finally lay nude upon the mattress, a naked feast for his eyes, his mouth fell upon her, devouring her flesh as his hands roamed the heated length of her.
Her hands pulled at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against hers as he moved down her body, worshiping every inch of her with his mouth. He broke away only long enough to pull the layers of his shirts off and fight his way out of his slacks, socks and long underwear, until he was naked and pressing against her in moaning pleasure. His hard center pushed against her smooth flesh as his mouth consumed hers.
The creamy satin of her inner thigh caressed his hip as she curled her leg around his waist, propelling him beyond the edge of his tenuous control. He drilled into her body, penetrating her soft, drenched flesh with the hard power of his shaft, wrenching a cry of shocked bliss from her throat. All rational thought burned away over the flames of the pure primitive drive, their combined primal urgency joining them as one.
Carissa's body bucked wildly as Bryce reared up on his arms, throwing his head back, pummeling her softness with his steely force, moaning in guttural torment. Her fingers raked his chest, clutching at him as she cried his name in a shuddering scream. Her body seemed to crash inward on itself, the shards of it exploding outward in shattering release, nearly drowning her in darkness. Bryce soon followed, slamming into her as his own snarling howl tore from his chest and splintered the air of the cabin before he collapsed on top of her, drained and sated.
Carissa brought her hands up to caress his hair, holding his panting body to her own, shivering frame. A single tear escaped the corner of her eye and slipped into her hair as she fought to regain her breath. As Bryce rose to his elbows to see her face, she saw the concern in his eyes and the depth of emotion that had driven his passion for her.
"I'm sorry,” he whispered as he brushed away the tear from her face with his fingertips. “I didn't mean to hurt you."
"You didn't, Bryce,” she murmured around the lump that had formed in her throat. “You just taught me what I've been faking all these years."
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter 11
The touch of Carissa's hand on his scarred face brought Bryce out of the dream-state that had him floating in the afterglow of their passionate coupling. He quickly captured her hand, shifting his weight off her and rolling to his side. A groan of protest tumbled off her lips as he pulled himself out of her body and gathered her into his arms.
"I think we scared poor Skoll,” she told him with a laugh.
Bryce raised his head to spy the dog whimpering in the far corner, and laughed. “This was definitely something he's never seen or heard,” he laughed in return.
"He's very bonded to you, Bryce. Where did you get him?"
"Just before I came up here I saw a man beating the hell out of him. Had him on a short chain in a mud hole with dirty water and no food. The poor animal was half-starved and hardly able to stand. So I threw the guy in the mud and took the dog. He's been with me every since."
"He's a good dog,” she said as she watched the mammoth animal thump his tail against the floor, as if to acknowledge that he knew he was the topic of their conversation.
"Yeah, he is but he doesn't trust people anymore than I do."
She looked into his eyes, seeing the deep pain hidden in their depths. “Why don't you? What happened?"
He kissed her soundly to silence her questions, fearing the truth and what it would do to the light in her beloved eyes. Rolling onto his back and taking her with him, his hands stroked the length of her silky spine, hardly believing that he was holding her. Carissa filled his senses with her womanly body, her every movement fueling his desire. Her questions forgotten, she returned his kiss, moving her small body over his, her hands roaming the planes of his hard muscles.
More than five years of celibacy, the three years he spent in seclusion and the two years before—after that terrible day—were left behind as he reveled in the pleasure of this enchanting wood sprite who had taken hold of his heart. He growled in response to her warm breath on his skin, her gentle touch and her fiery eyes. Digging his fingers into her hips, he guided her over his hard center, lowering her soft, wet flesh onto his powerful core, impaling and imprisoning her.
"Bryce,” he heard her say in a soft moan, as she slid down the length of him. To him her voice was a tender caress, a sensation for which he had longed since first he had laid eyes upon her delicate face. He pulled her body down for another kiss, invading her mouth with his tongue, as he began to move slowly under her. With each slow thrust, her voice emitted another tiny cry, her body moving in time with his.
"Carissa, you're like a dream,” he whispered as she rose upward to ride his hard body.
Her fingers dragged down the powerful muscles of his hard chest, grazing over the ragged scars that marred his skin, to the ripples of his belly. Every thick inch of his rigid cock evoked pleasures she never thought imaginable as he moved slowly in and out of her flesh. His hands on her hips drove her onward, lifting and pulling her back down in heated torment.
He watched her face, softened in pleasure with lips slightly parted, as each torturous stroke brought them closer to that moment of infinite ecstasy. His hands moved upward, skimming the silky curves of her waist, over the gentle ridges of her ribs and finally to the rounded globes of her breasts. His fingers found her nipples, teasing the hardened pink jewels, rolling them until she was writhing on top of him, her breath coming in panting moans.
Releasing one breast, he trailed his fingers down her breastbone and over her belly to splay his fingers across her mound. He slipped his thumb between their fevered bodies, hooking it under her pelvis to find the hard little clitoris that was the nerve center of her pleasure. He stroked his thumb across the wet knot, delighting in her reaction as she cried out and bucked wildly.
"Oh, Jesus, Bryce!” she whimpered.
"Yes, baby, tell me."
"I ... I'm gonna come!"
Her screaming voice was like music in his ears as he pounded up into her, driving her to the edge and beyond. Savoring every sensation, he felt her muscles clench around his shaft as her body shuddered, convulsing over him until she fell fo
rward in a panting heap on top of him. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, feeling her inner muscles gripping and quivering around his cock in an incredible embrace until he could stand no more.
He slowly rolled over on top of her, trying to keep his movements slow within her but the way her legs wrapped around him with her knees clenching his ribs was more than he could bear. Within moments, his shaft was pounding into her again, thrashing her body with his strength. The world seemed to shake violently as he grew closer and closer to the edge with her voluptuous frame and stroking hands driving him onward. Finally, with a feral growl he exploded within her, spraying his seed into her belly, and for the briefest of moments, he was sure he had died in the rapture of their coupling.
At last the clouds began to clear from his vision and his mind until he became aware that the tiny woman under him was laughing softly against his neck. Still struggling to control his breathing, he raised his head and looked into her eyes. “What's so funny?” he asked softly.
"You fuck like a wild man,” she said sweetly.
Raising himself onto his elbows so that he could better see her beautiful eyes, he grinned sheepishly and said gallantly, “I was quite swept away by your charms."
She exploded in peals of laughter at his mocking statement, tangling her fingers in his hair. “You're a wonderful lover, Bryce,” she murmured around a yawn.
Bryce chuckled and gently shifted his weight off her diminutive frame. “That's because you're easy to love,” he mumbled in return as they both drifted off into an exhausted slumber, wrapped in each other's arms.
It was some hours later when Bryce awoke to find he was alone. At first, he thought it had all been a dream until he rolled onto his side, catching the scent of her on the bed linens. He came upright in bed, looking about the darkened room and not seeing Carissa anywhere. Then he caught sight of the soft glow of lamplight coming from the kitchen, and heard the muted sounds of her movement within, drawing him from the bed. The cabin had grown cold, as the fire had died away to glowing embers in the hearth.
