Chapter 33
Dummy Runner: An offensive tactic where a player on the attacking team runs toward the opposition as if running onto a pass, only for the
ball to be passed to another player.
Translation: Cat and Mouse.
Wolf
It’s quiet in Everly’s SUV after I’ve dropped Claire off back in Boulder. Both she and Everly had been drinking, so neither
was in any condition to drive themselves anywhere.
I’m glad I showed up when I did.
The truth is, I’d been there for a while.
I didn’t expect to feel so on edge when Everly told me she was going out with Claire tonight. In fact, I thought it would
be good for her to go see her friend. We both need to come up for air and touch some grass. Figure out what the fuck we’re
doing because somewhere along the way, things between us have started to feel a lot less casual on Fletcher Mountain.
But as the sun went down, I felt myself growing more and more anxious. I started thinking about those nights at Trinity when
she would run the dating clinics and how loads of guys would be there, surrounding her. Taking advantage of her kindness.
So . . . I decided to just go down the hill and grab some groceries. Maybe I’d stop by and say hello to her mate. Keep it casual. Keep it light. But before I even hit the car park, I saw the group of cyclists whizzing down the highway, parking their bikes in that cocky way that agitates me.
When you grow up being bullied a lot of your life, you can spot a bully quite easily. And those guys reeked of entitlement.
So, I watched them through the window. I positioned myself outside the pub, saw Everly and Claire at the bar talking to Judy,
and told myself they would be fine. They didn’t need me.
Until he touched Everly. My Everly.
The only word that came out of my mouth at the time was “Mine.”
The rest is a bit of a blur, and it all ended in a way I never would have seen coming. Not for a million years.
I glance over at Everly as she stares out the window with a thoughtful look on her face. I wonder if she’s regretting what
she said to me earlier. Maybe it was the booze talking or the heightened emotions after the fight.
“Can I ask how many drinks you had tonight?”
Her head snaps to me. “I’m not drunk if that’s what you mean,” she replies defensively. “I had two drinks. Barely. Didn’t
finish the last one.”
“Are you certain?” I ask, my brows furrowed. “Because I need to know if you meant what you said outside the Mercantile. I
wouldn’t mind if you wanted to take it back. It’s not something—”
“I meant it,” she says, cutting me off and releasing a heavy breath in the quiet of her car. “I want to experience the feeling
of you following me in the dark.” Her voice is low and husky, and I can’t help but clock the way she’s running her palms over
her thighs. Like she’s struggling with her own arousal as she adds softly, “Like if I go for a walk by the creek behind my
cabin . . . I want to know what it would feel like to have you follow me or watch me . . .” She clears her throat. “Maybe
even chase me.”
Heat instantly crawls up my spine, my chest tight with a mixture of desire and restraint. “I think you’re describing primal play, Everly.”
She swallows thickly, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. “Maybe I am. Maybe that’s my thing.”
“Fuck,” I groan, looking away from her as my cock thickens in my jeans. My girl doesn’t do anything half-arsed. “You’re playing
with fire again, love.”
Her lips twitch into a small smile. “Then turn me to ash, Conri.”
The moon is a sliver tonight, pouring just a tiny glow over the creek that winds behind Everly’s cabin. The air is heavy and
still, the kind of balmy summer night that makes your skin feel damp.
I move quietly through the trees, trying not to step on any sticks, my breath slow and steady.
Everly’s short blonde hair glows in the darkness, like a siren calling me in as I slowly make my way closer to her.
I’m rock fucking hard.
I have been since the moment she said, “Give me a twenty-second head start,” and took off behind her house and up along the
winding creek, well out of eyeline from any of the cabins.
I can see the faint sway of her white dress where the water catches it in flashes. Everly Fletcher, wandering in the woods
at night like she hasn’t a care in the world, is a fucking fantasy that I’ve lost sleep over.
Except now she knows I’m here, and she welcomes it.
It’s a dangerous thing, being wanted for the most secret parts of yourself. But apparently, she’s just as dark as me because
this is all her idea. She wants me to follow her, catch her, and take her right here in the woods. Christ.
Her laugh drifts back through the trees, low and taunting, and it makes every muscle in my body snap tight. She knows I’m close. She’s daring me to find her, but I like to watch.
I’ve learned a lot about this woman watching her all these years. She hides her loneliness by staying busy—always matchmaking,
always helping—but when I’d watch her closely, I noticed she’d often seem like the odd one out in her own story. She’d be
surrounded by people, yet sometimes she’d linger at the edge of a group like she didn’t quite believe she belonged. I hated
watching that, yet I liked it too. I liked that I could see beyond that glossy, sunshiny persona she displayed for everyone
else.
I kept tabs on her, not just because I was worried about her, but because I yearned to see those little shadows she thought
she was hiding. Those were my favorite parts.
As I’ve watched her these past several weeks on Fletcher Mountain, those dark spots are brighter now. She’s more confident
in her own skin. It’s what made her even more impossible to resist. She’s finally just being herself.
