Lost with the Mountain Man

Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

JESSAMY

S team curls against the smooth wood-paneled walls of the bathroom. A sleek glass shower door reflects the soft glow of an overhead light, muted by the haze. The shower itself feels modern and clean—a polished stone floor and brushed-nickel fixtures hinting at a man who appreciates simplicity but refuses to sacrifice comfort.

As soon as the cold shower spray touches my skin, I release a full-body shudder, a gasp catching in my throat. The shock jolts me, sending goosebumps racing along my arms. I brace a hand against the wall, feeling its cool, slick surface beneath my palm.

I exhale, closing my eyes as I embrace the chill. The droplets sting in the best way, running in rivulets down my skin, cooling the residual heat still pulsing within me. The water warms, a gradual tease that lulls me into a calm, until it’s hot.

Blissfully, decadently hot.

“Jessamy.”

Beau’s voice cuts through the steady hiss of the water as he steps into the shower. A cold draft snakes down my spine, making me shiver again. I smile despite myself, warmth and cold battling for dominance.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“I’m okay,” I reply, the words caught somewhere between honesty and disbelief. Drenched and shivering, I can still feel the firelight on my skin, the lingering memory of us tangled together on the floor.

And Malcolm.

Beau’s arms curl around my waist from behind, his bare chest pressing against my back. His warmth, solid and grounding, melts into me, soothing the last of the cold from my body. The water cascades over us both, drumming gently on my shoulders.

“Are you sure?” His voice carries a rough edge, concern flooding every syllable. “Christ, I’m so sorry.”

I turn in his embrace, eager to meet his gaze. His blue eyes scan me, searching, guilt flickering beneath their intensity. “Why?” I ask, curious and a little breathless.

He frowns, his hands gripping my sides. “I didn’t mean to…” He trails off, swallowing hard. “Was I too rough?”

A laugh escapes me, light and unbidden. I soften it with a smile, brushing my fingers along his chest. His skin feels warm, firm under my palms, and I let my touch linger at his shoulders, grounding him. “No, Beau.” I rise onto my toes to kiss him. “You weren’t too rough. You were… present,” I say, my smile playful and seductive. “It was the first time in a long time it felt like you were here. Really here.”

He exhales, relief softening the hard lines of his jaw. “It was like… I don’t know. I just had to have you.”

“Because of Malcolm,” I tease, the memory tugging the corners of my lips.

Give your wife an orgasm.

Or someone else will.

His jaw tightens, but the flare of jealousy doesn’t reach his eyes. “I should punch him in the mouth for that,” he mutters.

“Beau,” I say, running my fingers along the nape of his neck, trailing them lower as if mimicking the flow of the water. “I liked it. So did you.”

His hesitation hangs heavy in the humid air. The storm of emotions flickering in his expression makes my heart clench. When he finally exhales, his mouth pulls into a reluctant, crooked smile. “I’ve missed you, Jess,” he whispers, his voice dipping with affection.

I kiss his lips, brief but full of promise. “I’m here, Beau,” I say, threading my fingers into his damp hair. “Always have been.”

“I’m so sorry,” he says again, but this time the words carry more weight. He pulls me closer, his embrace tightening as though afraid I might slip away.

“I’m sorry for screwing up the weather forecast,” I joke, my hands sliding down his body, finding their way to his rear. I squeeze, drawing a startled chuckle from him before I press myself flush against him. The length of his desire is impossible to miss, and I feel a surge of heat bloom low in my belly. “Though, it’s fast becoming a sorry not sorry situation.”

“No.” His response is swift, punctuated by a deep, bruising kiss. “I’m sorry for making you feel neglected and…” He shakes his head, releasing another sigh as he pulls me closer. “For neglecting you,” he corrects himself, owning it. “And us. I know I’ve been working too hard. I just… I thought it’d be different by now. I thought…”

“Shh.” I hold him, taking on some of his weight. “You’re here now. With me.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers again.

The knot in my chest tightens, tears pricking at the edges of my lashes. I close my eyes against the ache, swallowing past the lump in my throat. “It’s okay,” I manage, though my voice wavers.

“No, it’s not.” Beau cups my face, his hands steady as he pulls me back to meet his gaze. “It’ll be different from now on. I won’t let myself make the same mistakes. We won’t fall into the same routine again. I promise.”

“Malcolm got under your skin with that one, too, huh?”

He doesn’t answer at first. “You like him,” he says at length.

I blink, startled by the lack of jealousy in his tone. “I do,” I admit. “I think he’s interesting.”

“I think he’s a sex-crazed pervert,” Beau replies dryly.

“But you like him, too.”

