Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Stormi
Dash Sullivan is many things: rugged, strong, brave, grumpy, even thoughtful when he wants to be.
But a photographer, he is not.
The two measly pictures he took of me are blurry, and my eyes are shut in one of them.
Before I could convince him to take new ones, he practically ran away to get firewood.
As though the thought suddenly popped in his head after two hours of me shivering in my coat. Or maybe it was me he wanted to avoid.
He wouldn’t be the first guy to act that way around me.
I shiver again, reminded how chilly the tower is.
I was beginning to think that the stove was broken.
I was prepared to tough it out for the couple of hours I have left on this tour, but I was secretly hoping he’d build a fire.
Or that he’d find other ways to keep me warm, which might be the subconscious reason I chose to sit on his bed when there were two perfectly good folding chairs at my disposal.
While Dash busies himself in the lower level room of the tower gathering firewood, I notice the sun starting to disappear behind the clouds again.
Judging by the thick, dark nature of them, I suspect this will be the last of the sunlight during my visit.
If I want to get the perfect profile picture for the reinvention of Stormi Winters, I’ll have to do it myself.
Though the bridal party has sworn off social media until we board the plane home in order to keep our whereabouts a secret, I want this very important picture ready the minute I can post it.
But I’m terrible at selfies.
Which is why I snap dozens, all at different angles, desperate to capture the mountains with that ray of sunshine in just the right lighting. But none of them are quite right.
I lean back against the railing and finally see the perfect photo come into frame.
Blaze pops to all fours, bumping into my knee just as I snap the photo. He starts that low growl again as the phone flies out of my hand and lands on the ground a good twenty feet below.
“Oh no!” I cry, rushing down the stairs to retrieve the phone I desperately hope is not destroyed beyond repair.
At the bottom of the staircase, I plow run right into Dash with his arms full of firewood.
“My phone—”
“Stormi, stop!” he shouts at the same time.
“I have to see if my phone—”
“Blaze, stay,” he orders his dog, ignorning me. His voice is calm but firm. I seem to register the low growl from Blaze up on the balcony for the first time since my phone went flying over the side of the railing.
“Another squirrel?”
“No.” Dash tosses the wood, pushing me behind him. He’s on high alert, and it’s starting to freak me out.
“Dash, what’s going on?”
“Go up the stairs, slowly. Take Blaze and get inside.”
“Dash—”
I’ve seen grizzly bears at the zoo, and once in a bear habitat while on a family road trip as a kid, when my parents were still married. But I’ve never seen one as big as the bear rounding the corner of the lookout tower.
He’s giant.
Oh fuck.
“Get out of here!” Dash yells at the bear, stomping forward.
He continues shouting at who I am most certain is Brutus.
What the fuck is Dash doing? He’s built like a brick house, but Brutus is built like a fucking fortified castle.
He’s no match for the massive bear. “You can’t have my fucking cupcakes,” he continues, shouting as though the bear had actually stolen them.
“This is about cupcakes?”
Dash snaps his head back at me the same moment Brutus seems to notice me for the first time.
Shit.
“Do what I told you,” Dash growls at me.
Slowly, I start to walk up the stairs backward, my backside glued to the tower so I can keep an eye on Brutus.
What the fuck is Dash doing? What the fuck will I do if Brutus eats Dash?
I’m suddenly regretting not being bold enough to kiss the grumpy mountain man when I had the chance. If he survives this attack—
Blaze lets out a sharp series of barks, and I barely catch him by the collar before he barrels down the stairs.
“No, Blaze,” I plead, holding onto him with both hands. The shepherd dog is incredibly strong, and I’m incredibly not. But I’ll be damned if I let him get attacked by a bear. “Stay with me, okay? I need you.”
Blaze flicks his gaze to me for one quick moment, understanding seeming to linger in those big brown eyes. For as quick as his attention returns to the bear and his dad, I’m convinced I imagined it.
Dash continues yelling at Brutus, marching toward him, and waving his arms. Blaze continues barking.
Brutus stands up, and I cry out. “Dash!”
Dash doesn’t back down.
He’s either incredibly stupid or incredibly brave.
Me?
I’m incredibly stupid.
