Chapter Three
If Livvy didn’t know Ryan better, she’d think him one of those crazy men who went into the bush and ended up eating his best friend or wife. The hungry way he watched her… well, maybe it didn’t have anything to do with an empty stomach.
After their meal, he’d insisted on getting her enough hot water to wash herself up. As he stomped around the corner of the cabin out of sight, he muttered something about her privacy. So she stripped down and gave herself a cursory sponge bath with a rough washcloth from her pack.
By the time she finished, her skin burned from the falling temps. She threw on her clothes again and rounded the cabin, running smack into a wall of muscle. She bounced back and he caught her before she hit the ground.
Tipping her face up to him, she said, “What are you doing standing there?”
His eyes shone with that indifferent expression he’d worn when she first showed up. He didn’t release her upper arms, though, and that made the tingles start.
The sensation was a phenomenon she’d first experienced back in Afghanistan and now they came on fast and furious. Rippling up and down her spine, making her nipples peak, before running down to her belly and lower so her pussy squeezed.
“Ryan?” she prompted.
He let her go. “Daylight’s fadin’. Can’t let you out here alone with the bears.”
She glanced around. “Bears?”
“Yeah. Why do you think my door’s so heavy? Or my animals so protected? I only let them out during days when I’m around to guard them.” He dropped his glance to her breasts, and she swore his beard moved up and down on his neck as if he was forcing himself to swallow.
“Thank you for guarding me then. I didn’t realize it was so dangerous.” Her words came out too breathlessly. His closeness was throwing her off-balance. She wanted to throw herself at his hard chest again even if it meant concussing herself.
“Welcome.” He started to turn away.
“Why don’t I return the favor and watch your back while you wash up?” Watch your backside.
God, now she was a perv. Hoping to steal a peek of Stone while he was unawares. Like some Peeping Livvy.
It would make for some fabulous photos though.
She blinked rapidly to dispel the thought, and Ryan was looking at her like she was an idiot.
“I’ll wash in the spring. I don’t need hot water—I only did that for you.”
A warm river of emotion bubbled somewhere around her heart and trickled down through her body. Could they just quit this cat and mouse and enjoy each other the way she wanted and strongly suspected he was fighting too?
But first…
“Before you wash up then, get me a pair of scissors and I’ll cut your hair and trim your beard.”
He went still, even his eyes unmoving.
Oh God, now she’d insulted him. He liked looking like a wild man.
“Why the hell would I want to trim my hair and beard?”
“Here we go again,” she mumbled at his surly tone.
He stared at her. “I’m not up here to impress anyone.”
She read that as not even you and shrugged. “You don’t have to go along. It’s just a suggestion.”
For a long second, they faced each other down. The mountain air had worked its way to all her damp places—the back of her neck, her temples—and was rapidly chilling her. If she didn’t get to the fire soon, she’d start shivering.
She started past him.
He raised a hand to scratch at his beard, stopping her. “It is too long. But I don’t own scissors.”
“That’s okay. I have a pair of emergency ones in my pack.” She continued by him, mostly to hide her smile. Livvy 1, Mountain Man 0.
A few minutes later, she’d donned a thick sweatshirt and had her small pair of scissors in hand. Circling Ryan, who sat on the stool by the fire, she assessed the situation. Where to attack first when the scissors seemed they’d break in two the minute she tried to cut away some of those tangles?
“I’m clean. You don’t have to be afraid of touching me.” His voice was edged.
Now she’d offended him, but she was good at soothing angry beasts. Most people didn’t like a photographer and she’d been screamed at, sworn at and worse in her time. She could deal with one surly former Marine.
She moved to stand between his thighs, as thick as tree trunks, and met his gaze. “Don’t flatter yourself that you can scare me away with your rumbles and grumbles, Stone.”
She swore she saw his mouth twist in the mess of his beard but couldn’t tell for sure.
Lifting the scissors, she said, “Now sit still.”
She went for the beard first. Not that it didn’t suit some man out there in the universe, but she’d seen Ryan Stone’s rugged beauty and hiding that jaw line of his was a damn crime.
She grabbed the mass and snipped a good four inches off it. Then she handed it to him and he groaned.
