2. Wyatt
2
WYATT
R ays of bright sunlight warm my face as a gentle breeze cools my sweat-dampened skin. I finished my chores and left dinner to simmer on the stove while I enjoy an easy stroll on a familiar path, plucking ripe blackberries and popping them into my mouth as I go.
My playful companion trots along with me, sniffing at everything we pass, despite having explored this area countless times before. We’ve lived on this mountain for a few years now, and our daily walks are the highlight of my husky’s day. I reach down to ruffle Bear’s fluffy fur, chuckling as he tilts his head and wags his tongue.
Breathing in the crisp forest air, I smile with gratitude for this simple yet fulfilling life. It’s a drastic change from the hustle and bustle of the city, but I don’t miss anything about my old life in Seattle.
The sun begins its descent, and an unexpected sound echoes off the trees. At first, I think it’s a wounded animal, but when I listen closely, I realize it’s a woman crying. My heart sinks as I hurry toward the origin, despite the increasing pain in my knee. Living alone in these isolated woods, I rarely encounter anyone besides the occasional renter of a nearby cabin, out for a hike. Today, however, the tears of this unknown woman have drawn me out of my peaceful retreat.
I come to a clearing and spot her on the ground, her curly, dark hair falling around her in a curtain that shields her face from view. She’s removed her hiking boot and sock, and is staring at her right foot. When I approach, I see her ankle is swollen and bruised. No wonder she’s crying. I bet that hurts like hell.
Bear announces our presence with a bark, and the stranger’s head whips in our direction. Time stands still as my mouth gapes open. She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. A fallen angel, right here on my property, with hazel eyes and flushed cheeks stained with her tears.
Despite my instant attraction, and the fact that it’s wrong to ogle her when I know she’s in pain, I can’t stop my eyes from trailing down her body and taking in her hourglass figure. I want to trace her curves with my mouth and my finger, but I force that thought away and focus on her immediate needs.
“You okay?” I ask, holding up my palms to show her I mean no harm.
I’m well over six feet, tall and broad, with muscles gained from hard labor. I don’t want her to be afraid of me, so I hunch my shoulders, attempting to appear smaller. However, there’s nothing I can do about the scar running down my right cheek, cutting a harsh line through my trimmed beard. I know it looks scary, but I hope she doesn’t flinch away from me. That’s happened far too many times since my accident, and it never stops feeling like a kick in the gut.
“W-who are you?” she asks, her voice thick from crying.
“I’m Wyatt, and this is Bear.” I tilt my head toward the white ball of fluff sitting at my feet. “I live in the cabin just up the hill.”
“Molly,” she offers tentatively.
“Nice to meet you, Molly. What happened to your ankle there?”
Her brow wrinkles, and her gaze shifts to her injured limb as she bites her lip. “I’m staying in a cabin nearby and thought a hike might be nice. I just got here yesterday and wanted to look around. Somehow, I wandered off the main path and got turned around. Then my boot caught on a stupid tree root.” Her cute little chin wobbles as she holds back tears of frustration.
Fuck, I want her.
“It happens, sweetheart. Don’t be embarrassed.” The term of endearment rolls off my tongue as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, and it catches me by surprise. I haven’t called anyone sweetheart in ages. Even when I was engaged, Alyssa preferred that I call her by her name. “You out here alone?”
Her eyes widen and it dawns on me how the question must sound to an injured woman, coming from a man who looks like a beast in a flannel shirt.
“I swear I’d never hurt you. I’m only asking if there’s someone you want me to call.”
Molly’s shoulders relax, but she still eyes me warily. “No, I… There’s no one to call.” She forces the air from her lungs. “Besides, I left my phone back at the cabin.”
I scowl, not liking her response and the potential danger she put herself in. I decide that’s a conversation we can have later, when I scold her on the importance of hiking safety. For now, I need to tend to her injury. “It’ll be dark soon. Let’s get you inside and put some ice on that.”
“I don’t think I can walk.” Her voice sounds small, and she frowns as a protective urge shoots through me. She knits her eyebrows together and glances around. “I’m not sure how to get back to my cabin either.”
“I doubt you’ve hiked too far, which means you must be staying at the Thompsons’ place. It’s about two miles from here.” I watch as her shoulders slump with defeat before adding, “I’m just up the hill, less than a quarter of a mile away. I’ll carry you back to my place.”
Her curls bounce when she shakes her head. “Oh, no. I can’t let you do that.”
“I don’t think you have a choice, honey. That ankle is swelling up pretty good. Not a chance you can make it back to your cabin.”
Again, she glances at her foot and knows I’m right.
“Come home with me where I can take care of you. Then I promise you can be on your way.”
Molly worries her plump lower lip between her teeth. “Are you sure? I might be too heavy to carry that far.”
I shoot her an offended look before flexing my bicep. “Woman, do you see these muscles? They ain’t just for show,” I tease her with a wink, earning myself a relaxed smile. Then I move toward her, not waiting for a response.