“I think he’s interesting,” he concedes. He presses a kiss to my forehead, sighing as he rests his chin on my damp hair. “What are we doing out here, Jess?”

I hold him close, the heat of the water soaking through every barrier between us. “Honestly, I don’t know,” I whisper. “But I don’t want to stop, either.”

His brows furrow. “How do you mean?”

“Look at us, Beau,” I say, my voice soft but certain. “How long has it been since we’ve felt this… alive?”

His eyes twinge with shame. “Too long.”

“Malcolm might just be a disgusting, sex-crazed pervert,” I tease. “But I can’t deny what I’m feeling now.” My voice drops as I murmur against him. “I can’t deny how good it felt… having his eyes on me while you were inside me.”

Beau captures my lips, cutting off my words. “You think if we made it to the Harmony Center, we’d be doing this right now?”

“Who knows?” I say between kisses. “Let’s not overthink it.”

“You’re really okay?” he asks, one last thread of hesitation lingering in his tone.

“Yes,” I breathe, tightening my hold on him. “I want you to do that to me again.” My words dissolve into his mouth as he kisses me harder, pressing me against the warm wall. “And again. And again…”

I give myself to him entirely, my cries of pleasure swallowed by the pounding of the water. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I wonder if Malcolm can hear us.

I hope so.

I exit the bathroom first, leaving behind the fragrant warmth of steam clinging to my skin. The main room of the cabin greets me with the gentle crackle of the fireplace, its glow dancing against the walls. The contrast of the cool floorboards beneath my feet sends a little shiver up my spine, even through my thick socks.

My hair, freshly washed and combed, hangs damp and heavy about my shoulders, sticking to my shirt. Unfortunately, I forgot my hair ties at home. And my hairdryer.

Before I can reach the fireplace for a moment of warmth, my eyes catch movement in the kitchen. Malcolm stands at the counter, his broad back to me as he works.

The sight of him makes me pause. Heat that has nothing to do with the fire flushes my cheeks. I clear my throat. “Hello,” I greet, my voice unsteady but polite.

He glances over his shoulder. “Hello,” he replies. “Sandwiches, if you’re hungry.”

“I am,” I admit as I move toward the counter. My gaze drops to the spread of sliced ham, cheese, and thick, golden bread. The sight makes my stomach rumble, and I laugh. “Could always go for a good old-fashioned ham and cheese.”

“Coming right up,” Malcolm says, his voice low and steady.

As he stacks ingredients with practiced ease, I can’t help but let my eyes linger on the strong lines of his profile—the sharp edge of his jaw, the way his beard catches the light.

To fill the silence, I say, “You have a really nice bathroom, by the way.”

His hands pause. “Thanks,” he says. “I remodeled it this year.”

“By yourself?”

“More or less.”

I nod, impressed. “Well, you did a good job.”

“I’m glad you found it pleasing,” he replies, his voice carrying a subtle edge.

I freeze.

Oh, he definitely heard us.

My skin prickles with a mix of embarrassment and thrill. “Sorry,” I say.

Malcolm chuckles; a low, rumbling sound. “It’s all right.”

I hug myself, seeking comfort as my gaze drifts back to him. “Though I almost suspect that was your plan all along.”

He pauses, knife poised midair above my sandwich, and glances at me with a raised brow. “My plan?”

“What’s your story, Malcolm?” I ask, tilting my head. “Are you really just some lonely pervert hiding out in the woods, waiting for unsuspecting couples to drift by and show you a good time?”

He breathes a laugh, the corner of his mouth quirking upward. “What if I am? Would that bother you?”

I meet his gaze, noticing for the first time the flecks of green in his hazel eyes. “No,” I say. “But I think there’s more to you than that.”

His smile fades to something more thoughtful as he slices the sandwich in half. “Maybe so,” he says.

He offers me the plate. As I take it, my stomach flips—not from hunger, but from the subtle weight of his attention. From curiosity. From desire.

I grip the plate a little tighter. “Did you mean what you said?” I ask, my voice steadier than I feel. “That if Beau couldn’t give me what I needed, then you would?”

Malcolm smirks, a knowing look in his eye. “I didn’t say that.”

“Well, it worked,” I say, challenging him with a faint smile. “You knew just what to say to push Beau’s buttons. Make him jealous.”

“Men aren’t that complex. Would you like that toasted?” he asks, gesturing to the sandwich in my hands.

I consider it for a moment, then nod. “Actually, yeah. That’d be great.”

He takes the plate back, sliding it into the toaster oven by the sink. The cabin fills with a soft hum as I take another chance to admire him—his broad shoulders, his solid frame, the casual strength in every move he makes. He looks like he belongs here, yet there’s something polished about him, too, like a man who’s lived in two very different worlds.

