Uncharted Territory

23. Emma

23

Emma

M y hands fly up to cover my mouth in the dark. I hold perfectly still, except for my toes, which are still curling with the aftershocks of my orgasm, and my heart, which is pounding erratically against my chest. I can hear it in my ears, drowning out the quiet sounds of the forest that surrounds me.

Maybe Garrett is asleep.

Maybe he didn’t just hear his name slip past my lips.

Then again, I could hear every little sound in his tent earlier. Even the slightest adjustment of his pillow or shift of his body was audible from my tent. Which means he can also hear every noise I make.

I was so careful. So quiet. Only to blow it at the last possible second.

I consider my options. I could say his name again to see if he’s still awake. I could pretend to ask some innocuous question. Although, not a single one comes to mind at the moment.

There’s no way he would buy it though. That sound was unmistakably a moan. Undeniably that kind of moan.

My cheeks grow hot against my hands. The seconds tick by without another noise. Just when I think I might be in the clear, I hear it: the subtle shift of his weight in the sleeping bag. Part of me dies a little of embarrassment, and the other part wonders why. Just a few hours ago, we were making out and dry humping all over a private jet. It’s no secret that the whole ordeal left us both unfulfilled.

So what if I took matters into my own hands?

Literally…

Garrett clears his throat, and I can’t help but wonder if he wants me to know that he heard. And when the nylon sleeping bag begins to rustle again in slow, steady movements I can’t help but wonder if he wants me to hear that, too. There’s only one thing he could be doing.

I close my eyes and imagine his hand wrapped around his cock. I wonder if he was hard already from the memory of our encounter on the plane, or if he’s growing harder as he works his hand back and forth over his length.

My muscles are rigid, and my breaths are shallow. The involuntary clench of my thighs is the only movement I make as I listen intently to the rhythmic slide of his knuckles against the slippery nylon fabric of his sleeping bag. After a few minutes, the pace quickens and a low, raspy groan wafts through the air. I smile to myself, and eventually drift off to sleep.

A few hours later, I wake up shivering violently. I burrow deeper into my sleeping bag, but it does very little to fend off the cold. It feels like it might be near freezing outside, which I hadn’t anticipated in the middle of summer. Unfortunately, in an effort to pack light, all my pajamas are threadbare t-shirts and lightweight sleep shorts. Squeezing my eyes closed, I will myself to go back to sleep, but my body continues to shake and spasm against the cold.

The zipper of my tent parts a few minutes later. Before my brain can make sense of what’s happening, Garrett crawls into my tent.

“Scoot over,” he says quietly but firmly.

I waste no time obeying, not only because I’m craving his warmth but because I’m craving him. The thought excites me and scares me in equal parts.

Garrett slips into my sleeping bag, zipping it back up around us. It’s a snug fit, pressing me tight against him. Large, muscular arms wrap around me, tucking me against his chest. I nuzzle my face into his neck, savoring his warmth. Strong hands rub up and down my back. Thighs brush against mine.

His mouth is right next to my ear when he speaks. “Didn’t you bring anything warmer to sleep in?”

I shake my head.

“I’m going to have a talk with Taylor when we get back about this wardrobe she concocted for you,” Garrett says.

My stomach drops a notch. Sooner or later, I’m going to have to fill him in on the women’s attire situation in his stores, but not right now. Not when there are so many other unspoken words between us.

“I’m okay,” I say.

“Emma, I could hear your teeth chattering all the way over in my tent. It was keeping me awake.”

“S-sorry,” I manage.

“Don’t be.”

Hands travel lower, skating up and down my back, stopping just above the curve of my ass. I relish every touch, melting into Garrett as I start to thaw.

Once my teeth finally stop clattering, I summon up every ounce of nerve I have and reply, “It sounded like you were doing a pretty good job of keeping yourself awake over there.”

A quiet chuckle reverberates through Garrett’s chest. “Suppose so. Now, go back to sleep.”

“Are you going to stay?” I ask, trying and failing to tamp down the hope in my voice.

“Of course.”

Warmth envelopes me. My muscles begin to relax, and sleep washes over me, but not before Garrett presses a soft kiss to my temple.