Crouching down, I lift her curvy, petite frame into my arms, and she clings to me with her hands laced behind my neck. I can feel her body heat radiating against mine, igniting a flame of desire within me. As I carry her, she lets out a tiny moan of discomfort, deepening my need to shield and protect this gorgeous creature.
Molly peers up at me with a watery smile. “Um… Thanks for rescuing me.”
Being this close, I see the different shades of green and gold in her mesmerizing eyes. I’d get lost in them forever if she’d let me.
But that’s crazy. I just met this woman and don’t know a damn thing about her. So, I look away, surveying our surroundings as I tote her back to my cabin.
“It’s beautiful up here,” Molly admits, marveling at the view. “Do you live here year-round?”
I nod, focusing on a log as I carefully step over it. For the brief moment that all of my weight is on my right leg, my knee buckles and there’s a sharp pain. I grit my teeth, tightening my grip on her, and keep going.
“Everything’s so quiet. Last night was the best sleep I’ve had in years. The combination of fresh mountain air and the lack of noise was just what I needed.”
She continues to chat and I respond with short answers, bearing my pain in silence. I don’t want her to think I’m weak because of a bum leg, not that it should matter what a stranger thinks of me. Yet, for some reason, I want to make a good impression on her. I’d chalk it up to being damn near celibate for three years, but I know that isn’t the case. Molly sparks something intense inside me, something I’ve never felt before, and I want to explore it.
I learn she hasn’t always been a city girl. She grew up in the country in Montana. Wanting to hear more of her soothing voice, I prod, “How’d you end up in Seattle, then?”
“My parents died in a car accident when I was a teenager, so I moved in with my grandmother. She lives in Seattle.” There’s a sadness in her tone that causes an ache in my chest. She doesn’t dwell on it, though, and before long, Molly’s chatting away again, shifting the subject to a lighter one.
Within a matter of minutes, I learn this beauty is warm and kind, the type of person who makes friends easily. I’m surprised by how open she’s being with me, since most people haven’t been like that after my accident. Not only is my size and physique intimidating, but my scar and limp make some uncomfortable. Those I thought cared about me the most—particularly my ex-fiancée—regarded me as some kind of freak show, thinking I couldn’t hear their hushed snickers and cruel jokes.
I don’t like to think about that time in my life, so I focus on Molly’s words as she tells me how grateful she is that I found her. I glance at her face, so close to mine, and see nothing but sincere appreciation in her eyes.
When was the last time anyone looked at me like this?
As my home comes into view, I feel a twinge of disappointment. Part of me wishes I walked slower. Her supple body feels too good in my arms and I’m not ready to let go of her yet.
“Oh, wow. This is really nice!” Molly exclaims, as she looks over my home, and pride fills my chest.
An architect friend of mine, one of the few people I’ve kept in contact with over the years, designed the place for me. It’s more modern than it is rustic, but still has a large wraparound porch with a swing off to the side. The interior is an open concept with a generous kitchen and living room area filled with oversized, comfortable furniture. The single bedroom is spacious with a custom-made bed to fit my height and sliding glass doors that lead to a private deck with a hell of a scenic view.
I carry Molly inside, setting her down onto the sectional couch and propping her foot on the upholstered ottoman. She winces, then shifts against the cushions to make herself more comfortable.
I stride into the kitchen to retrieve an ice pack from the freezer, along with an over-the-counter pain reliever and a bottle of water. When I return to the living room, she’s flexing her toes and gingerly moving her foot from side to side.
“It hurts, but I don’t think it’s broken.”
I pass her the medicine and the water. “I’d say it’s just a bad sprain. Still, let’s keep it elevated and iced. I’ll grab a compression wrap while you rest.”
I head to the bathroom and rummage around in my first aid kit. After I find what I’m looking for, I hurry back to Molly, who’s watching me with curious eyes.
“I promise I’ll be gentle.” I perch my hefty frame on the coffee table before setting her bare foot on my leg. Her thick thighs separate, and a sudden need to bury my face between them washes over me. I clench my jaw and force myself to think about anything besides her hot little pussy hidden behind a layer of dark-washed denim.
As I wrap her ankle, I glance at her and the trust I see reflected in her gaze floors me. Despite not knowing anything about me, this woman trusts me to care for her. Is it just her nature or does she see something in me that makes her feel safe? I pray it’s the latter, because I’m drawn to her in a way I can’t explain.
I finish her bandage, then prop her foot on a throw pillow. “Are you hungry?”
Before Molly can answer, a loud growl comes from her stomach and a pretty blush covers her cheeks.
“I’ll take that as a yes .” I chuckle and rise from my seat.
“Something smells delicious. What is that?” Her long, dark eyelashes frame her green eyes as she looks at me while I tower over her. My mind fills with dirty thoughts, and I imagine this same innocent expression on her face while she holds my long, girthy cock in her small hands and wraps her cherry-red lips around it.
