Chapter 10
SEVEN
A s morning becomes afternoon and the weight of carrying two packs starts to wear on me, I focus on the tension in my shoulders and the ache in my back. I focus on the way my damp hiking pants chafe at the waist and the repulsive feel of tacky boxer briefs clinging to my balls—anything to keep my mind off dry humping Binx in the mud.
But fuck…even physically miserable and hating myself for crossing that line, I can’t completely banish the memory. I can still feel the heat of her lips on mine, and every time I glance back to make sure she’s still behind me on the deer trail, meeting her gaze for a split second is enough to make me ache.
I want to hold her again, kiss her again. I want to forget all the reasons we can’t be together and lose myself in her beautiful body. I want to wrap myself in the sweet strength of this incredible woman and let her convince me that I’m the man for her.
Even though I know that’s not true.
I might be what she wants right now, but that wouldn’t last, and I’m sure as hell not what she needs.
I prove that by being a grouchy asshole when she asks to stop a little too soon after our last water break, only relenting when she asks if I would prefer that she pee her pants as we walk.
“Not particularly,” I say, swaying to a stop with a sigh.
“Then, I’m allowed to take a bathroom break?”
“Knock yourself out.” I shift to lean my back against the thick trunk of a tree behind me, letting it take some of the weight off my shoulders. In return, it sends a sprinkle of raindrops down on my head. It stopped raining several hours ago, but the fall leaves are holding on to enough moisture that we’ll be dribbled on as long as we’re in the woods today.
And we’re going to be in the woods for at least a couple more hours. Between Binx’s injury and me being weighed down by two packs, we’ll be lucky to make it to my camp before nightfall, and that’s if nothing else goes wrong.
Binx pauses on her way off the deer path, arching a brow my way. “Don’t you want to take the packs off for a few minutes? Take a rest?”
I shake my head and fold my arms over my chest. “I don’t want to waste time getting them back on. We have to keep moving.”
“I know, I know,” she says, with a subtle roll of her eyes. “I’ll pee as quickly as I can, I promise.”
“Good,” I grunt, hating myself for being an asshole, but a little proud of it, too. I should show her this side of myself more often. If she saw what a grumpy fucker I can be, she would realize I’m more trouble than I’m worth.
Muttering something beneath her breath that I can’t quite make out, she disappears behind a fallen log not far from the trail. I cast my gaze toward the ridgeline, giving her privacy. After her tumble down the mountain, we moved farther away from the edge of the incline, but not too far, since it’s the easiest way to be sure we’re staying on the right track. The ridge tracks due east, where it hooks up with the ridge on my own property.
I’m pretty sure we passed the property line for my camp about a mile back, but there’s a chance we’re still a little farther out.
I haven’t been to this side of the camp often—I’ve been too busy working on the infrastructure on the other side—but I remember thinking it would be a good place to teach bouldering classes down the road. The rocks around here aren’t tall enough for proper climbing, but there’s a lot of fun to be had with smaller rock formations, a bag of chalk, and some crash pads.
Though nothing about that sounds like fun right now.
My shoulders are on fire. I work out like a beast, but even my impressive shoulder press hasn’t prepared me for the awkward way I’m carrying this weight.
I’m considering strapping one bag to my front, while keeping the other on my back—even though it will be hard to see over the top of the tall pack—when Binx reappears.
She’s wincing and walking a bit more gingerly than before, but when I ask her about it, she snaps, “I’m fine, Seven. I’m not made of glass, I promise. And I can carry my pack now. My hip isn’t sore at all anymore.”
I don’t dignify that with an answer. I just turn and continue moving east along the faint deer trail, slowing my pace slightly to accommodate for her ginger gait, which only gets worse as the miles pass. By the time we’ve reached a part of the land I definitely recognize from my four-wheeler treks with Sprout, her brow is locked in a furrow of pain.
“I have ibuprofen in my bag,” I offer.
“I’m fine,” she says in a strained voice, wincing again as she steps over a rock in the path.
“You look fine,” I say dryly. “What with all the wincing and limping.”
She glares my way. “Okay, Sarcasm Man, I’m not fine, but it’s nothing an ibuprofen is going to help.”
I return her scowl. “Then what is it?”
She averts her gaze, muttering, “Nothing. It’s fine. I’ll be fine. We’re almost there.”
“We’re not,” I correct her, not in the business of peddling pretty lies. “We have at least two miles left, maybe three.”
“That’s fine,” she insists. “I can make it two miles. I have to make it. Like you said, you can’t carry me.”
“Is it your hip? Are you?—”
She sighs. “No, Seven, it isn’t my hip.”