“It’s like you’re taking a scalp.”
“That’s just the beginning.” She grinned and stepped around to his nape and made the same cut. She dropped the strands over his shoulder and he let out a heavy sigh. Ignoring all his monster-y sounds, she continued to trim his hair into a neater shape.
“Not too short. My military days are over.”
“Not too short,” she agreed, placing a hand on his shoulder in comfort at the ragged throatiness of his voice. A tone that said more than the man ever would—that the things he’d seen, done or both in war had driven him from civilization and forced him to seek solitude.
But he’d let her in.
Who was she kidding? She’d forced her way in. But he could have easily picked her up and thrown her off his land too. Of course, he’d know she’d only set up camp next door and continue to bug him if he didn’t let her in.
Humming softly, she let out an exclamation.
“What is it?” he asked at once.
“Why, look at this! You don’t have just one ear but two!”
He grunted, and she trimmed around the lobe, keeping the hair longer per his request.
As she worked around to the front, she found standing in front of his knees made reaching his head difficult. She nudged his knee with her own. “Can I just…?”
His gaze steadied on her face, but he didn’t protest when she took her place between his big, warm thighs. The feeling of being hemmed in by the man started her shivering again, and she had to really focus on not cutting off too much hair or slipping and slicing his skin.
“You’re cold,” he rasped.
“No, I’m perfectly warm by the fire.” And you.
“You’re trembling.”
She avoided his gaze as she examined her handiwork. She was no world-class stylist, but she wasn’t too shabby either. And neither was he. While the overly-long hair didn’t suit him, the new length did.
When he lifted his hands, she waited for him to plaster them over his beard to keep her from cutting it, like a little kid. Instead, his palms hovered somewhere around her hips.
Her breaths came faster as she aimed the scissors for his jaw line again.
Two warm hands settled on her hips. She stopped dead, unable to think, move or breathe. Swallowing hard, she gazed at his lips, a dark slash hiding under his beard in the fading light.
Ryan closed his fingers on her, swaying her closer. Before she came in contact with his strong body—or that bulge she hoped was in his jeans—he released her.
“Why are you shaking, Livvy?”
“Shut up, Ryan.”
“Why do you call me Ryan at times and Stone others?”
She thought about it. “I didn’t realize I did that. I guess it’s from trying to keep a professional distance from you back in Afghanistan.”
He grunted again but didn’t ask more.
Curiosity got the better of her. If he wasn’t military-issue anymore and wanted to keep his beard, did that mean…?
“So… if you’ve turned your back on your training, does that go for your country too?”
He jolted on the stool, his thigh bumping hers and sending brand-new heat through her.
“Never that.” His voice was gruff.
Pleased with his answer, she continued trimming. He sat still while she sheared off his beard, shaping it to curve with his jaw but not taking away all of it.
By the time she finished, her knees felt like jelly. She lowered the scissors and examined his face.
Okay, she couldn’t stop looking at him. The man beneath the mask of hair and beard had emerged as the gorgeous hunk she’d known.
“Well?” he said quietly after she’d stared at him far too long.
She nodded. “Better.”
A twist of a smile sent her heart fluttering into her throat. “That’s all I get? Better?”
“Not ready for the Red Carpet, but definitely more man than animal.”
He released a sound like a harsh laugh. She started to move out from between his knees, but he lifted his hands again and clamped them on her hips. Lightly at first and then squeezing harder, sending waves of need radiating toward her center. Her pussy throbbed and her panties were instantly damp.
He dragged in a deep breath like he was inhaling her scent. She let the scissors drop amidst the hair lying at their feet. As she threaded her fingers into his long, soft locks, he groaned and tipped forward. Letting his forehead rest between her breasts for the briefest of moments. But long enough for her to feel the intense heat of his breath warming her.
“Ryan…”
He moved his hands upward, roaming just over the outer curves of her breasts. “You tempt a beast, Livvy. It’s been too long since I’ve had a woman.”
“I-is that some sort of warning?” Her words tumbled out.
“No. It’s some sort of promise.” He stood and cupped her face in the same motion. Towering over her, his shoulders were like a shelter against the cooling mountain air.
