Lumberjacked (A Holiday Lumberjack Mountain Man Romance) - K.C. Crowne Page 0,11
to me again. To follow through with that kiss, and so much more. I wanted him. I scoffed silently. Where were these thoughts coming from? I had zero clue about the ways of sex. I’d never had sex with anyone, because I was waiting for the right guy. Sure as hell wasn’t going to be that moron, Ryan, and I’d never wanted to with any of the men I’d dated.
I hated to admit it, but the abuse my mother had suffered at the hands of my father had scarred me as well. I compared all men to him, and I worried I’d fall in love with a bastard like my mother had. She’d loved him so much, she couldn’t walk away from him, even when he started punching her. So I was awfully choosy about the men I allowed in my life, and none had been able to get into my pants.
I glanced up, my thoughts churning, and caught him staring at me. I looked into the deep, haunted eyes of a man that made me yearn to be wrapped in his arms, caressed by his rough, hard hands all over my body, claiming me in such a way I’d never ever want to turn back. Exploding from my insides.
I knew I’d be ready when the right man came. And I’d give myself to him fully, holding nothing back. Was Viktor that man? I desired his lips on my skin, teeth scraping, hands cupping my ass and my breast… I shouldn’t think about a man I barely knew like this, but my intuition told me I could trust him.
I couldn’t help myself. I desperately wanted him to take me in every way possible.
Thinking about it, I felt a build-up of warm moisture between my legs. Of course, it wasn’t a new experience for me. I knew very well how to give myself an orgasm, and I’d watched enough porn to know what it meant to be with a man - but I knew none of that would compare to experiencing sex first hand.
After dinner, and in complete silence, his way of life, apparently, we cleaned together and put the leftover chicken in bowls to be eaten another day. I scavenged and found some tea bags and offered to make us each a mug.
“You don’t have to,” he mumbled uncomfortably.
“It’s just a cup of tea,” I replied. “I’m making me one.” He didn’t answer, so I rolled my eyes and looked at him. “Do you want a tea or not?”
“Yes, but you’ll have to boil the water on the fire outside.”
“Oh,” I said, remembering there wasn’t a stove. I’d heated the veggies by setting the bowls close to the fire. “Ok, I guess we won’t have tea.”
“I have whiskey,” he rumbled.
“Um, okay. Maybe just one,” I replied. I might feel completely safe with him, but I wasn’t getting drunk with him.
He grabbed two glasses and poured generous helpings in each. He handed one to me, and I shifted in the old leather armchair where I sat. Viktor sat across from me in a seat of his own, staring into the flames. I glanced at him and ended the silence, which seemed to be my job.
“Why do live out here?”
His eyes jerked up, his expression shuttered. “Because I want to.”
The tone of his voice caused my brows to draw together. “No need to be rude.”
He grunted and shifted, his scowl deepening. “I’m not used to having anyone here.”
“I won’t be here long,” I reminded him, taking a sip of the whiskey. I gasped as it burned and warmed, then sipped some more. “This is actually better than tea.”
He nodded. “I agree.”
We sipped in silence for a bit. I stared into the fire, the heat from the flames and whiskey killing the slight chill. My eyes began to feel heavy, and I wanted nothing more than to curl up on the chair and sleep. My body was somewhat sore from the mudslide, and I wished more than anything for the big tub in my mother’s bathroom where I could soak away the soreness.
My whiskey forgotten, my eyes shifted to the man who’d rescued me, and I wondered about the sleeping situation. Heaviness settled over me, and I cared only about letting myself slip away.
“We should sleep.”
I jolted, realizing I’d snuggled into the chair. I hoped I hadn’t been snoring. “What?”
“We should sleep.”
“Where?” I blurted before I’d even thought about it. There was only one bed in a tiny little room.