Branches whip at my forearms as I push through the brush, keeping my eyes locked on every rustle of her dress. She moves slowly,
meandering along the water, not really trying to escape. No—she wants me to prowl after her in the dark like a starving animal
hunting for a meal.
She pauses for a beat, maybe to see if she can feel where I am. Or maybe she’s just teasing me with her silence. My cock aches
at the thought of her glancing over her shoulder, knowing I’m somewhere out here, stalking her every move. I bet her nipples
are hard under that wisp of a dress.
I step behind a tree and eye her bare legs under the moonlight, her dress riding high as she climbs up onto a boulder.
She’s breathing harder now, but still smiling, still tempting me like the wicked little siren she is.
And all I can think is how much longer I’ll let her play before I pin her against the rough bark of this tree and remind her exactly who’s hunting whom.
She steps onto the shallow rock bed in the water, kicking her toes in the cool spring, and tilts herself just enough to show
me the silhouette of her luscious curves.
Christ, she’s good at this game.
I grip the tree, my fingers digging into the bark so much I feel a sliver lodge itself behind my nail. My breath catches when
she pulls a strap of her dress down off her shoulder and then the other one, exposing her full, succulent breasts to me in
a way that makes my cock throb.
A twig snaps under my boot, and her shoulders stiffen. “Who’s there?” she gasps, role-playing to utter perfection.
Any bloke who would ever think this girl is too much doesn’t deserve to live.
My blood heats with a familiar hot rush that I got every time I followed her home from Mulligans. If I’m being honest with
myself, I was turned on then too. I did it for her protection, but the longer I did it without her knowing, the more I morphed
into the beast I couldn’t control. This hungry, feral beast that wanted to be fed.
I wanted to be caught. I wanted her to know I was there.
And in my fantasy . . . she wanted to be hunted.
She wanted to be mine.
Just like now.
“You lost, love?” My voice comes out low and rough, my arousal completely taking over.
Her hands reach up to cup her breasts, but she doesn’t turn around. “No,” she says softly, fingers sliding over her nipples.
“But I think someone’s following me.”
My pulse kicks hard as I stalk closer, slow, deliberate, my boots loud in the quiet of night. She exhales like she’s been holding her breath for me, and I can almost smell her arousal from here.
Christ, I bet she’s dripping down her thighs.
“Maybe you should run,” I murmur, sucking in a deep breath to prepare myself to chase if she takes off.
She turns around to face me, dropping her hands to show me her perfect teardrop breasts. My mouth waters at the sight of them.
Of her. Of every square inch of her lush body.
“Maybe I want to be caught,” she croaks, her voice as breathy as mine as her hard nipples point directly at me.
My control snaps, and in a flash, she’s in my arms, legs wrapped tight around my waist, my hands roughly palming her breasts
and ass as I feast on her lips like an animal eating its first kill of the season. The heat of her sex grinds against my cock,
which is straining hard in my jeans. I carefully march us away from the creek to a nearby grassy area, and she cries out when
I lay her down and reach between her legs to rip her soaked panties off her body.
She’s feral as she opens my jeans and grips my cock with so much pressure I can’t help but roar and thrust into her chest.
She releases me to pull my weight down on top of her, nails digging into my back as my bare cock rubs between her folds.
“No condom,” she rasps, her hand reaching down and positioning me at her opening. “I’m on the pill.”
I die a little inside, muttering obscenities in Irish, but waste no time before thrusting into her, hard, fast, and deliciously
bare.
“Fuck,” I groan into her neck, my entire body vibrating with stimulation overload and feelings I can’t even begin to understand.
“Fuck, Everly, you feel so good.”
“Yes, Conri,” she cries, raking her nails down my back as her lips brush my jaw. “I’m going to come already. Oh my God.”
She’s wild and uncontrolled as I thrust in and out of her, feeling her first climax grip me suddenly as I struggle to fight my own off. I want this to last. I want to remember this experience forever. I want to be with Everly forever.
Except I shouldn’t want her forever. She’s not mine to want.
She arches into me, and I growl low, throat tight. She’s undoing me. I should pull back. Slow things down. Keep it safe. Distant.
Watching from a distance kept me free. Stalking her kept me safe.
But I catch her eyes and see that same fire, that same hunger, that same crazy, desperate need to feel seen mirroring me back,
and it has me undone. I’ve kept so much locked away. Anger, guilt, shame, insecurity . . . she’s broken through all of that,
and I let her. I welcomed it.
Maybe that makes me crazy too, but all I’m hearing is that you saw me in a way I’ve never felt seen before . . . I see you
too, Conri.
The world outside disappears, and all that exists is her. Her scent, her laugh, the way she bites her lip when she wants me
to kiss her. The way she makes me see the world in full color.
And when she shivers under me and holds me close as I release myself inside of her, giving her the very last bits of me that
I’ve never given anyone, I know there’s no turning back now.
And God help me, I don’t think I want to.