He reached for the knot of her scarf.
She stilled, breathing quicker. He hadn’t seen yet. Hadn’t—
He stripped away the cloth and ducked his lips to her throat. When his mouth met the twisted line of her scar, he jerked his head up. Turning her to the firelight, he locked his gaze on her neck.
“Jesus Christ. Fucking hell.”
She stroked her fingers over his jaw. “It’s just a scar, Ryan.”
He shook his head hard. “Fuck, how can you look at me that way when I let this happen to you?”
She moved her hand to her scar. “It’s not that bad. I’ve seen so much worse during my career. I feel lucky there was a military doctor with the ability to stitch me up.”
“You deserved a fucking plastic surgeon.”
“Outward appearance means nothing. We’re both scarred.”
“I’m just a broken Marine, no good to anyone. And I didn’t save you after all.” He started pulling away, already a hundred miles from her.
Grabbing at him, she forced him into a half turn but he wouldn’t look at her. She hadn’t given much thought to her ugly scar until this minute. Was she too disgusting for him?
“Ryan, you did save me. I’m standing right here in front of you. Neither of us are whole, not the way we once were—”
“Stop, Livvy. Don’t even say it. Just…” He waved to the cabin. “You take the bed. I’ll sleep in front of the fire. Don’t worry—you’ll be safe inside.”
She heard, Safe from me.
Heart slamming hard, she stared at him for a long moment. Unable to speak around the knot of tears in her throat, she skirted around him and went to the cabin, grabbing her scarf and her pack as she went.
She paused before closing the cabin door, shaking now from anger and hurt and not the desire and longing from before. She glared at his back. “You can go to hell, Ryan Stone.”
* * * * *
What did it mean if she used both his names?
With his momma, it had meant he wasn’t only in trouble but was about to have a come-to-Jesus moment.
What the fuck did it matter when Livvy was in his cabin, weeping? Each quiet hiccupping noise she made sounded all the way through the rough wood and burrowed into his soul.
He was a barbarian. Not only was she crying now but that neck injury had to have cost her some tears.
He jammed his fingers through his hair, shocked to find it much shorter. Up here he didn’t own a mirror, but he could imagine how he looked. Hell, it shouldn’t matter. Except it had pleased Livvy to trim his hair and beard. His rough demeanor was exactly why he’d fled civilization and now he’d made her cry.
He couldn’t take back his harsh words about her scar. Too late he realized he’d hurt her feelings. She covered the scar with a scarf—did that mean she was self-conscious about it? Or had she donned it to spare him from seeing it on their first day together?
Hell, even in the dim light of the fire it looked bad. Twisted and puckered. A good plastic surgeon could have done much better, maybe still could. He hated knowing that he hadn’t kept her as safe as he’d thought.
He had to say something to her to make it right.
He got up and brushed some of the hair off his thighs. His hands still tingled with the warmth of Livvy’s body, and other parts weren’t letting him forget either. His damned jeans fit way too tight.
The cabin was only a few steps away. He paused at the door to listen but didn’t hear her anymore. Maybe she’d fallen asleep. She’d had a hell of a day. First that long hike up the mountain, cleaning his entire cabin and doing his laundry and then cooking for him and cutting his hair.
Now he felt worse than ever. She’d given so much to him in the past twelve hours and what had he given back?
Dammit, he wasn’t up here living this sort of life to be considerate of anyone’s feelings.
But Livvy wasn’t just anyone.
Pushing out a heavy breath through his nose, he rapped on the door. Silence greeted him.
“Livvy?” he said softly.
He strained to hear and thought he detected a faint scuffling sound. She’d locked the door from inside—he’d heard the bar going into place.
He knocked again. “Livvy, I’m an ass. And I’m sorry.”
“You are an ass,” she responded.
Leaning against the door, he envisioned her standing just on the other side, aching from what he’d said and done. His chest burned with remorse and for so many other reasons, like what might have been between them if he’d let it happen. Now he was only part of a man and a terrible one at that. He’d let her get injured by that blast and then treated her like crap when she came here to see him.
“You have no reason to let me in, but I’d like to apologize. Face to face.”
