I cry out in horror and jump back, landing on my ass on the floor. On someone’s limb, apparently, because a loud whine followed by a loud bark thunders through the tent. I try to move but bump into a furry body, another growl erupting from them.
“What the fuck?” A familiar male voice comes from the bed, and my eyes go round. Mark. How the hell did I forget that we fell asleep together? The events of the previous evening come rushing in, burning my cheeks.
I rubbed over him like a starved animal. I ground on his lap, searching for a release I haven’t felt in so long. I could feel him through all the layers separating us.
I feel my cheeks grow even hotter, and the heat creeps farther down my neck.So embarrassing. I acted like a hussy. Like a whore. Ashley, Justin’s ex-girlfriend who knows about that night, had called me that before. Like I didn’t have a care in the world. Maybe I acted like that that night, sending mixed signals to everyone around. Maybe it really was my fault.
“Are you okay?”
I blink at Mark. He’s lying on his side, his arm folded under his head. His muscles bulge, stretching the beige sweater he’s wearing and drawing my attention from my self-depreciating slump.
“Yeah.” It comes out as a squeak, so I clear my throat and repeat it in a more confident voice. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“What are you doing on the floor?” His morning voice is raspy and sexy.
I take a moment. In the last twenty-four hours, I changed from a person who was scared to be touched and hadn’t had orgasm—even a self-inflicted one—in years to suddenly a sex-starved hussy lusting after her neighbor.
“I fell,” I answer honestly.
“You fell?” He raises a brow, humor in his voice.
“Yeah.” I try to stand gracefully but forget the tent is short, bumping my head on the ceiling. Mark watches my movements, biting his lip as he tries hard not to laugh. “You took the whole bed!” I accuse him once I get a hold of myself.
“You were sleeping on top of me.” His lips stretch into a smile.
“I was not!” My mouth falls open in shock, even though I know he’s right.
“Were too.” He smiles wider. “Did you sleep well?”
“I’ve slept better,” I say, throwing my braid over my shoulder. I probably look like a complete mess! I’m puffy in the morning on a good day, so I probably look like I drank ten gallons of tequila this morning. I groan inwardly, wishing I could hide my face in my hands.
“Sure, you have.” He smirks and closes his eyes. “Come back to bed. It’s too early.” A moment later, his breathing evens out. Is he asleep already?
I lean over him. Yep, he’s out. I reach for my phone to check the time. It’s five thirty. I never wake up this early, but I’m feeling well rested, and there’s no way I’ll fall back asleep, especially not next to him when my memories are so fresh.
I want to pull my jacket from under his head, but he’s sleeping so soundly, so I put on my boots and hat and try his jacket on. It’s huge but wearable. I fold the sleeves and zip it up. Once I do, the warm scent of burnt wood and male musk envelopes me into a strong hug. I breathe in the powerful aroma, basking in the memories of yesterday once more.
As I take a breath, I become all too aware of someone staring at me.What?I glare back at Ghost, watching me from under his heavy brows. I stick my tongue out at him, and he puts his head on the ground, trying to cover his eyes with his paws.Drama queen.I roll my eyes and step out of the tent. Ghost follows, and I close the door right behind him. I don’t want Mark getting cold while he sleeps. He deserves some rest after saving so many people all the time, and I don’t imagine gusts of cold wind being relaxing.
Once I’m outside, I look around. The first snow came while we slept. A couple inches cover the ground as far as I can see. White covers the trees, heavy on their bare twigs. There’s no chirping, and the sun isn’t even up yet.
It’s peaceful out here. Quiet. I take in a lungful of pure air and nearly get dizzy. Ghost trots to a tree and lifts his leg, marking the territory. When he’s done, he moves to another tree. And then another. I go to the fire-pit and clear the area. We have a few tiny twigs left, but it’s not enough to keep the fire going, so I walk deeper into the woods to collect some more. Ghost follows me, happily trotting by my side. Surprisingly, I share his chirpy mood.
I collect wood while he goes about his business, and we return to camp. Mark is still asleep, and I start the fire. I clean the log we used for a bench and cover it with my scarf.
Ghost stretches on the snow by the fire while I boil water for coffee. I brought a few packets of instant coffee and a normal one—meaning the one I’ll have to cook—with me. I read a lot of romance novels, and in Wild West romances, they always make coffee on the fire. I need to know if that actually works so I can write about it too. I brought a thermos with a fine sieve in it so I can pour the good stuff into mugs once I’m done.
I check my water supplies and see I don’t have much left. There is definitely no room for mistakes, so it either has to be perfect from the first try or we will have to melt snow. The latter is out of the equation because with only two inches, there is a high chance I’ll be cooking soil along with the snow. My hope for an educational moment goes down the drain. Instant coffee it is.
Once the water is boiling, I pour myself a cup, already filled with two bags of instant coffee, add more sugar, and take a sip. I’m not a fan of instant coffee, but I must admit, it’s not as bad as I thought it would be. Maybe fresh air does wonders, maybe my recent activities—my cheeks heat up again—awoke my appetite. Who knows? The only thing Idoknow is that I’m enjoying everything a little more than I thought I would.
I sit on the log, take another sip, and look at the sky. It’s so clear. The stars twinkle at me, lifting my spirits. It’s as if they know what happened last night and are shooting me little knowing winks.
I had my first orgasm in years.
Sincethatnight, I haven’t been attracted to any man because they scare me shitless. The presence of them, the power, the strength… I couldn’t take it in real life, and it’s why I wrote my first book. I created the perfect man on paper, a man who would make me feel safe. Turns out, it’s what many other women wanted too, and they bought my book.
I couldn’t leave my house for months after the traumatic event, so I tried to write another book. It had the same result: people loved how safe the men in my novels were. They were protectors. They were strong and passionate and loved their women more than anything. Above all, there was nothing questionable about them. They weresafe.People kept buying them. So, I kept writing them. That’s how I got sucked into the world of romance novels.