Morning comes with a strange mix of sensations. The rising sun filling the small tent with light and heat. A bird squawking loudly overhead. And a warm body pressed up against mine.

I can’t remember the last time I slept next to anyone. It was probably the guy I dated briefly almost four years ago. There have been a couple others since him, but none that lasted more than a few dates, and none that ever stayed the entire night.

Garrett shifts around me. His beard tickles my cheek, and his hand slides down my back, stopping at my waist. A big, raspy sigh rises from his chest.

“Did you sleep okay?” he asks.

I nod against his shoulder. “Did you?”

“Mmhmm,” he hums.

The low chatter of the rest of our group in the distance tells me that it’s time to get up, but no part of me wants to move. In fact, if they accidentally left us behind, I’d be perfectly content to spend the next four days lying right here in this tent with Garrett. Whatever this thing between us is, I think it could survive here in the wild. It’s the real world outside of this little bubble we’ve created that worries me. In the real world, Garrett is my boss. In the real world, Garrett North and I do not get along. Something’s obviously changed, but I’m hesitant to presume that those changes will last after this trip is over.

“We should probably get up,” I reluctantly mutter into his t-shirt.

Garrett adjusts to lie on his back. His arms tighten around me, taking me with him as he does. My head finds a comfortable spot on his shoulder and my arm drapes across his stomach. My leg wraps around one of his, and his thigh brushes the sensitive spot between my legs.

“Just another minute,” Garrett sighs.

And for once, I have no desire to argue with him.

“I thought you said this hike would be flat,” I pant, stopping on the narrow trail to catch my breath.

“It is…mostly.”

“My thighs beg to differ.”

We’ve fallen into a familiar routine, pulling over every half hour or so to give me a break while Garrett messes with my tent. At this point, I wouldn’t mind if the stupid thing took a flying leap off the side of this mountain and burst into flames at the bottom. Garrett seems just as displeased with the tent situation as he jostles me and my pack around trying for the millionth time to secure the tent.

“It’s not much further to the top,” Garrett says when he’s done.

I nod and begrudgingly take a step forward when I hear a loud rip, followed by a sharp tug on one shoulder. The weight of my pack shifts to one side, throwing me off balance. I stumble a few steps, and Garrett reaches out to steady me. My pack slides down my arm, landing in the dirt with a thump.

“You okay?” he asks, setting me upright.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

We both look down at my destroyed bag. One shoulder strap is ripped clean off, and there’s a large tear in the seam where it was previously attached. Garrett leans down to pick it up and dust it off.

As frustrated as I am with the crappy hiking pack that I’ve been lugging around for the past few weeks, I know Garrett is even more frustrated. And I know where that conversation leads. He already broached the topic in the tent last night. He wants to talk to Taylor about the clothing she provided for this trip. Eventually, we need to discuss True North’s sizing issues and how to solve them, but not right now when I’m sweaty and exhausted and lugging a broken bag uphill.

Admittedly, it’s my pride getting in the way more than my exhaustion. I don’t know what this thing between us is or where it’s going, but I do know that having a discussion about my inability to squeeze into a pair of hiking pants is the last thing I’d like to do with Garrett.

“I can fix it,” I rush to say. “I brought a sewing kit.”

Garrett looks off in the distance toward the winding trail that disappears up the mountain. He squints against the setting sun, eyes glinting with shades of silver. “We should be hitting camp pretty soon,” he says. “You can fix it up there. I’ll carry it the rest of the way.”

“I can do it now. It’ll just take a few minutes.”

“We’re losing daylight pretty fast. We should get to camp.”

Garrett and I square off, exchanging annoyed expressions, but they lack their usual bite. When Garrett’s heated gaze dips to my mouth, the tension surrounding us morphs into something else. But as he already pointed out, there’s no time to act on it. Slowly peeling my eyes away, I reluctantly mutter, “Alright, let’s get to camp then.”

After a short but strenuous hike to the top of the mountain, we join the group at our campsite for the night. The guides instruct us all to set up our tents while they prepare dinner. I’m not particularly looking forward to another night of bland, rehydrated food, but I am very much looking forward to another night with Garrett.

I get to work repairing the broken strap on my bag while Garrett sets up his tent between two trees, far removed from the rest of the group. When he’s finished, he looks over at me and then down at the tattered tent lying at my feet.