Her sigh was clear. “Well, it is your cabin.” She opened the door and firelight flickered over her.
She wasn’t wearing the scarf and was fully clothed in jeans and her sweatshirt. Her thick hair had been let loose from the confines of her braid, though, and hung in waves around her like a cloak of fire.
She bit down on her lower lip, and his gaze snapped to her mouth. Plump heaven. Sweet torment.
“Fuck, I can’t stop myself.” He grabbed her and pushed her inside, slamming his mouth over hers as he kicked the door shut.
Her gasp filled his ears as he slanted his lips more firmly over hers, letting her get used to the feel of him before taking what he wanted.
He wanted it all.
He hoped she did too.
She seemed to melt under his kiss. He walked his fingers up her torso and tangled them in the heavy mass of her hair. God, why did she have to be here right now when he was feeling so damn vulnerable and alone lately? If she’d arrived six months before, this never would happen.
Except it was and now he wasn’t going to apologize for it.
He brushed his lips across hers, nibbling from one corner to the other, tasting her sweetness. When she parted for him, a groan escaped from somewhere deep inside. With a hand on her lower back, he swept her against him, moaning at the soft feel of her and her enticing lips.
Then he eased his tongue into her mouth and damn, if it wasn’t too late. He was too far gone to stop.
He skittered his fingers down to her neck and rested them over the scar. She stilled.
Against her lips, he murmured, “I’m sorry. Sorry for making you feel bad about the scar. And even sorrier you even have the damn thing.”
She reached up and covered his fingers with her own. Eyes shining in the darkness, a blue-black that set him on a path to hell.
“Livvy, I want you in my bed, what little there is of one.” Breathing hard at his admission, he closed his eyes. He felt her nod and then something soft brush across his lips.
Her kiss set him off. He lifted her, not releasing her mouth as he navigated the cabin to the back corner and the sleeping pallet. Little more than a hard shelf but she’d made it enticing with candles on the ledge above. Golden light flickered over the blanket, lighting their way. When he laid her on the blanket, the scents of fresh air wafted up.
He followed her down, his thigh cramped and aching at the strange maneuver he wasn’t used to. But he pushed the twinge to the back of his mind and hovered over her so only their hips and chests touched.
Smoothing the hair from her cheek, he tried to put voice to the words rushing through his head. How many months had he existed without words? Only thinking in pictures at times. In this moment, he had to come back to the living—for Livvy.
She let out a shivery sigh that had his cock hard and battering his fly. As she sank her fingers into his hair and pulled his head down for his kiss, he braced his weight on his elbows to keep from crushing her.
The first touch of her lips against his made him think of tentative first kisses and new girlfriends in the back seat of his car. Then Livvy thrust her tongue into his mouth and the images transformed to hotter, dirtier ones. Of her body completely naked, her thighs spread and him sinking deep into her wet heat.
“Oh God,” she moaned against his mouth between their tangles of tongues. Need blasted him, and he rocked his hips into hers. Pushing hard with each move, letting her feel his desire evident in his bulging erection.
She twitched her hips up to meet his grinding motions. When she dug her fingers into his shoulders, he let out a ragged noise and broke the kiss.
“I don’t have any…”
“I’m on birth control and I’m clean. Ryan, I want you. Please.”
The please got him.
Heart thudding faster, he dropped his lips to her neck, using the time spent kissing the sensitive skin to get a grip on his control. He couldn’t go fast with her. Not now, not ever. It was what had stopped him back in Afghanistan—he couldn’t have risked starting something he couldn’t finish and leave her feeling abandoned or hurt.
He hadn’t been in a position to make her his then, and now even less so, but he’d deal with the fallout later.
Pressing tender kisses up the column of her throat, he found the hem of her top and tugged it upward, unveiling silky skin he wished to hell he could see in more than the few flames flickering on the ledge above them. Lighting the kerosene lantern would take too damn long and kill the mood.
Dark heat crept low through his groin and his hips jerked of their own accord, raising a gasp from her.
“I’ve wanted you for so long,” she murmured against his mouth.
He plunged his tongue inside, sweeping over hers, tasting her desire. Lust. Need.