“Then what?—”
“It’s chafing, okay?” she cuts in, with a mixture of annoyance and what sounds like embarrassment, though I can’t say for sure. I’ve never heard Binx embarrassed.
“Chafing? Where?”
She winces again. “My inner thighs. These pants are fine when they’re dry, but when they’re soaking wet…not so much.”
“Why didn’t you say something before?” I ask, grinding to a halt. “I have Band-Aids in my pack.”
“Yeah, so do I,” she says, “but I didn’t want to slow us down. Your head almost exploded when I asked to stop to pee.”
“It didn’t almost explode. I was just worried about losing the light before we made it to camp.” I pop the clasp on the straps holding both packs around my waist, letting them slide to the ground. “But chafing is serious. It could get infected or bad enough that you won’t be able to get back on the trail tomorrow.”
“God forbid,” she mutters, but she obediently shuffles over to me when I point to the ground beside the pack. “You know, we could just wait it out at the camp. If they don’t hear from us for a few days, they’ll come looking. They might even come sooner. Wendy Ann is my most logical sibling. Sooner or later, she’s going to realize she did a dumb, illogical thing and want to make it right.”
“I’m not going to hold my breath,” I say, locating my first aid kit and setting it on top of Binx’s closed pack. I pop it open, sifting through the various sized bandages as I add as nonchalantly as possible, “Drop your drawers. Let’s see what we’re dealing with.”
“I can do it myself,” she says, holding out her hand. “In private.”
“I’m sure you can, but it’ll be easier to get the wounds cleaned and the bandages in the right position with help. We need to get this right the first time. I only have enough supplies to last for a few days.”
Her head falls back with a sigh, but she grumbles a surly, “Fine,” and reaches for the button on her pants. “But you can’t judge my disgusting underwear. I swear, they were clean before I fell down a hill and rolled around in the mud.”
“Not something I’m worried about right now,” I say, keeping my expression impassive as she drags her zipper down and gingerly guides her pants around her knees.
I will not let her see that the sight of her in underwear—even modest underwear grimy with mud stains—does things to me. She’s just so beautiful, so perfect, so…Binx.
She’s also hurt…
I curse beneath my breath, my awareness of everything but her pain fading as I see the raw, savaged flesh on her inner thighs.
“It’s not that bad,” she says in a tight voice, her breath hissing out as I gently grip the skin beneath the wound on her left side. “Don’t touch it.”
“I’m not touching it,” I murmur. “I’m just trying to see how far back it goes.”
“Far,” she says, “it goes back far. I said, don’t touch it.”
“I’m not, baby, I promise,” I say, the word out of my mouth before I can think better of it. I glance up quickly, hoping maybe Binx didn’t notice, but her expression makes it clear I didn’t get so lucky.
She looks…stricken, like my words are salt in her wound.
“I’m sorry,” I say, feeling like an absolute piece of shit. I promised myself after the idiotic way I behaved in the mud that I’d get control of myself. “Bad habit. The only person I’m used to comforting when they’re hurt is Sprout and…she’s my baby.”
“She is,” Binx agrees with a sad little nod that does nothing to banish the shame worming through my chest. “It’s fine. I know you don’t mean it.”
But I do mean it. I mean it with everything in me. But at least I have the self-control not to say that part out loud.
“This is bad, Binx,” I say instead, chewing on my bottom lip for a second. “We need to get it clean, but I’m hesitant to use the alcohol swab. I think we’d be better off with plain old soap and warm water for this.”
“But we can’t get to soap and warm water, right?” she asks.
“There’s soap at the cabin, but no warm water. I haven’t had the chance to replace the old hot water heater, and we’re still another hour or so away. I’d prefer to get this clean now, before I bandage it.”
She nods. “Yeah, me, too. I don’t want any infectious critters trapped under my bandage. Just give me the alcohol swab, I can clean it.”
I arch a dubious brow. “Are you sure? It always hurts more to hurt yourself. I had to stich up a gash in my leg one time, when I took a fall off a cliff and was too far from civilization to get to the ER in time. It was fucking miserable.”
She winces. “Ow. That sounds horrific. Did you cry?”
“Yeah,” I say. “And I almost passed out. Twice.”
“Shit.” She wrinkles her nose. “I mean, this obviously isn’t as bad as a wound like that, but?—”
“It’s pretty bad,” I cut in, exhaling as I glance down at the twin red wounds on either side of her thighs. They’re oozing a bit of blood and look bruised in the middle. “I’m no doctor, but they look like third-or-fourth-degree abrasions. I can’t believe you kept walking all this time without stopping me sooner.” Another wave of shame curdles my stomach. “I’m sorry I made you feel like you couldn’t ask for a break.”
