His Savage Longing: A Curvy Woman Mountain Man Romance

Chapter 5

Aspen

Istare into the depths of my vodka tonic, watching the condensation trickle down the glass. The posh lodge bar is mostly empty this late, just a few other guests scattered at the polished oak tables nursing overpriced cocktails.

Gripping my tumbler, I take another fortifying sip and try to ground myself. Okay, Aspen, let”s recap. You”re here to make a rational business decision about the future of your inheritance. That”s it. Nothing more.

My cheeks flush as flashes of memory from earlier today assault me. Zane”s muscular frame pinning me against that cabin wall, our bodies crashing together. The taste of his tongue in my mouth, the scorching heat of his skin beneath my palms.

Dammit. I shake my head as if I can physically dislodge the traitorous thoughts. It was just sex—stupid, nostalgia-fueled sex between two consenting adults giving in to an ill-advised bout of lust. It didn”t have to mean anything.

Did it?

I scowl down at my drink, downing the last few swallows in one burning gulp. Selling Camp Silverpine and walking away is still the smart play, no matter what my muddled heart tries telling me. I”ve worked too hard to build my life and career to just throw it all away chasing ghosts.

The lounge door bangs open, a raucous burst of laughter preceding a pack of rowdy men spilling inside. They”re dressed in expensive cold-weather gear and toting an array of high-end outdoor equipment—hunters, by the looks of it.

Great. Just what I need—a bunch of obnoxious frat boy types stomping all over the serenity I”d been hoping to find here. I shoot a withering glare at the bartender, who shrugs apologetically before moving to wait on the newcomers.

”Well, well. What do we have here?”

I turn to find one of the younger men sidling up beside me, an arrogant smirk plastered across his chiseled features. His pale blue eyes roam over me with an unmistakable leer.

”You look a little out of place in this rustic setting, gorgeous.”

His buddies snicker, crowding the bar and leering right along with him. Resisting the urge to roll my eyes, I take another pointed sip of my drink and stare resolutely ahead.

”I don’t recall asking your opinion,” I mutter into my glass.

The words seem to roll right off the creep”s back as he leans closer, his clean, crisp cologne clouding the air between us in a suffocating haze. ”Aw, come on now, don”t be like that. You should let me show you a little fun tonight.”

“No, thank you.”

His fingers graze my bare arm, making my skin prickle with instinctive revulsion. I shrug him off sharply, twisting to pin him with a glare.

”I said no,” I growl through gritted teeth.

The leer falters for a split second as I stare him down, but it quickly morphs back into that same infuriating smirk. ”Relax, babe. No need to bite my head off.”

His buddies erupt in a fresh round of guffaws, clapping him on the back like he”s god”s gift to womankind. Draining the last of my cocktail in one burning swallow, I slide off the stool with as much dignity as I can muster and stalk toward the exit.

I”m drunker than I thought, I realize as I sway slightly on my feet. The hallway leading back toward the rooms seems to tilt and elongate in front of me. Gripping the wall for balance, I take a few steadying breaths and try to get my bearings.

Okay, rooms are this way. Just focus on putting one foot in front of the other, Aspen.

”You need some help, gorgeous?”

The voice comes from behind me, smooth and dripping with false concern. I whirl, heart pounding as I come face-to-face with the asshole from the bar, that same smug grin stretching his chiseled features.

”What do you want?” I demand, struggling to keep my tone even despite the alcohol sloshing unsteadily in my veins.

”Just offering a hand,” he drawls, taking a deliberate step closer and forcing me back against the wall. ”You look like you could use some assistance finding your way.”

”I”m fine,” I grit out, fighting to keep my voice from trembling as my pulse kicks up another notch. This can”t be happening. ”Just go bother someone else, okay?”

The man”s grin widens. ”Now, why would I do that when I only have eyes for you?”

Before I can react, he lunges forward and braces his arm across my chest, effectively pinning me against the wall. I suck in a sharp breath, every muscle going rigid.

”Get off me.” But my words come out as more of a strangled yelp than the forceful command I”d intended.

He just chuckles, the sound low and sinister. His free hand snakes up to brush a stray lock of hair from my face, his touch searing like a brand.

”Don”t be like that, sweetheart. Let’s have a little fun, just you and me...”

His fingers trail lower, tracing a scorching path down my throat toward the swell of my breasts. My heart thunders, each ragged breath more labored than the last as I struggle against his solid weight.

”Let go of me, you piece of shit!”

