His Wild Desire: A Curvy Woman Mountain Man Romance (Rugged Peaks Book 1)

Chapter 5

Istoke the crackling fire with a metal poker, watching the flames flicker and dance in the dimly lit cabin. The scent of wood smoke hangs heavy in the air, mingling with the lingering traces of pine and earth still clinging to my skin.

Just the memory of Emma”s soft curves pressed against me, her nails raking through my hair, is enough to have desire stirring low in my gut once more. I shift on the worn leather couch, adjusting the snug denim over my growing arousal with a soft grunt.

I should be terrified at how quickly she”s burrowed under my skin. At how desperately I want—no, need—to claim her as mine in the most elemental way possible. A woman like her, with her polished city ways and endless ambition, has no place in the simple, rugged life I”ve carved out for myself. She”s only here temporarily before inevitably returning to the world where she belongs.

So why can”t I seem to summon even an ounce of resistance against the connection rapidly taking root between us?

The soft creak of the floor has me glancing up, and any attempts at rational thought come skidding to a halt. Emma emerges from the bathroom, a vision that damn near steals the breath from my lungs.

She”s swimming in one of my faded flannel shirts, its tails brushing her thighs, leaving those long legs deliciously bare. Loose tendrils of chestnut hair frame her face, and her green eyes are wide and luminous in the firelight, thick lashes fanning over high cheekbones.

She”s so beautiful it damn near hurts to look at her. But I can”t seem to tear my gaze away, drinking in every soft curve and delicate angle like a parched man at an oasis.

Emma catches me staring, and a slow, coy smile curves those full lips. ”See something you like, hoss?”

The teasing lilt in her voice simultaneously inflames me and loosens the knot of tension gripping my chest. Instead of answering, I push to my feet, grab the bottle of Woodford Reserve from beside the couch, and hold it up with an arched brow.

”Thirsty?”

At her eager nod, I pour a generous splash into each of the tin mugs I”ve set out and hold one out to her. Emma accepts it with a murmur of thanks, sinking down onto the opposite end of the worn couch with a contented sigh.

I take a sip of the smoky bourbon, letting the slow burn trickle down my throat before joining her on the soft leather. We sit in comfortable silence for a few long beats, the occasional creak of the cabin”s aged beams mingling with the snap and crackle of the dancing flames.

”This is nice,” Emma finally murmurs, her gaze trained on the mesmerizing flicker of orange light. ”Peaceful.” She takes another sip, then shoots me a wry glance over the rim of her mug. ”Though I suppose you”d hardly consider a near bear mauling ”peaceful.””

I roll my eyes toward the shadowed ceiling. ”What the hell were you doing wandering around out there alone anyway?” I ask. ”Especially with that busted ankle.”

Emma shrugs one shoulder, gaze dropping to the amber liquid swirling in her tin mug. ”I don”t know, I just... I was going stir-crazy, I guess. Sitting around that cabin with nothing to do except overthink my entire existence.”

She huffs out a mirthless chuckle and takes another sip of bourbon. ”I guess I was looking for a distraction from my own spiraling thoughts. And maybe...” She hesitates, worrying her full lower lip between her teeth. ”Maybe I was hoping to find a signal so I could check in at the office. Get a handle on things before they inevitably implode without me around to keep it all together.”

“What do you do?” I ask her.

“I’m a marketing executive,” she says.

“And you like it?”

She shrugs. “It’s a good job. It’s stressful, and this is my first vacation in… god, I don’t even know how long. But, it pays the bills.”

I narrow my eyes at her. “But do you like it?”

She narrows her eyes right back. “Does it matter?”

That’s my answer, then. I drain the last of my bourbon in one burning swallow, setting the empty mug aside with a soft thunk.

”Why don”t you just quit?” The words leave my mouth before I can think better of them. ”If your job is stressing you out that bad, ditch it. Find something else, do something that makes you happy.”

