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“Go to sleep,” Rowan mutters, curving tighter around me on the pelt. And despite the lumpy ground beneath us, despite the faint ache in my ankle and the weird sensations of my body flashing from freezing cold to sweaty-hot, despite the drum of the waterfall and the distant mournful howls echoing across the mountain range… I do.
The last thing I feel before sleep tugs me under is a tickly, bearded mouth brushing the skin beneath my ear.
Six
Rowan
Iwake suddenly, my cock hard enough to drill through rock. It has not been a restful night. My stomach aches from hours and hours of fierce arousal, and somehow while I slept, my treacherous hand delved through the blankets to cup Evie’s breast, clutching her against my chest. Shit. Did she notice?
It’s hot under these layers. The boundaries of our bodies have blurred, and every time I breathe in, I draw her cinnamon scent into my lungs.
She sighs as I let go, alarmed. My city girl rubs her cheek against the pelt and rocks her hips back into mine, murmuring garbled nonsense.
She’s sleeping. Unconscious. She doesn’t—it doesn’t mean anything. She doesn’t want me to tip her forward, draw out my cock and sink into her tight, wet heat. That is insanity.
I roll away from her slowly, trying not to disturb her rest, every muscle in my body tensed and aching. God, what I’d give for some relief.
Pink-tinged morning light fills the cave, filtering through the waterfall. The sounds of birds chirping, greeting each other for a new day, is loud enough to hear over the water, and Evie’s stomach growls in her sleep.
Food. Right.
Food I can do.
My wobbly legs carry me to the cave entrance where I snatch up a small canvas bag, and I don’t bother using a stick to part the water. Instead, icy water dunks my head, sluicing over my bare front and shoulders, and I suck in my first deep breath of the day.
The mountains are beautiful in the morning. Sleepy but majestic. The jagged peaks that rise all around look calmer in the rosy glow of sunrise, and the patches of forest come alive with birdsong. Even the river, when I hike down to its banks, seems stiller than usual, its surface glittering.
Breakfast.
What would a girl like Evie want for breakfast out here in the wild? Back home she might eat a bowl of cereal or fresh pastries with coffee, but out here on the mountain, our menu is limited.
That has never bothered me before. After all, I came out here craving simplicity; a quieter, calmer life away from all the hectic bullshit. Away from the memories. Fewer dining choices is part of that, and I’ve never missed supermarkets or takeout, not once.
Besides, I’m not completely cut off. Every few months, I do a supply run into town for soap and matches and toothpaste and other luxuries I don’t want to give up, wincing the whole time at the nearness of other people. They eye me cautiously, especially my shaggy beard, but with my feet shoved into boots and a shirt covering my chest, at least I pass as a hunter traveling through.
Should I hike down to town before Evie wakes up, then bring her pastries and coffee? No, that’s nuts. The round trip will take me hours, and she’ll wake up scared and alone in a strange environment.
Foraging it is, then.
My bare feet move over stony dirt, thick grass, and cracked, dried mud. It’s soothing to be out here alone again, my heart rate settling as the breeze washes over my chest. My seasons spent living up here mean that I know the best blackberry bushes by heart, and I walk to them on autopilot, my thoughts whirring.
Evie.
Is her ankle better this morning? Will she be okay to hike down the mountain?
I pluck berries quickly, dropping them one by one into the canvas bag. Purple juice stains my fingertips and seeps through the fabric.
What if she needs another night’s rest first? How can I sleep next to her again and keep hold of my sanity?
She looked so fucking perfect, curled up on that pelt this morning. Her auburn hair splayed behind her and tickled my nose, and a small smile curved her lips—like she was keeping a joke all to herself. Does she like blackberries? Is she awake yet?
Christ. I’m ruined.
One night of that woman in my cave, and my thoughts aren’t my own anymore. She’s all I can think about, my heart thumping every time I picture her on that pelt. She rules my tired brain, until the serenity of the morning drains away and I’m on edge again, shoving berries faster into the bag. Anxious to get back to Evie.
I hate this.
Hate wanting her. Hate needing her.