Panic claws at my throat, the walls seeming to close in from every side. God, I”m too drunk to fend him off properly, too out of my element. I need help. I need—

”I believe she asked you to back off.” The low, gravelly voice comes from behind us, laced with a deadly calm that somehow makes the hairs prick on the back of my neck.

The man pinning me freezes, his leer faltering for the first time. He turns slightly, just enough for me to catch a glimpse of a hulking silhouette filling the hall”s entrance, arms folded over a massively broad chest.

”This doesn”t concern you, friend,” my attacker growls over his shoulder, his grip tightening fractionally. ”Why don”t you run along before—”

The rest of his words are abruptly choked off as the newcomer surges forward with startling quickness. One second, he”s looming in the shadows; the next, he”s right there, an unstoppable force of nature.

A massive hand clamps down on the man”s wrist like a vise, wrenching it away from where it”s pinning me. I crumple against the wall, gasping for air as Zane—because who else could that towering figure be?—effortlessly hauls the asshole off his feet and slams him against the opposite wall in a bone-jarring impact.

The man lets out a grunt of stunned surprise, eyes going wide as he finds himself dangling a foot off the ground with Zane”s hand clamped around his throat. He kicks and flails helplessly as Zane leans closer, their faces mere inches apart.

”I”m only going to say this once,” he rumbles in that same deadly calm tone. ”You”re going to apologize to the lady. Then you”re going to walk out of here and never show your pathetic face around her again. Do you understand?”

The man wheezes, his face already turning an alarming shade of puce. He nods rapidly, eyes bulging in terror. Zane holds him pinned for another endless heartbeat, his jaw twitching with what looks like barely restrained rage.

Finally, he releases his grip and lets the man drop in a crumpled heap at his feet. He scrambles back, coughing and spluttering.

”I”m... I”m sorry, I didn”t...”

”Save it,” Zane snarls, cutting him off with a look of disgust. ”Just get out of here before I do something I regret.”

The words drip with menace, and apparently they”re enough for the asshole to get the picture. With one last terrified look over his shoulder, he turns and scurries off down the hallway without a backward glance. Only then does Zane pivot to face me, his expression shifting from stony rage to concern, despite how we left things earlier.

”Are you hurt?”

I shake my head numbly, still reeling from the rapid turn of events. Zane”s features soften fractionally. He reaches out a hand toward me, and for a wild moment, I think he”s going to touch my face.

Instead, his arm snakes around my waist and hauls me into his arms before I can react. I let out a startled yelp as he slings me over his shoulder in one smooth, powerful motion.

”What are you doing?” I demand, suddenly finding myself staring at the flexing muscles of his back and shoulders as he starts striding down the hallway. ”Put me down!”

My words slur together more than I”d like, the effects of the vodka tonics still sloshing through my veins. Zane doesn”t respond, doesn”t even acknowledge my indignant squawking as we approach what I assume is my door based on the key dangling from the lock.

With his free hand, he twists the knob and shoulders inside, kicking the door shut behind him. Only then does he deposit me onto the bed, his arm lingering around my waist as if to ensure I don”t tumble gracelessly onto my ass.

”You reek of booze,” Zane mutters gruffly. ”We need to get you sobered up.”

”I only had a couple of vodka tonics,” I slur, unable to suppress a tipsy giggle. ”Or was it three? You know how good I”ve always been at holding my liquor.”

Zane”s jaw tightens at my flippant tone, but there”s something else flickering behind his eyes. Exasperation? Fondness, maybe? He shakes his head and straightens.

”Come on, up you go.”

Before I can protest, he”s hauling me to my feet with that same effortless strength he used on that asshole in the hall. The room tilts dangerously, and I instinctively clutch at his solid frame to keep from pitching over.

”Whoa there, tiger,” I mumble, my face suddenly buried in the warm curve of his neck. ”You move awfully fast for an old mountain man.”

Zane stiffens at the dig but doesn”t rise to the bait. Instead, he loops an arm around my waist, lending me his strength as he guides me toward the bathroom. With his free hand, he turns on the taps, filling the claw-footed tub with steaming water.

”What”re you doing?” I slur, leaning heavily against the broad wall of his chest.

”Getting you cleaned up.” His tone is clipped, all business. ”You”ll feel better once you”re clean and hydrated.”

My sluggish brain takes a moment to process his words. Then, with a start, I realize his intentions and immediately try to squirm free.

”I can bathe myself, thanks,” I huff indignantly, even as my limbs betray me with their lack of coordination.

