Chapter 7 - Ruby
The lemon biscuit melts on my tongue, the perfect balance of sweet and tart. I can't help but smile as I watch Cole shift uncomfortably in his chair. The intimidating mountain man bakes. It's such an unexpected detail, like finding a delicate wildflower growing from solid rock.
"These are seriously good," I say, taking another bite. "You could sell these."
He grunts, seemingly embarrassed by the praise. "Just something to pass the time."
His confession about his past still weighs on me. The horror of what he experienced in Afghanistan, the incident with his girlfriend afterward. I can see why he believes himself dangerous, but all I see is a man punishing himself for having human responses to inhuman situations.
"So," he says after a moment of silence, "what are you planning to do now? Since you lost your job?"
The question catches me off guard. It's surprisingly... normal. Like something you'd ask at a dinner party, not while stranded in a snowstorm with a self-exiled former Special Forces soldier.
"I have no idea," I admit with a small laugh. "I'm going to finish this goddamn hike first, although maybe with better weather forecasting next time. After that?" I shrug. "Maybe it's time to focus on my dream."
"Which is?" His eyes are intent on my face, genuinely curious.
"Opening my own bakery." I feel a flush of embarrassment saying it out loud. It sounds so mundane compared to his life experiences. "Maybe right here in Pine Haven, actually. I looked it up before I came. It's a growing tourist spot for hikers and skiers, but it only has one dedicated bakery."
His eyebrows lift slightly. "A bakery? I didn’t expect that."
"Why? Because marketing executives don't bake?" I tease.
"Something like that." There's a hint of a smile beneath his beard.
I trace the rim of my mug with my finger, debating how much to share. Something about his earlier confession makes me want to offer a piece of myself in return.
"I was bullied pretty badly when I was younger," I say, not meeting his eyes.
"For my weight, mostly. Kids can be cruel.
Baking became my escape. Something I could control, something I was good at.
" I look up at him. "Even when everything else felt like shit, I could make something beautiful and delicious that made people happy. "
His expression softens almost imperceptibly. "Makes sense."
"I'd love to cook for you sometime," I say, the words spilling out before I can stop them. "I make a lemon cheesecake that would blow your mind."
Something flashes in his eyes. Interest, definitely, but then a swift shuttering, like blinds being drawn. "Maybe one day," he says, his tone neutral again.
It's maddening, this push-and-pull. One moment he's open, almost warm, the next he's retreating behind his walls. I can't help but feel there's more happening beneath the surface than he's letting on.
And I can't help but notice the way his jeans strain across his lap when our eyes meet.
The evidence of his attraction is right there, unmistakable.
God, is he really that big, or is it just the way he's sitting?
The thought sends heat pooling between my legs, and I shift on the couch, trying to ease the building pressure.
I take another sip of cocoa, trying to calm my racing thoughts. Suddenly, a deafening crack of thunder shakes the cabin, making me jump in fright. Hot chocolate sloshes over the rim of my mug, splashing down the front of my borrowed t-shirt.
"Shit!" I gasp, setting the mug down quickly as the hot liquid seeps through the thin fabric, clinging it to my chest.
"It's fine," Cole says, his voice tight.
His knuckles are white where he grips the arms of his chair, and his eyes are fixed on the wet fabric now molded to my breasts. The bulge in his jeans visibly throbs, and a shiver runs down my spine at the realization of how much he wants me.
"I'm so sorry about your shirt," I stammer, noticing how my nipples have hardened, visible through the damp cotton.
"You should shower," he says, his voice rough and unsteady. "Get cleaned up."
I nod, grateful for the excuse to escape the sudden tension. "Right. Good idea."
I make my way to the bathroom as quickly as my injured ankle will allow, closing the door behind me with shaking hands.
Once inside, I strip off the cocoa-soaked shirt and my leggings, catching sight of myself in the small mirror above the sink.
My cheeks are flushed, my eyes bright, my dark hair wild around my face.
I look... aroused. There's no other word for it. And when I slip off my underwear, the evidence is undeniable. I'm so wet my thighs are slick with it.
"Jesus," I whisper to myself, turning on the shower to let it warm up.
What is it about him that affects me this way? Is it just the isolation, the intensity of our situation? Or is it something more, something about the man himself, with his haunted eyes and gentle hands?
I step under the hot spray, sighing as it cascades over my body. The pressure between my legs is almost unbearable now, an insistent throbbing that demands attention. Before I can think better of it, my hand slips between my thighs, finding the swollen bud of my clit.
"Fuck," I breathe as I circle it slowly with my finger. I shouldn't be doing this. Not here, not with him just outside the door. But I can't help myself. I need some relief from this constant ache.
I lean against the tile wall, one hand bracing myself while the other works between my legs. In my mind, it's Cole's thick fingers touching me, Cole's beard rough against my inner thighs as he tastes me. The fantasy is so vivid I have to bite my lip to keep from moaning aloud.
It would be so easy to finish myself off right here, to come quietly under the shower spray. But something stops me. Some part of me doesn't want release this way—alone, hiding. Not when the real object of my desire is just beyond that door.
Reluctantly, I stop myself and focus on actually washing. I scrub away the sticky residue of cocoa and rinse my hair, trying to cool my overheated body and racing thoughts.
It's only when I turn off the water and reach for a towel that I realize my mistake. In my haste to escape the awkwardness, I didn't grab a clean shirt to change into.
"Shit," I mutter, wrapping the towel around my body. It's large enough to cover me decently, falling to mid-thigh, but still. I'll have to ask Cole for another shirt.
