Chapter 5 Lottie
five
Lottie
I should go back to the lodge.
It's past eleven, the festival is winding down, and I have an early morning planned. A sensible woman would thank Jakob for a lovely evening and retreat to her room to process this unexpected attraction in solitude.
Instead, I find myself walking beside him through Silver Ridge's quiet streets, our hands occasionally brushing as we move through pools of streetlight and shadow.
Each innocent contact sends electricity shooting up my arm, and I'm hyperaware of his presence beside me—the way his long stride easily matches my shorter one, the subtle scent of pine and something uniquely masculine that clings to his skin.
"Thank you for tonight," I say as we approach the lodge's front steps, my voice slightly breathless despite the slow pace. "The dancing, the food, the company—all of it was wonderful."
"Thank you for coming," he replies, stopping at the base of the steps. In the dim light from the lodge's porch, his eyes look darker, more intense. "I wasn't sure you would."
"Honestly? I almost didn't." The admission slips out before I can censor it. "This isn't exactly my usual scene."
"Small towns and festivals?" There's amusement in his voice, but no judgment.
"Dancing with handsome strangers." I pause, realizing what I just said. Heat floods my cheeks. "Did I mention you're handsome? Because you are. Very handsome."
His laugh is warm and genuine, the sound doing things to my insides that should be illegal. "I think you might have had more beer than you realized."
"I had exactly one beer," I protest, though my cheeks burn with embarrassment. "I'm just not usually this forward."
"I like forward," he says, stepping closer until I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. "And for the record, I think you're beautiful. Since the moment I saw you watching me yesterday."
The memory of that first encounter sends heat spiraling through me, and not just the embarrassed kind. "I'm sorry about that, by the way. The lurking in the bushes thing. Very creepy behavior."
"Very flattering behavior," he corrects, his voice dropping to a register that makes my pulse quicken. "A beautiful woman taking interest in my work? I should be so lucky."
We're standing close now, close enough that I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. Close enough to see the golden flecks in their green depths, to catch his scent of pine and sawdust and something that makes my mouth water.
"Lottie," he says.
I should step back. Should maintain appropriate distance and remember all the reasons this is a terrible idea. Instead, I rise on my toes and press my lips to his.
The kiss starts gentle, tentative, but ignites immediately into something hungrier. His hands frame my face as his mouth moves against mine with surprising skill. When his tongue traces the seam of my lips, I open for him eagerly, a soft moan escaping me as our tongues meet and dance.
I've kissed plenty of men, but none of them have ever made me feel this immediate, overwhelming need. My hands fist in his shirt, pulling him closer as the kiss deepens, my body coming alive in ways I'd forgotten were possible.
When we finally break apart, we're both breathing hard. His forehead rests against mine, his eyes dark with want that mirrors the ache building between my thighs.
"This is moving fast," I whisper, though I make no move to increase the distance between us.
"Too fast?" he asks, his thumb tracing my lower lip in a gesture that sends shivers down my spine.
The smart answer is yes. We've known each other for exactly one day. I'm leaving in five days. He lives in a world completely foreign to mine.
But when I look into his eyes, smart seems highly overrated.
"Not too fast," I breathe, my decision made. "Do you want to come up?"
Heat flares in his gaze. "Are you sure?"
"I'm sure I want you," I reply with an honesty that surprises us both. "Beyond that, I'm not sure of anything."
His smile is slow and devastating. "I can work with that."
The lodge is quiet as we climb the stairs to the second floor, my hand clasped in his larger one. My heart pounds against my ribs—not from nervousness, but from anticipation that feels almost electric.
My room overlooks the mountains, moonlight streaming through the large windows to illuminate the rustic but comfortable space. I'd left a lamp on, casting everything in warm, golden light that makes Jakob's eyes look like forest fire.
His hands cup my face with surprising tenderness as he kisses me again, slow and thorough this time. No urgency, no rushing—just the careful exploration of a man who has all the time in the world and intends to use it.
I melt into him, my hands sliding up his chest to his shoulders, feeling the solid strength beneath his shirt. When he trails kisses along my jaw to the sensitive spot below my ear, I gasp, my knees going weak.
"You're so beautiful," he murmurs against my throat, his voice rough with desire. "I can't wait to find all the places that make you come apart."