“Want me to set up your tent for you?” he asks.

My heart sinks a little. Fighting off a frown, I shake my head and keep my eyes trained on the needle that I’m weaving in and out of the cheap nylon fabric. “That’s okay, I can do it in a minute.”

Silence falls over us. I feel Garrett’s eyes on me as I work.

“We’re at a higher elevation here. It’ll probably be colder than last night,” he says. The tension in his voice is palpable. “If you wanted to share again, that would be fine with me.”

“Okay, sure,’ I say, trying not to sound too eager.

I glance up at Garrett, who gives me a single nod, then I resume sewing. It takes several rows of stitches before the strap is secure enough to hold the weight of my pack. Even so, it may not survive for more than a day or two. By the time I’m finished, we’re late for dinner.

Tonight, it’s macaroni and cheese with rehydrated green beans. Garrett and I both fill a bowl and take a seat around the fire with the rest of the group. Everyone’s already chatting, but the woman to my left pulls away from her conversation to introduce herself and her husband.

“I’m Emma, and this is Garrett,” I reply, motioning to him as he takes a bite of food.

“Nice to meet you. Are you two newlyweds?” the woman asks.

Garrett tenses beside me. I feign an awkward smile and slide my gaze towards him. We exchange a commiserating look. How is it possible that, after four tours, we still haven’t gotten our story straight? Why are we so bad at this? We can’t claim to be coworkers or cousins. Not when a quick glance over our shoulders would confirm that we’re sharing one tent.

It would be easier to pretend that we’re married, but panic wells up in my throat and the words just fly out. “We’re not married,” I say.

“Oh,” the woman says, lifting both brows in surprise. “Sorry, I just assumed. You seemed like you might be newlyweds.”

“That’s okay. We’re just…” I start to say.

Just what? A boss and a soon-to-be-ex-employee who sometimes cuddle in tents and make out on planes?

Eek. That’s a mouthful, and way more information than these people need.

Beside me, Garrett clears his throat. “We’re friends.”

Friends.

The word sits warm and cozy in my chest. It’s not the entire truth, but it’s not a lie either, and it’s a million miles from where we started.

After we finish eating, I politely excuse myself to go get ready for bed. Tomorrow is another long day, but really, I’m just anxious to spend some time alone with Garrett in our little tent. I know we’re running out of time. We have three more nights together. Three more nights to figure out what this thing between us is, and where it might lead. A gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach tells me that if we don’t figure it out before the trip is over, we don’t stand a chance of figuring it out once we get back to Denver.

Garrett makes his way over to the tent after I finish putting on my pajamas and brushing my teeth. I crawl into the tent and get settled in the sleeping bag. Not far from the tent, I can hear Garrett brushing his teeth, unbuckling his belt, unzipping his fly. I swallow hard as I lay there in the darkness.

A few minutes later, he joins me in the tent. Neither of us says a word as he zips up the flap and slides into the sleeping bag beside me. The warmth of his body fills the space around me. With my arms pinned between our chests, my fingers curl into my palms, unsure of where to land. Garrett’s hands slide down my sides and around my back. I relax into him, eventually letting my fingers uncurl and rest lightly against his chest.

When he exhales a deep breath, it skates along the shell of my ear and makes me shiver.

“Cold?” he asks.

Before I can answer, his hands are already rubbing up and down my back to warm me up. But it isn’t the cold that prickles at my skin or that makes me burrow a little closer into his chest, it’s the need to be closer to him. The need to feel his hands in other places. My lips rest a hair’s breadth from the column of his throat, tingling with the urge to be closer. To taste the warmth and salt of his skin. My heart beats wildly and my skin buzzes with electricity. It’s now or never. I take a deep, calming breath and let it out. With the smallest movement of my head, my lips ghost across his skin just below his beard.

Garrett’s throat bobs beneath my lips. His hands freeze against my back, fingers digging softly into my skin.

Parting my lips, I let them drag slowly across his neck again. It’s undeniably a kiss this time. Garrett inhales sharply then releases it in a raspy groan.

The thick cord of tension between us snaps. A hand comes up to my chin, tilting it up towards him. Garrett’s eyes capture mine, studying them for a short moment before his mouth crashes against mine. His lips devour me. His tongue coaxes mine in deep, rough strokes.