Her head snaps up, those green eyes widening in disbelief. ”Are you serious? Just up and quit my job, the thing I”ve worked the better part of a decade to achieve? That”s not exactly an option for everyone, Caleb.”

I hold up a hand, fighting the urge to bristle. ”Hey, I”m not trying to downplay your career or anything. Just seems to me like your priorities might be a little out of whack if a few days away is sending you into a panic spiral.”

Emma scowls at that, her chin lifting in stubborn defiance. ”Yeah, well, you wouldn”t understand. My job, my success... it”s kind of a big deal for my family. Especially my mother.”

She pauses, sucking in a sharp breath, then lets out a humorless chuckle. ”So yeah, you could say walking away from my high-powered career isn”t really an option. Not if I want to avoid another round of smug I-told-you-so”s about how I”m just a useless disappointment who”ll never live up to her potential.”

I watch in silence as she drains the last of her bourbon, swiping angrily at the shimmer of moisture gathered in her lashes. There”s a rawness to her words, an undercurrent of hurt and frustration, that resonates deep in my bones.

”That”s a helluva lot to carry around with you,” I finally murmur. ”No wonder you’re so damn wound up.”

Emma”s mouth curves in a sad approximation of a smile. ”Yeah, well. We can”t all be blissfully unencumbered mountain men, can we?”

I huff out a breath, rubbing the back of my neck. ”Trust me, princess—my life ain”t exactly some carefree, nature-loving fairytale.”

She arches an eyebrow in silent challenge, and I let out a resigned sigh, scrubbing a hand down my whiskered jaw.

”I haven”t always lived like this, you know. Up until a few years ago, I was just as much of a corporate drone as you, working sixty-hour weeks in a soulless cubicle, wearing a tie like a damn noose.”

Her lips part on a soft inhale, those expressive green eyes going wide with surprise. I give a rueful shake of my head, staring into the dancing flames as the weight of the memories settles over me once more.

”Then my sister got sick. Real sick, real fast. And before I knew what was happening, all those late nights and soul-sucking meetings didn”t mean a damn thing anymore. All that mattered was being there for her.”

I swallow hard against the lump forming in my throat, my hands clenching into white-knuckled fists. ”After she died, I didn”t want to waste one more second of this life on meaningless bullshit that didn”t light me up inside, you know? So, I walked away from it all. Sold off everything, used the money to start over out here, and never looked back.”

Silence hangs thick between us, the weight of my confession pressing down like a physical force. I chance a glance at Emma, half-expecting to find pity or discomfort in her expression. But those emerald eyes hold only understanding.

”I”m so sorry, Caleb,” she murmurs, reaching out to lay one small hand over my clenched fist. The simple gesture loosens something in my chest, allowing me to exhale a slow, steadying breath.

”It”s been a few years,” I say gruffly. ”I”m okay. Better than okay, really—I finally feel like myself again out here. At peace.”

Emma nods, squeezing my hand once before pulling back. ”I get that. Being in the city, with all its noise and chaos is suffocating sometimes. Like you”re just going through the motions, day after day, without any real purpose beyond chasing some arbitrary definition of success.”

She sighs softly, raking her fingers through those tousled chestnut waves. ”Don”t get me wrong, I”ve worked my ass off to get where I am. And I”m proud as hell of what I”ve accomplished, despite my mother”s constant dismissals. But lately...” She trails off, worrying her lower lip. ”Lately, it just hasn”t felt like enough, you know? There has to be more to life than this endless corporate rat race.”

I study her in silence, taking in the weary slump of those elegant shoulders, the shadows of fatigue smudged beneath her eyes. And I see a hell of a lot more of myself reflected in her than I”d ever expected.

Maybe that”s why this connection between us has dug in so deep, despite all the reasons it shouldn”t make any sense. Because for the first time in a long damn time, I”ve encountered someone else who understands the bone-deep need to break free and live life on my own terms. Even if she hasn’t realized it yet.