“No, it isn’t your fault,” she says, her tone softer than it’s been in hours. “It’s mine. I felt stupid. I know these pants are a little too tight and hold water for way too long, but I wore them anyway. I thought it would be okay, since the rain was supposed to pass, and I was going to be in a van all morning. Then, once I realized how bad it was, I was kind of afraid to look. I mean, it’s not like I can stop walking. We have to get to the cabin. The only thing worse than sleeping in a cabin with no way to call for help is sleeping out in the middle of the woods with no way to call for help.”
I give her leg a gentle squeeze, right below the knee. “Pride’s a bitch.”
Her lips twitch up. “Yeah, it is.”
“I know, I’ve been there,” I say. “But we’ll get this bandaged up and you can borrow something to wear. I brought an extra pair of pants. I usually don’t for climbing trips, but since I ripped the ass out of a pair on our last climbing trip, I figured, I should have a backup.”
Her smile widens. “I’ll never forget those black pants giving way to rainbow unicorn boxer briefs.”
“They were a?—”
“Gift from Sprout,” she finishes for me with a soft laugh. “I know, I know. But it was still funny. It’s sweet that you actually wear them. Most dads wouldn’t.”
“I’m not most dads,” I say, letting the words serve as a reminder of the kind of man I want to be—the kind who doesn’t get his daughter’s hopes up about a relationship that’s never going to happen.
And the type who doesn’t ground her for the next decade for pulling a stunt like this. After all, as long as Binx and I both get out of here in one piece, without any irreversible mistakes being made, it’ll all be okay.
Though, speaking of irreversible mistakes…
“These might scar,” I tell her as I clean my hands as best I can with one alcohol wipe. “Hopefully they’ll stop bleeding and scab over once the irritation stops, but the wounds are deep.”
“I think it will be okay,” she says, a mixture of hope and concern in her voice. “I chafed pretty badly with these pants once before, and it healed faster than I could have imagined.” She sucks in a breath and sets her jaw. “I’m going to be fine. And I’m ready. Just…do it. Fast. Like a shot.”
“All right,” I say, bracing myself to hurt her. Even knowing I’m helping with the hurt, it’s not going to be easy. “Here we go.”
I dab the wipe over the wound on her right thigh, the worse of the two. Her muscles go rigid beneath my other hand, but she doesn’t make a sound aside from a sharp hiss of breath. I keep going, cleaning the wound thoroughly.
By the time I’m done, she’s trembling all over.
“Okay?” I ask.
“Just hurry,” she says in a breathy voice. “It’s bad, but it’ll be over soon.”
“It will be,” I promise, pulling out another clean wipe and giving her other wound the same treatment, “There, all done, the worst part is over. We just need to give the skin around them a second to dry before I put on the bandages.” I lift my gaze. “How you holding up?”
She looks down, her pale features weary. “Okay.” She slides her tongue across her bottom lip. “Are you intimidated?”
“By what?”
“By my badass pain tolerance.”
I smile. “Oh, yeah. For sure. Totally intimidated, but not surprised. You’re way more badass than I am.”
“Thanks,” she says, her lips hooking up on one side. “Pretty lies make a girl feel good while she’s waiting to pull up her pants. The petting is nice, too.”
I’m about to ask what she means by that, then realize I’ve been absentmindedly stroking her thighs beneath her wounds, running my thumbs up and down her velvety soft skin.
I pull my hands away with a self-conscious laugh. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be,” she murmurs. “It was nice. Your touch is…nice.”
I hold her gaze and for a moment as I imagine stripping her panties down to her ankles and showing her how nice I can be. I want my mouth between her legs, kissing her in the most intimate way a man can kiss a woman. I want to devour her, worship her, make her tremble for reasons that have nothing to do with pain.
Then, I want to take her from behind, slow and careful, so as not to cause her anything but pleasure.
And I swear, Binx can read my mind. She bites her bottom lip and gives a slight nod, as if giving me permission to ravage her right here in the middle of the woods.
But I don’t.
I carefully apply the bandages, fetch my spare pants from my bag, and turn my back as she puts them on. Then, I swing both bags back onto my back again and set off at a slower pace, willing myself to take it easy, even though I’m desperate to get to the bathroom at the cabin.
A cold shower is exactly what the doctor ordered to cool things off between us.
Or, worst-case scenario, I can jerk off in the shower, hopefully taking the edge off enough that we can make it through a night in close quarters without doing anything we’ll regret.
Yeah, good luck with that, buddy, my dick says a mile later, from where he’s still rock hard and aching behind my fly.
This isn’t going to be easy, but important things rarely are.
It’s important that I never cross the line with Binx again. That’s the right thing to do, and I’m going to keep fighting for the right, even if a part of me is certain it’s a battle I’m doomed to lose.