How did I ever think nature could be relaxing? I never thought I’d actually get eaten by a bear. That’s just something people say to be funny when they are out of shape and the idea of hiking nine point six miles sounds about as appealing as sleeping on a mattress made of nails.
Just as I think Brutus is going to strike Dash, the bear drops back to all fours.
I hear a very distinct crunch.
My phone.
Double shit.
The bear, apparently tired of Dash yelling at him, turns and trots off down the hill, disappearing into the lower tree line.
My entire body sags in relief, tears springing to my eyes as I lead Blaze into the tower. I wait inside as Dash climbs the stairs, taking them two or three at a time judging by how quickly he flies up them. The second he comes through the door, I pounce on him.
I throw both arms around his neck and kiss him.
Hard.
His response is instant. As though he’d been planning to storm through the door and kiss me like there was no tomorrow all along. Our mouths move in a hungry, desperate rhythm fueled by adrenaline and lust. His strong, tattooed arms hold me so tight against his hard body I can barely breathe.
Oh how badly I want this man.
He’s the only thing in my crumbling, shitty life that feels right.
Wetness pools between my legs, and I let out a whimper as I feel the graze of his hard length against my belly.
We’re a tangle of limbs, lips, and longing as he leads me to the bed.
His beard tickles my neck as he greedily kisses my exposed skin.
I thread my fingers through the back of his hair, admiring the salt and pepper dashes near his temples.
He’s older than me. By ten years? Fifteen? I’m not sure, and I don’t care.
All I know is that I don’t want him to stop.
His hand slides up my stomach, settling on my breast.
“These god damn nipples,” he growls against the shell of my ear.
“You don’t like them?”
“I want to fucking devour them.
He tugs the shirt I’ve tucked into my jeans free, pushing it up until my yellow lace bra is exposed.
“Is everything about you so fucking sunshine?” Dash asks, the deep timbre of his voice causing the wetness between my legs to multiply. Only he could ask a semi-insulting question and make it sound sexy.
“I like yellow,” I say, flashing him a purposefully chipper smile. “It’s a cheerful color.”
He palms my tit through the lace, pushing it up and bringing the erect nipple to his mouth.
He suckles it through the fabric, and I nearly go blind.
Never in my life have I experienced such extreme pleasure from something so simple.
I’m still wearing all my clothes, but I could come if he keeps going on like this.
“Miss Sunshine,” he growls against my sensitive nipple.
Why does that pet name turn me on so damn much? I let out a soft moan, sinking into sensation. Sinking into him.
“So cheerful,” he continues, his words mashed against my lace-covered boob. “You drive me so fucking crazy.”
“If the yellow bra offends you, you can always take it off.”
His hand snakes around my back, fingers an inch from the clasp, when a loud beep sounds.
I let out a scream, still on edge from the whole Brutus thing.
“It’s just the radio,” Dash says, flashing me one of those panty-melting smiles as he pushes up off the bed.
The instant he’s on his feet, the chilled air rushes me. But I don’t adjust my shirt. As soon as he finishes attending to business, I want to pick up exactly where we left off. I want to stay tangled in this fantasy for every minute we have together. I don’t care how reckless it is.
I can’t hear the conversation clearly. I’m too lost in my lusty haze. But I hear Dash say the word “weather” as though it’s a question. And it’s then I notice how dark it’s gotten outside.
The first heavy raindrops patter against the glass on two sides.
“Tomorrow? You’re sure?” Dash repeats. “Roger that.”
“Tomorrow what?” I ask when he clips the radio receiver back in its home.
“Weather’s rolling in,” Dash says, nodding out the west window. “Heavy rains. Possible severe thunderstorms could pop up. Chopper can’t make it back until tomorrow when it clears.”
“That’s…inconvenient.” I flash him a devilish smile, but his hardened expression only deepens. Wait. What the hell?
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—we can’t—this was a mistake.”
“A mistake?” I repeat, my tone a challenge.
“It’s not going to happen again, so put your clothes back on.” With that stumbled but cold declaration, he rushes out the door, leaving me not just confused but also really irritated that I’m stuck here overnight with the grumpy mountain man and the building humiliation I feel.
Just fucking great.