The crackle of the dying fire seems to grow louder in the silence that stretches between us. Emma sets aside her empty mug, worrying her lower lip as she steals a glance my way.

”I should... probably let you get some rest,” she murmurs, moving to stand. But her hand lingers on my forearm for a beat. ”Actually... would you... I mean, do you want to lie down, too? With me?”

My brows wing upward as the implication behind her softly spoken words sinks in. Sleeping beside her. In the bed. Pressed together beneath those hand-stitched quilts, all sleep-warmed skin and tangled limbs.

Christ, just the thought of it has heat unfurling low in my gut.

Emma must sense my hesitation because she rushes on in a breathless tumble of words. ”You don”t have to, obviously. It was a stupid suggestion. I just thought—well, it”s been a long day, and this couch isn”t, you know... very comfortable…”

She trails off with a helpless shrug, her teeth worrying that lush lower lip again. And damn if the sight of it doesn”t make me want to lean in and soothe the reddened flesh with my own mouth.

Emma”s gaze drops to her lap. ”You know what, forget I said anything. I”ll just—”

”Alright.”

The gruff word falls from my lips before I can reconsider, and those emerald eyes snap back to mine, rounded with surprise. A slow, almost giddy smile blooms across her face, and I can”t resist the urge to reach out and tuck an errant strand of chestnut hair behind her ear, my fingers lingering to brush her flushed cheek.

With a soft exhale, Emma rises to her feet and holds out her hand in silent invitation. My calloused palm slips into hers as she leads the way to the bed, limping slightly, and climbs in, pulling back the covers for me to slide in beside her.

She snuggles up against my side, her delicate curves molding to the hard planes of my body like she was crafted to fit there, and I fight the urge to pull away, unaccustomed to such casual intimacy.

”God, you”re like a furnace,” she murmurs, her soft exhale tickling the hollow of my throat. Before I can respond, she presses her frigid feet against my calves, and I jolt at the icy touch with a muttered curse.

”Sorry,” Emma laughs, not sounding the least bit apologetic. ”My toes are always ice blocks.”

”Clearly,” I grumble, though there”s no real bite behind the words.

She hums contentedly, draping one arm across my abdomen as she burrows deeper into my side. The simple, trusting gesture has something in my chest tightening in a wholly unfamiliar way.

Slowly, I allow the tension to bleed from my muscles, sinking back against the lumpy mattress with a weary sigh. Emma seems to sense the shift in me, because she presses a soft kiss to the curve of my shoulder before settling her head in the crook of my neck.

The crackle of dying embers fills the stillness between us, casting flickering shadows across the slanted beams above. I find myself matching my breathing to the steady rise and fall of Emma”s ribcage, allowing the comforting weight of her to anchor me in this strange new intimacy.

Having her tangled up with me like this shouldn”t feel so natural. Not when everything about our worlds is so vastly different, destined to diverge the second she”s able to hike back down that mountain trail.

But as the minutes drift by in a cocoon of tranquil silence, I can”t muster even a shred of resistance against the contentment slowly seeping into my bones.

I”ve spent so long carving out this solitary existence, convincing myself it”s the only way I can find peace. That shutting the rest of the world out is the key to healing the jagged wounds left by loss and disappointment.

Yet in this moment, with Emma”s soft curves molded to mine and her steady breaths ghosting against my skin, I”ve never felt so complete.

The realization is terrifying.

Emma lets out a contented hum, her fingers idly tracing patterns over my abdomen as she drifts toward sleep. I tighten my arm around her in response, drawing her closer until there”s no space left between us.

For once, the solitude I”ve so fiercely guarded doesn”t feel like a comfort. Instead, it looms like a threat, an empty expanse awaiting the inevitable moment this tranquil intimacy is shattered.

I swallow hard against the knot of uncharacteristic longing in my throat and press my lips to the crown of Emma”s head, breathing in her hair”s soft, floral scent.

In this moment, she”s mine. And I”ll be damned if I don”t soak up every second of it while I can.