“You didn’t answer my question,” I press.

“Because I didn’t say what you say I said.”

“But would you?”

He turns, his gaze steady as it locks with mine. “You’re a beautiful woman, Jessamy,” he says. “Any man would consider himself lucky to have you.”

“Is that a yes?”

Malcolm steps forward, closing the space between us just enough to make my pulse stutter. “Do you often seek the attention of other men while your husband isn’t around?” he asks, his voice calm but edged with something sharper.

The question stings, and I recoil. “No. Of course not.”

He studies me.

“I’ve never been unfaithful to my husband,” I add.

“With the disconnect between the two of you, it’s only natural that you’d seek comfort elsewhere.”

“That’s not what’s happening here.”

“What is happening here?”

I falter, unsure how to answer. Because… I don’t know.

Malcolm softens, his shoulders relaxing as he steps back. “I believe you, Jessamy,” he says. “You’ve never been unfaithful to your husband.”

I nod.

His gaze dips, tracing me with quiet intent. “You saw the way I looked at you by the fire,” he says, his tone gentle. “At both of you.”

A soft tremor courses through me. I arch a brow in response and he looks away, his confidence slipping before my very eyes.

In the space of a blink, he steadies himself. “You’re a beautiful couple,” he says.

“We are,” I say, lifting my chin a little higher.

“So, I doubt either of us would want to do anything to disrupt your happiness,” he says, his tone measured. “Would you agree with that?”

I nod, the moment curling around my heart like a blanket. “Of course.” And yet, curiosity lingers, a quiet whisper in my mind. “Are you happy, Malcolm?” I ask, mirroring his question from last night.

He inhales, holding it for a beat before answering. “I was once,” he says.

“Not anymore?”

“Not for a long time, no.”

His voice carries a note of sadness that tugs at something deep within me. I step closer, drawn forward, my space invading his. But he doesn’t pull away. “I’m sorry,” I say.

Malcolm shakes his head. “Don’t be,” he says. “I’ll be all right.”

“What would make you happy, Malcolm?” I ask. “You’ve helped me and Beau. Feels wrong not to return the favor. Somehow.”

For a long moment, he just looks at me, his eyes brimming with thought. Then his gaze slips toward my lips and he exhales, his hands coming to touch my shoulders. I tremble from the thrill, from the taboo of being so close to him.

“If I kissed you now,” he asks, “do you think your husband would mind?”

The word yes fills my head; the obvious answer. Of course he would mind! What kind of husband would be okay with a stranger kissing his wife?

But the words never quite reach my tongue. Instead, I swallow hard, his towering presence taking over me.

“I don’t know,” I answer.

Without a word, Malcolm guides me a step back. His hands slip from my shoulders as the bathroom door opens.

Beau steps into the room, clothed, his hair damp and tousled from the shower. He stops in his tracks for a moment, his gaze flicking between Malcolm and me. Then he smiles, polite but just a shade awkward.

“Hey,” he greets, his tone light as he approaches us. “What’d I miss?”

The toaster oven dings, jolting me out of the moment. “Lunch!” I say. “You hungry?”

“You two eat,” Malcolm says, already moving toward the door with long, purposeful strides. He throws on his coat, his broad frame seeming to absorb the room’s tension as he passes. “I’ll go fetch some more firewood.”

“You’re not joining us?” Beau asks him.

“Yeah, stay,” I say. “We can chat some more. Maybe get to know you a little better?”

Malcolm pauses, one hand on the doorframe. He looks tempted for a brief second, but then shakes his head, his mind made up. “Sun’s as high as it’s gonna get today,” he says, his deep voice carrying a practical finality. “No better time than now to chop some wood.”

“I’ll go with you,” Beau says.

“What?” I laugh nervously. “You’ve never chopped anything before in your life.”

Beau shrugs, a sly edge to his tone. “Might as well learn. And it’ll give us a chance to talk. Man-to-man. If that’s all right with you, Malcolm?”

The air shifts, and my gaze bounces between them. Malcolm tilts his head, considering Beau for a long moment before nodding. “That’s fine with me,” he says. “Bundle up. We can double the load together.”

Beau plants a quick kiss on my cheek, his lips warm against my flushed skin, before heading to grab his coat. I watch him go, heat blooming where his kiss lingers, still aware of Malcolm’s unyielding gaze.

As Beau bundles up, Malcolm’s gaze hovers on me for just a heartbeat too long. Then, with a faint nod, he pulls open the door and he and Beau step out into the cold.

“Brr,” I whisper to myself.