I take a deep breath and open the bathroom door, stepping out in a cloud of steam. Cole is standing right there, just outside the door, a folded t-shirt in his hand. His eyes widen as he takes in my towel-clad form, his pupils dilating until the hazel is just a thin ring around black.
"I realized you forgot a shirt," he says, his voice a strained rumble.
His fists are clenching and unclenching at his sides, as if he's physically restraining himself.
"Are you okay?" I ask, though it's obvious he's anything but.
"Here." He extends his arm, offering the shirt without stepping closer. I notice his hand is shaking slightly.
And suddenly, I'm at a crossroads. I could take the shirt, retreat to the bathroom, maintain the distance we've established. The safe option. The sensible choice.
Or...
Something changes inside me, a certainty crystallizing where there was only confusion before.
Maybe it's his obvious desire for me, maybe it's the aftermath of his raw confession, or maybe it's just that I'm tired of playing it safe.
Of living a life based on others' expectations. Of never taking what I want.
And right now, I want him. All of him.
Before I can second-guess myself, I let the towel drop to the floor.
The cool air hits my damp skin, raising goosebumps across my naked body. I stand before him completely exposed. My full breasts, my belly rolls, the curve of my hips, the dark triangle between my thighs. I've never been so vulnerable, so utterly bare before another person.
Cole's mouth falls open, his eyes darkening as they rake over me. "What are you doing?" he rasps.
My heart is pounding so hard I'm sure he can hear it, but I don't falter.
"I'm doing something for myself," I say, my voice steadier than I feel. "For once in my life, I'm taking control. And right now, I want you, Cole."
His jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek.
"You don't know what you're asking for," he warns, his voice dropping to a dangerous register.
"I'm going to count to three. You can pick up that towel and take those words back before then.
But after three..." He takes a step closer, his eyes burning into mine.
"After three, I'm going to take you. Claim you. And I won't be gentle about it."
A thrill of fear mixed with anticipation races through me. "I'm sure," I whisper.
"One," he counts, his eyes never leaving mine.
I don't move.
"Two." He's close enough now that I can feel the heat radiating from his body.
Still, I stand my ground.
"Three."
For a heartbeat, nothing happens. I wonder if I've made a terrible mistake, if he's going to back away, reject me.
Then his hands are in my hair, his mouth crashing down on mine with hunger.
It's not a gentle first kiss. It's devouring, all consuming, his beard rough against my skin, his tongue demanding entrance to my mouth.
One of his hands moves to grip my ass, squeezing the flesh there like he already owns it.
Fuck. No one has ever grabbed me like this before. No one's warm breath has ever brushed against my face as they kissed me senseless. I can feel his erection pressing against my belly through his jeans, throbbing with need.
He breaks the kiss, both of us gasping for air. His hands move to my hips, guiding me backward into the living room. With a sudden movement, he tosses me onto the couch, my naked body bouncing slightly on impact. Then he's kneeling before me, his eyes wild as he wrestles with his belt buckle.
His hands grip my inner thighs, and instinctively I spread them for him, opening myself to his gaze. I've never been this exposed. Never been looked at with such raw hunger.
"Can I?" I realize he's just noticed I'm completely naked. No underwear to remove.
"I'm...I've never done this before," I admit with a whisper. "I'm nervous about it."
He freezes, clearly caught off guard by my confession. "You're a virgin?" he asks, his voice strained.
I nod, suddenly afraid he'll stop.
"We can stop right here," he says, though I can see how much it costs him to offer. "I'll find a way to control myself, but—"
"Don't stop," I interrupt, grabbing his muscular arm. "Please. I want this. I want you."
To show him I mean it, I spread my legs wider, fully revealing my already wet pussy to his gaze. "Please touch me," I whisper.
His mouth falls open slightly, his grip on my thighs tightening. Then, without warning, he buries his face between my legs, his tongue finding my slick folds.
"Oh god!" I cry out as he licks me with long, firm strokes. His beard tickles my inner thighs as his tongue explores every inch of me, circling my clit before dipping lower to tease my entrance. I arch my back, desperate for something to hold onto as pleasure floods my system.
Just when I think it can't get more intense, I feel his finger pressing into me, gently at first, then deeper. My eyes roll back as he adds a second finger, stretching me in a way that walks the perfect line between pleasure and pain.
He continues fingering me while moving up to kiss my neck, his beard scraping deliciously against my sensitive skin. His fingers curl inside me, finding a spot that makes me dizzy.
"Cole," I gasp, unable to form more coherent words as he works me toward an inevitable climax. "I can't—I'm going to—"
"Let go," he growls against my neck. "Come for me, Ruby."
His fingers move faster, his thumb finding my clit, and suddenly I'm coming undone. My pussy clenches around his fingers as waves of pleasure crash over me, leaving me trembling and gasping beneath him.
When I finally open my eyes, he's looking down at me with an expression of awe and hunger. He slowly pulls out his fingers, maintaining eye contact as he brings them to his mouth and sucks them clean, groaning at the taste of me.
"Fucking delicious," he murmurs.
Then he stands, unbuckling his belt and pushing down his jeans and briefs. His cock springs free, thick and long, the head purple and glistening with precum. It's bigger than I imagined, and for a moment I wonder if it will even fit inside me.
He must see the flash of anxiety on my face because he kneels between my legs again, his expression softening slightly. "We'll go slow," he promises, his voice a rough caress. "Tell me if it's too much."
I nod, spreading my legs wider in invitation. "I'm ready."