I press tightly against his body, desperate to feel every inch of him. My hands sink into his hair. His thumb traces my jaw, demanding that I arch my head to one side as his lips find a new home on my neck. Kissing, licking, nipping at my flesh as I silently plead for more.

When his knee nudges my legs apart and his thigh nestles against my aching core, a breathy moan rises from my throat. I roll my hips, seeking relief.

Garrett growls hungrily against my skin. Suddenly, I’m on my back with Garrett’s weight bearing down on me. His thigh is replaced by something even harder as my knees fall open for him. He presses his rigid length against my clit, dragging himself across my center in slow, steady thrusts. I moan at the delicious pressure, spreading my legs even further for him.

It would be easy to chase the same pleasure I felt on the plane. I could come like this, but I don’t want to. I want him. All of him.

“Garrett,” I rasp. “I need to feel you inside of me.”

He stills on top of me. When he doesn’t say anything right away, I begin to flush with red, hot shame about how blatantly horny I am for him.

Truthfully though, it isn’t just about lust. I feel something for Garrett. Somehow, a warm, cozy little feeling burrowed its way into the ice-cold hatred that I once felt for him, and now, it’s spreading like wildfire. He’s already inside me. All I want is to feel the physical proof of that. I’m burning either way. Whether or not Garrett feels the same will determine if I go down in flames or rise from the ashes.

“Emma.”

The way he says my name with a regretful sigh almost breaks me. I know what comes next. My heart feels so heavy I think I might sink into the ground.

I press my eyes closed and nod like I understand. Maybe then, I won’t have to hear his words of rejection out loud.

“Emma, look at me,” Garrett says softly. When I force my eyes open and look up at him, his eyes are filled with fondness, but his expression is etched with regret. “I don’t have a condom.”

Oh.

OH.

My heart soars for a brief second when I realize that I misinterpreted the situation but comes crashing back down when I consider the implication of Garrett’s words. On one hand, it makes sense that he wouldn’t bring condoms on a work trip. On the other, I thought every man carried a spare in his wallet.

“When was the last time you were with anyone else?” I ask after a few long seconds.

“A year…maybe a year and a half ago.”

It takes every ounce of self-control that I can muster not to let my jaw drop at his answer. Instead, I press my lips together and hold his gaze.

“Have you been tested since then?” I ask.

He nods.

“It’s been a while for me, too,” I say. No need to tell him that I’m pretty sure I have his year, year-and-a-half beat. “I’ve been tested since, and I have an IUD.”

Garrett says nothing, assumes nothing.

“I trust you,” I whisper into the narrow space between us. “And I still want to…if you do, of course.”

He sucks in a deep breath and nods then his lips crash against mine. The way our tongues wrestle and our hands claw at each other is absolutely feral. There’s something wild and intoxicating about knowing that we’re finally on the same page. We’re really going to do this.

Garrett yanks my shirt up to my collarbone, palming my breast as he kisses me. I arch into his touch. When he pulls back to take in the sight of all my exposed skin, a flicker of anxiety spirals through me. I wonder how well he can see the squishier parts of my stomach in the dark.

The ghost of a curse word leaves his lips, reduced to nothing but a ragged breath as it fills the tent. It’s not the noise of someone who doesn’t like what they see. My insecurities melt away as Garrett runs a splayed hand over my stomach and around the curve of my breast. The soft pad of his thumb runs across my nipple, drawing it to a stiff peak. Fingers capture it, pulling it taut as I gasp into the dark. A second later, a wet tongue washes away the mild pain. He closes his lips over my nipple, and the pleasure radiates all the way down to my toes.

A hand slides down my stomach, disappearing under the waistband of my shorts and inside my panties. His fingers find me wet and needy.

“Is this all for me?” he mutters against my skin as he drags his fingers through my folds, spreading my arousal.

I nod, too breathless to speak.

His fingers slide up to my clit, rubbing slow circles. Tension curls inside my stomach. When two long, thick fingers push inside me, there’s a twinge of relief. But it’s not enough.

“Garrett.” His name leaves my lips in a shaky breath. “I need more. I need you.”