He’d show her how good she could feel.
Stripping off her top, he levered back on his elbows to look at her. The thin tank top had been driving him crazy for hours. Finally, he had the chance to rip it off her.
He tossed it aside and tore at her bra. When her fine breasts were exposed, something like a prayer filled his mind. Sweet Jesus, could this be all he’d needed the past year? What isolation hadn’t healed, two fine breasts just might. Those pink puckered nipples and swollen mounds pushing upward could make him into a better man.
He dipped his head and took one nipple in his mouth, slowly lapping his tongue around the tip until she arched off the bed. She slipped her thighs higher on his hips and gave him a better angle for grinding his erection into her.
“Fuck, sweetheart.” He ran his tongue around her areola and trailed it across to her other one. Giving it the same attention as she cupped his head to her as if never letting him go. Soft cries mingled with moans came, a music more intoxicating than the wind through the pines or the crackle of his own fire.
She pulled at his shirt, baring him to the waist, and then went for his fly. The instant her soft, cool fingers slid inside his boxers and stroked the head of his cock, he stiffened.
“Ryan.”
He guided her hand away. “I’m too far gone to let you touch me.” He claimed her lips again, feeding her the promise of what he could do with his tongue. Then he slid down her body, hooked her thighs over his shoulders and showed her.
* * * * *
The instant Ryan’s mouth met her slick folds, Livvy thought she’d suffocate from lack of oxygen. She couldn’t draw a full breath, could only moan out her pleasure. He ran the tip of his tongue over the seam of her pussy and up to revolve around her clit. God, he was good at that. Great maybe. No, not even great—he was amazing.
Her inner thighs trembled, and she focused on the feel of his fingers biting into her ass rather than the extreme bliss he delivered with each wet stroke of his tongue. She didn’t want to climax too soon—wanted this to last.
After all, she’d been waiting for it forever.
Back in Afghanistan, he was the Marine who intrigued her. She had so many photographs of him that she’d put them all on their own thumb drive. Not to mention those prints hanging in her darkroom.
In her mind’s eye, she saw her favorite image of him, laden with gear, determination and a will to kick ass that some of the other Marines lacked. Yeah, Ryan Stone was one of those guys who completely embodied the phrase what you see is what you get.
Right now, she was seeing a man on fire, set to rock her world with another kind of blast.
He dipped his tongue into her channel, raising a rough moan from her lips. She twisted her hands in his hair, unable to stop the twitches of her hips that were urging her closer to a summit. With small flicks, he worked his way back to her clit and then sucked it into his mouth.
Soft pulls. Stronger ones. A rasping cry escaped her. Juices flooded his lips.
Damn, she was a goner.
“Ryan!” She gasped just as a wave of orgasm hit so big, it felt like a hurricane rain washing over her. She squeezed her eyes shut while pulsations shook her to the core.
He moaned when her juices hit his tongue, and she opened her eyes to meet his stare across the length of her body. Dark eyes, full of a spark she had missed.
It was back—or Ryan was back.
He made a show of lapping her slowly, flattening his tongue when he reached her overly-sensitive nub. Her belly muscles dipped on another gasp.
“Mmm.” His groan vibrated through her flesh, spiking her need all over again.
“Why do I feel like an…” pant, pant, “ice cream cone?”
He rumbled a noise that might have been a laugh or a growl of satisfaction. “You taste better.”
Releasing her grip on his hair, she twisted her fingers in the blanket again as he tormented her with his tongue, seemingly unwilling to stop and seek his own pleasure. And she was slowly climbing again, a tension coiled inside her that could only be satisfied by his expert tongue.
He pressed kisses down each side of her pussy to the creases of her thighs. Untouched territory for how long now? Years. She was so immersed in her career that she hadn’t taken time out for even a one-night stand. And the only man she’d wanted to take her there had turned away from her offered kiss.
Then saved her life.
“Ryan…”
“You taste like honey.” He lifted her ass and feasted on her, the intimate kiss shocking her right to the peak. She hovered on the verge, her moan echoing in the cabin. So close, sooo…
He lowered her to the pallet again and lifted his head.
Frustration balled her fists and she batted at his ear.