Fuck .
I feel myself growing hard and turn away before she can see the bulge in my jeans. I retreat to the kitchen, because I don’t want her to think I’m some lewd pervert. But damn, she’s sexy and I can’t take my eyes off her.
I stir the stew I left simmering in the stove, filling the air with its savory scent, before I set up a cozy dinner for two on the coffee table. Our conversation flows easily as we eat, and I can’t deny the chemistry between us. Just as things heat up, though, thoughts of Alyssa and her cruel words about my scar cool my desire.
She mentioned it when she broke things off with me, saying that she couldn’t be seen with a man who was disfigured. Sometimes, I forget my scar is even there, which is easy to do when I’m alone. Now, however, I wonder what Molly thinks of it. It’s not pretty to look at, but it doesn’t make me a hideous monster either.
If she sees me that way, she doesn’t act like it, but I don’t want to make any assumptions. And I don’t want her to see how attracted I am to her, thinking she owes me something for rescuing her.
No, I’ll just take care of her tonight, then take her back to her cabin and let her go. I’ll prove to her there are decent men in the world and that, in spite of my appearance, I happen to be one of them.
When we finish eating, I take our dishes to the sink, leaving them to deal with later. Turning back toward the living room, I let out a frustrated growl at the sight of Molly attempting to stand on her own. She’s already balanced on her good leg and about to lower her injured foot to the floor.
“What are you doing?” I snap, storming toward her.
Molly’s eyes widen, but she doesn’t look scared. The lack of fear dulls some of my irritation, but a frown still graces my features as she steadies herself with a hand on the armrest of the couch. Her wrapped foot hovers inches above the ground, but I don’t wait for her to speak before sweeping her into my arms and depositing her back on the couch.
“Wyatt, what are you doing?”
“That’s my question for you.” I busy myself by repositioning her foot on the pillows. “Why are you trying to stand?”
She rolls her eyes but can’t hide the smile tugging at her lips. “I just wanted to test it, see if I can handle walking.”
I replace the ice pack on her ankle, and she lets out a long sigh of relief.
“It’s getting late. I should get back to my cabin soon.”
I scoff. “Absolutely not.”
“Y-y-you… you’re kidnapping me! I knew it!”
My stomach twists, and the blood drains from my face. “What? No! Of course not! That’s not what I’m saying!” I can feel my panic rising to the surface until a mischievous grin spreads across her face.
“I know. I was just messing with you.”
I narrow my gaze at her while my palm itches to spank her juicy ass.
“You might be bigger than I am, but I’m a lot tougher than people think. If you did decide to kidnap me, I’d find a way to kick your ass.”
I smirk as I take a seat beside her. “I wouldn’t abduct you unless you wanted me to.” I shoot her a wink, and she raises a single eyebrow. “Just stay with me tonight, okay? You need to rest your ankle, and you won’t be able to do that if you’re alone.”
“Fine,” she huffs, then presses on the couch cushions beside her and shrugs. “Seems comfortable enough. I’ll take it.”
“You’re not sleeping on the couch, Molly. I’ll stay out here, and you’ll sleep in my bed.”
“That’s ridiculous?—”
“You might be tough, sweetheart, but there’s no point in fighting me on this,” I warn. I can tell that she wants to argue, so I scoop her up again, drawing a squeak from her lips as her arms go around my neck.
“Are you just going to haul me around wherever you want all evening?”
“Yep. I kinda like it.” I carry her to my bedroom, glad that I changed the sheets this morning.
“You’re too tall for that couch, Wyatt.” Her words express guilt, but her body relaxes onto the pillowy mattress.
“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry your pretty little head about me.” I dig through my dresser and pull out a simple white t-shirt for her to sleep in.
She takes it from my hand and I resist the urge to bend down and press a kiss to her sweet lips.
“The bathroom’s over there. I’ll set out a spare toothbrush for you. Need some help getting ready for bed?” I’m doing everything I can to be a gentleman, but the thought of her wearing my clothes and sleeping in my bed is making my cock ache.
At the mention of me assisting her, that pretty blush returns. “Um… if you can help me to the bathroom, I can manage everything else.”
I give her a curt nod, praying she doesn’t see how hard my dick is in my jeans.
After Molly’s ready for bed, I set her clothes on the corner of my dresser to be tossed into the washer while she rests. I tuck her beneath the cool sheets and place a bottle of water on the nightstand.
“I’ll leave the door open in case you need me. Do not get up by yourself, Molly. I mean it.” I point a finger in her direction, but she just giggles.
“I won’t… Daddy.” She may be teasing, but she has no idea what that word does to my cock. It’s a dangerous game she’s playing.
“Get some rest. I’ll be right down the hall.” I leave the room, awkwardly walking with a steel pipe between my legs. It’s going to be a restless night—knowing I have a goddess almost naked and sleeping all alone in my bed—and there ain’t a damn thing I can do about it.