His fingers pause but don’t pull away. His chest expands against mine in a heavy breath. “Are you sure about this?” he asks.

“Yes,” I pant.

I watch as he sits back on his heels and pulls off his shirt. Slivers of moonlight filter through the fabric of the tent, casting a dull glow on the peaks and valleys of his chest and stomach. Gray sweatpants hang low on his hips. The V-shaped cut of his pelvis disappears below the waistband. When he pushes them down, his erection swings free and my eyes go wide. I’ve felt it through layers of clothing, but still didn’t expect him to be so big. Considering how long it’s been since I had sex with anyone, I can’t help but wonder if this might hurt a little.

Garrett leans forward, curling his fingers around the waistband of my shorts. I tilt my hips up and watch him drag them over my hips and down my legs, taking my panties along with them. My shirt is still pushed up to my collarbone. I leave it there, clinging to that last scrap of clothing like a security blanket.

Once I’m mostly naked, Garrett’s hands come to rest on my knees, gently pushing them apart and baring me to him. Nerves flutter under my skin.

Garrett’s eyes drag over me. They pause between my wide-open thighs, making me blush in the darkness. He looks back up at my face and says, “You’re so fucking beautiful, Emma. You have no idea how many times I’ve wanted to tell you that.”

My heart pinches in my chest.

He stares down at me, the tenderness in his gaze making my pulse race. His words seep into my skin, warming me against the cold night air.

Moving closer, Garrett drags his erection through my slippery folds. His tip nudges at my entrance, and I squirm with the need for more.

Garrett plants a hand near my head, lowering himself over me at the same time that he thrusts all the way inside. It steals my breath and makes my walls clench around him. It’s overwhelming to feel all of him at once. Not just his cock filling and stretching me, but all of his bare skin pressing against mine. All of his attention so squarely focused on me.

“Christ, Emma,” he hisses, muscles tensing. He holds himself deep inside of me and sucks in a long, choppy breath. “You feel too good. You gotta give me a minute, okay?”

“Yeah,” I nod breathlessly.

Truthfully, I could use a moment as well to adjust to his size and savor the feeling of my pussy stretching to accommodate him.

After several deep breaths, he starts moving inside of me. A slow drag out followed by a sharp, deep thrust. Each one pushes me a little closer to the edge of the cliff. By the time that he switches to a steady rhythm that hits in just the right spot, my palms are clutching the nylon fabric of the sleeping bag and the pool of desire deep inside me is threatening to spill over that cliff.

“Garrett, please…” I pant out.

“Please what, baby?” He says it like a command. “Tell me what you need.”

“Harder…”

Garrett bottoms out inside me with one rough thrust. I gasp and curl my toes at the delicious mix of pain and pleasure that spiral through me.

“More…please, more…”

He repeats the motion, eyes trained on my face the entire time. Garrett begins moving in rougher strokes, and I love every second of it. I want him at his wildest. I want the version of him that no one else sees.

“Look at you,” he says. “Taking it so perfectly. You’re so perfect.”

The affection in his eyes is unmistakable. The passion behind his words undeniable. It makes me feel invincible, but more importantly – it makes me feel cherished and safe in his arms.

My eyes flutter shut. My body trembles and my core clenches in satisfying waves.

“That’s it,” he coaxes, his hot breath skating along my tingling lips. “Open your eyes. Let me see those pretty eyes when you come.”

There is a moment where I wonder if the waves will ever stop. My orgasm stretches out for so long that I start to think it might be a medical emergency. But once it finally begins to fade, I look up at Garrett and see the tension in his shoulders and jaw. I feel him twitch inside me and then start to pull away.

“No,” I rasp, “Don’t pull out, Garrett. I want to feel you coming inside me.”

Instead of arguing, he thrusts deep inside of me. His cock pulses then floods me with warmth.

A low, satisfied groan fills the tent.

I savor every second, watching with both disbelief and affection as my boss – the man I’ve hated with every fiber of my being for the past year – tents his forehead against mine in the most intimate moment I’ve ever shared with someone.

Garrett’s eyes blink open a few seconds later. He presses a kiss gently to my lips before rolling off from me. His arms wrap around me, pulling me close. And even though my heart is racing inside my chest, my mind is at ease for the first time since we got off the plane.