As quick as ever, he dodged to the side. Eyes gleaming and lips and beard shiny with her juices, he moved up her body. A quiver took hold in her stomach as he settled his stare on her.
“You weren’t going to hit me, were you?”
“I…” She had been. “I was about to come.”
His gaze burned down at her. “I know, sweetheart. That’s why I stopped.”
Who knew Ryan Stone was a damn pussy tease?
His lips met hers, and she forgot all about her irritation as her flavors mingled with his on her tongue. Passion rocketed inside her. She wrapped her thighs around his bulky hips and reached between his legs. The second her hand landed on his hard-on, she knew she had him by the proverbial balls.
He groaned and dropped his head to her shoulder, breathing hard. “Fuck, Livvy.”
“Mmm-hmm.” She stroked him from root to tip, ending by running her thumb through the pre-cum pooled there.
His arm muscles shook. Was she taking down the big mountain man Marine with a little caress?
“Take off your jeans.” She leaned up to bite his lower lip. A small nip that raised a growl from him.
He met her gaze for a brief flash before rolling to his feet and discarding boots, socks, jeans and boxers. When the small glow of light from the candles washed over his body, she stopped breathing. God, he was beautiful. All sinew and strength. Light chest hair tapering to a line running straight to the hair at the base of his very large, impressive erection.
She slipped off the pallet and sank to her knees. Gripping his hips on the way down and swallowing his cock in one easy move.
His muscles grew rock-hard under her hands and his cock swelled against the back of her throat. “Fuck. Fuck.” The last was whispered like a prayer.
Unwilling to miss the expression on his face, she looked up at him as she drew on his length with soft pulls of her mouth. Her tongue riding up the underside. She pulled back, reveling in his grunt before sucking him in again.
For a man who only had a bar of soap and a mountain spring, he smelled good. No, amazing.
She took his cock all the way into her throat until her lips brushed the stiffer hair at the base.
He jerked back and dragged her up by her arms. A flurry of muscle and dark hair and beard rushed by her vision and then he slammed his mouth over hers. Bearing her back on the bed and pressing his body between her thighs. The tip of his cock met her wet pussy, and shock rippled through her.
She met his gaze. Why did this feel like a turning point in their relationship? She’d gone from friend-zone to fuck buddy in a blink.
Or, judging by that look in his eyes, more than fuck buddy. She didn’t think it was the candlelight making her see emotion in those dark depths.
He swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “You’re sure you want this? Because once I enter you, I won’t be able to stop.”
“I don’t know how you can stop now.” She hooked her heels against his ass and dragged him in.
He filled her with one slick stroke.
His cock reached deep, so deep. She clenched around him, and he started to move. Jerkily at first and then gaining a rhythm. She rose and fell under him, meeting his thrusts.
With his lips inches away, she couldn’t resist taking what she wanted. The clash of their mouths drove her higher, and she twisted her tongue with his as he spurred them on to an unseen, blissful end.
He tore his mouth away. “Fuck, I don’t know if I can last. Come for me. Come, sweetheart.”
The dark heat behind his words threaded through her, launching her to the ledge with his husky tone. She gripped his shoulders and bucked upward as he sank deep. It was all she needed. Liquid fire raced through her body and pulsations rocked her. She screamed his name a second time.
“That’s it. Fuck yeah.” He churned his hips and stiffened as his own release hit.
The first spurt of his come shocked her senses. She’d never had a man this way before, and the intimacy was too much. Tears brimmed in her eyes and spilled over as she clung to him.
He continued to pump into her, muscles straining in a way that made her wish she could photograph him.
Man in the throes of lust.
When he collapsed on her, still bracing his weight on his arms, she cupped his face and kissed him. He wasn’t rolling over to sleep yet—the passion still flowed as hot as before their mutual orgasms—and that was new to her as well. This was a man who did things very thoroughly.
He slanted his mouth over hers again and again, and his cock never softened inside her. Their combined juices seeped out of her, but the feeling only heightened her desire more.
Hell, she couldn’t get enough of this man. She’d barged into his life and he’d made it clear she wasn’t welcome. But now, a hope was rising. Maybe they could have more than this one night together.