His crude words send liquid heat pooling between my thighs. "Jakob," I whisper, not sure what I'm asking for but needing more.
"Tell me what you want, Lottie," he demands, pulling back to look at me. "Tell me exactly what you need."
The command in his voice makes me shiver with want. "I want you to touch me," I breathe. "I want to feel your hands on my skin."
"Where?" he asks, his hands moving to the zipper at the back of my dress. "Here?" The zipper slides down with excruciating slowness. "Or somewhere else?"
"Everywhere," I gasp as my dress pools at my feet, leaving me in nothing but lace underwear. "I want your hands everywhere."
Jakob steps back just enough to look at me, his gaze travels over my exposed skin. "Christ, you're perfect," he breathes. "Look at you—standing there in that sexy lingerie, already wet for me. I can smell how much you want this."
His frank appreciation makes me feel like a goddess despite my vulnerability. "Your turn," I say, reaching for the buttons of his shirt with hands that aren't quite steady.
He lets me undress him slowly, my fingers fumbling slightly with each button. When I push the shirt from his shoulders, I have to catch my breath. His chest is magnificent—broad shoulders tapering to a lean waist, muscles defined, skin bronzed by outdoor labor.
"God, look at you," I murmur, running my hands over his chest. "You're so beautiful, Jakob."
"Men aren't beautiful," he protests, but his breath hitches when I lean forward to press my lips to his collarbone.
"You are," I insist, trailing kisses across his chest, tasting salt and something uniquely him.
He growls, lifting me easily and carrying me to the bed where he lays me down. "I need you spread out where I can worship every inch of you properly."
The mattress dips under his weight as he joins me, his hands and mouth beginning a thorough exploration that has me arching beneath him within moments. He starts at my collarbone, pressing soft kisses and gentle bites that make me gasp and writhe.
"So soft," he murmurs, his hands skimming over my ribs to cup my breasts through my lace bra. "So perfect. I've been thinking about this since I first saw you—wondering what you'd feel like, what sounds you'd make when I touched you."
His thumbs brush over my nipples through the lace, and I cry out at the sensation. "More," I beg, arching into his touch. "Please, Jakob, I need more."
"I know what you need," he says with maddening confidence, unhooking my bra and tossing it aside. "Trust me to give it to you."
When his mouth closes over one nipple, I nearly come off the bed. His tongue circles the sensitive peak while his hand palms my other breast, the dual stimulation sending sparks of pleasure straight to my core.
"You taste so good," he groans against my skin, switching to lavish attention on my other breast. "Sweet and perfect. I could spend hours just worshipping these beautiful tits."
His crude language should shock me, but instead it makes me wetter, my panties already soaked with arousal. "Jakob, please," I gasp, my hands tangling in his hair. "I need—"
"What do you need, sweetheart?" he asks, lifting his head to meet my eyes. "Tell me. I want to hear you say it."
"I need you to touch me," I pant, beyond embarrassment now. "Between my legs. I'm so wet for you, Jakob. Please."
His groan is purely male satisfaction as his hand slides down my body to cup me through my panties. "Fuck, you are wet," he marvels, his fingers stroking over the damp lace. "You're soaking through your panties. Is this all for me, Lottie?"
"Yes," I gasp, lifting my hips to increase the pressure of his touch. "All for you. Only for you."
"Good girl," he praises, hooking his fingers in the waistband of my panties. "Lift up for me. I want to see that pretty pussy."
I comply eagerly, raising my hips so he can slide the scrap of lace down my legs. When I'm completely naked before him, he sits back on his heels to look at me, his gaze so intense I can feel it like a physical touch.
"Beautiful," he whispers, his hands sliding up my inner thighs to spread me open for his inspection. "Look at you, Lottie. Your pussy is already glistening for me. So pink and perfect and ready."
I should be embarrassed by his frank appreciation, but instead I'm more aroused than I've ever been in my life. "Touch me," I plead, my hips lifting in silent invitation. "Please, Jakob, I can't wait anymore."
"Neither can I," he admits, his voice rough with desire. "I need to taste you first. Need to feel you come on my tongue before I fuck you properly."
Before I can process his words, he's settling between my thighs, his broad shoulders forcing my legs wide. The first stroke of his tongue through my folds draws a scream from my throat that I'm thankful the lodge has thick walls.