Zane”s arm tightens fractionally, keeping me upright. ”You”re drunk off your ass, Red. Don”t make this harder than it needs to be.”

I open my mouth to protest further, but he silences me with a look—that same penetrating stare that”s always made my insides liquify. Swallowing hard against a sudden rush of heat, I give a jerky nod.

With surprising tenderness, Zane begins unbuttoning my shirt, his calloused fingers skimming my skin with feather-light caresses. My breath hitches despite my efforts to control it, the memories of our heated encounter still so fresh and vivid. His gaze remains locked on mine, dark and inscrutable.

Soon, my blouse falls away, leaving me exposed from the waist up in just my bra. Zane”s throat works as his eyes roam over the newly bared curves with undisguised longing. For a suspended moment, the air crackles with the same scorching tension from earlier, threatening to ignite.

Then he tears his stare away with visible effort, focusing once more on the task at hand. I”m too muddled, too off-balance to process anything other than a vague sense of disappointment as his hands work at the button of my jeans.

Those, too, are deftly stripped away, leaving me shivering in just my underwear. Zane”s arm tightens around me as he bends to ease my feet out of the tangle of denim. The motion brings his face perilously close to the lace-trimmed scrap of burgundy satin.

Rising fluidly, he hooks one arm beneath my knees, scooping me up in an effortless bridal carry. I let out a breathless yelp, instinctively clutching at the corded strength of his biceps as he deposits me in the steaming tub with surprising gentleness. As the warm water envelopes me, I feel his fingers deftly unhooking my bra and sliding it off, followed by a quick tug at my panties before they also slide off my legs.

”There you go,” he rumbles, crouching beside the tub as the water laps soothingly at my flushed skin. ”Just relax and let me take care of you for once, yeah?”

His words are gruff but laced with something deeper I can”t quite put my finger on. Before I can dwell on it, he”s reaching for a washcloth, dunking it in the fragrant water. I tense, fully expecting the rough, perfunctory scrubbing of someone performing an obligatory chore.

Instead, Zane”s touch is infinitely gentle as he begins bathing me—long, soothing strokes along my arms, over my shoulders, and down the slope of my back. There”s an unexpected reverence to each glide of the soft terrycloth, as if he”s savoring the simple act of caring for me like this.

I find myself melting beneath his ministrations, lulled by the rhythmic motions and the heat of the bath seeping into my very bones. Unbidden, a soft sigh escapes my lips, echoed by the whisper of the cloth caressing my skin over and over.

For long, suspended minutes, the room falls quiet save for the lap of bathwater and our mingled breaths. My eyelids grow heavy, vodka and fatigue combining into a potent lassitude.

”Why”d you leave me, Zane?” The plaintive question slips out in a murmur before I can stop it. I crack one eye open, searching his expression for any flicker of emotion.

He stills, shoulders stiffening almost imperceptibly. When he speaks, his tone is carefully neutral. ”You know why. After what happened to Mitch...”

”That”s no ”scuse,” I mumble petulantly. My tongue feels thick and leaden, words starting to slur together. I blink heavily, struggling to focus. ”You just... left me. No ”splaining nothin”. Wasn”t right...”

Zane is quiet for a long stretch. When he responds, his voice is barely above a whisper.

”You”re right. I didn”t handle things well back then. I was young and stupid, and I let my own pain push away the people I cared about most.” He pauses, his calloused thumb grazing my cheek with a feather-light caress. ”I”m sorry for that, Aspen. You didn”t deserve to be shut out with no explanation after... after what happened.”

The anguish in his tone pierces through my alcohol-induced haze, making me ache to soothe the demons still plaguing him after all this time. Before I can muster a response, the pull of oblivion grows too strong to resist. My eyelids droop, and I feel myself drifting.

”Easy there.” Zane”s voice is a low rumble as he gently lifts me from the cooling bathwater, cradling me against his chest. I”m only vaguely aware of him toweling me dry before carrying me to the bedroom.

He settles me onto the plush mattress and pulls the covers up to my chin. I sigh contentedly, nuzzling into the downy warmth as he settles beside me. Despite the gulf of hurt and unresolved history still yawning between us, in this moment, there”s a fleeting sense of peace, of being inexplicably... home.

I feel the whisper of Zane”s lips grazing my brow in the tenderest of kisses. ”Sweet dreams, Red,” he rumbles, his solid heat resonating against my back.

I surrender to the velvety curtain of slumber with a murmur, my soul knowing I”ll never stop craving this brand of wildness—not really.

It”s where I”ve always belonged, long before I tried reinventing myself.