Tempted

Epilogue

It’s been four months since Alex made good on his promise. While I was attending my orientation in Seattle, his plan was to get us set up at an Airbnb near my forest headquarters town of Lusk.

He couldn’t find a place, and I thought this meant we’d be staying at a hotel anyway, until he drove me up a winding dirt road to an incredible A-frame cabin built on a ridge.

He couldn’t find an Airbnb, so he bought a place.

It’s a cozy place. We sleep on a queen bed in the loft, and the view from the A of windows is all rolling hills of giant evergreens.

I’m in bed now, listening to Alex get the fire started in the stove below as he does every morning before climbing back into bed.

It’s dark out, and the living room and loft are lit orange as the fire flickers to life. He comes back up the loft’s ladder, and I can’t help but grin as I do every morning as I lift the blankets to let him back into bed.

I flip onto my side, and he snuggles up against my back and runs his fingers up and down the base of my neck as the cabin warms.

His touch still electrifies me. It still makes me greedy for more of it. I wiggle into him and doze, safe and comfy, until it gets too hot for the big blankets. I shuck them off so I’m in my flannel pajamas and wool socks.

There is fresh snow up here in the mountains. It blankets everything. It’s only a few dusty inches, but it glows a dull blue now at dawn.

I’ve got that cozy feeling of reveling in my warmth as I stare out at the cold.

We’ve been alone at the cabin ever since Alex moved with me.

No security. No chefs. No paparazzi.

Nobody even knows Alex is out here. He works remotely, occasionally flying to New York for a day or two when he absolutely has to.

Most of the time he’s here, he’s reading or taking walks with me in the woods. He’s doing almost exactly what I would do with a billion dollars—taking it easy and listening to no one.

I rest my head on his chest as his hand travels farther down my back.

It’s a Sunday, and I won’t be joining my team at HQ to go over surveying plans or the million hiccups we’ve encountered. Despite the hurdles, the job has been even more exciting than I thought.

It’s far more fulfilling working in the field and problem solving with people than it is editing press releases on a laptop. And at the end of the days when I hike ten miles doing boundary surveying, Alex is here to take my boots off and give me a foot rub as I warm them by the fire.

He starts gently trailing his fingers from the nape of my neck down my spine.

I’m not cold anymore, but his fingers raise goose bumps as he rubs down to my butt. He stops just shy of between my legs.

I have to try not to rub against him like I’m in heat. I’m tortured as he caresses me slowly. It’s several minutes of teasing before he finally presses into the wet warmth between my legs with his strong fingers.

I look over my shoulder to see his chiseled body illuminated by the orange light of the fire.

The geometry of his abs. The architecture of his perfect jaw and cheekbones. I’m twisting my head all the way over my shoulder to get a glimpse of him, and it’s worth the discomfort.

He pushes my head straight and chokes me by applying the perfect amount of pressure. Then he pulls me so I’m lying on top of him with my butt just above his groin.

I can feel the length of his cock against my thigh. He strokes my clit with his thumb and fingers me at the same time.

I’m short for breath as it is, and the shallow breaths I suck down because of the tight hold he has on my neck push me to the edge quickly.

It’s only a couple minutes before I’m there.

“Oh fuck,” I say, choked. “Oh fuck.” My vision blurs to the same dull blue as the snow outside as a wave of pleasure shudders and shakes my every muscle. Alex hardly lets me recover before I feel the weight of his heavy cock enter me.

I’m still lying on top of him. It’s a position that wouldn’t work with men of a smaller size, but it’s a breeze for Alex.

He moves the hand he’d fingered me with and bars it across my breasts. He keeps me in position as he starts to thrust.

I moan as I feel him stretch me. “Fuck me hard.” I say it with a dare in my tone.

Alex obliges. I look down, and my eyes widen. I can see his cock in me. I can see it bobbing through the skin just below my belly with every thrust.

The image drives me wild, and it becomes hard to keep sight of it as my hair bounces in front of my eyes as Alex doesn’t hold back.

A minute passes. Or maybe ten. Space and time are lost on me.

Alex starts to grunt, and he holds me tighter against himself.

My eyes roll back as I feel his come shoot into me.

But I’m a lucky girl. This isn’t the end. He pulls out of me and moves so I fall back against the mattress. Then he sticks his cock in my mouth, but not before he rubs my face with its weighty warmth. I suck him until he’s fully hard again.

He sets both hands on my collarbones and presses into me as he enters again. He’s deeper in this position, if such a thing is possible. He starts to fuck me senseless. Wordless.

I can feel his muscled abdomen hitting against my clit, and I’m hit with another explosive orgasm. He slows down when the worst of my shaking passes and thrusts gently.

I turn to look over my shoulder, and we make eye contact. Our mouths open. Breaths heavy. I somehow want even more of this man.

Him being as deep in me as possible is not enough.

He softly brushes his knuckles against my cheek. His ability to turn a light touch into molten lava is a talent of his I don’t take for granted.

I feel my cheeks go flush, and he suddenly presses his cock all the way into me. I pant as he does it again. He pulls out slowly, almost all the way until only the tip of his head is left inside me, and then he thrusts. Hard.

The strokes drive me mad, and he does it until someone is screaming.

Me, of course. This isn’t New York. There are no neighbors. No feral alley cats to try to blame this sound on. I let myself be as loud as I want, and it only increases the pleasure. I can truly articulate just how wild this man drives me.

“Fuck.” Alex grunts as he thrusts into me. “You want to keep getting fucked?”

He puts his fingers in my mouth, so once again I’m nonverbal. All I can muster is a nod and widen my brown eyes up at him so they’re big and doe-eyed and begging.

He builds speed from his slow strokes, until all I can hear are my gasps and his grunts and the obscene sound of flesh slapping on flesh.

Another orgasm rolls through me like a billion bolts of lightning striking out from my core, and I feel Alex’s big arms flex as he finishes at the same time.

He collapses onto his elbows, and we both just breathe.

One of us starts laughing. I’m not sure who starts it, but soon we’re both laughing at the absurdity of our lives. Or just the sex.

We get to do this every damn morning.

Well, not the first week, because I needed some time to readjust to his size and not feel like I just rode the Tour de France upon waking up in the morning.

We cuddle for another half hour until the snow is no longer a cold blue but an encouraging orange. It’s going to be a sunny winter day.

Alex goes down first to make coffee, and I lie in the warm spot that still smells of his woody spice. I don’t know if he switched colognes or if a man just takes on a different smell when he lives in a log cabin, but Alex smells like sweat and wood like he’s been chopping logs all day.

I join him downstairs in the breakfast nook. The benches are covered with cozy pillows, and string lights hang over the table.

Who needs a mansion or penthouse when you can turn a cabin into a fairy tale for a fraction of the price?

“Pancakes?” Alex asks.

“Yes please.”

He heats up the cast iron, and I sip my coffee while I watch him cook. “I’m thinking we take a hike today. It didn’t snow in the valley. The trails should be clear,” Alex suggests.

“You’re the boss. Just give me at least…” I look up and to the left. “Four hours before we have sex again. Don’t press me up against a tree is all I’m saying.”

“Deal.” Alex plates my pancakes and slides onto the bench next to me.

I turn to him before I eat. “Lucas wants to come visit us with his new girlfriend the weekend of the fourteenth.”

Lucas met Victoria in San Francisco. She’s a senior software developer who works remotely and is moving to New York. Their meeting felt like fate. It makes me feel better that something came out of Lucas being sequestered on the West Coast for the fake security scare. He’s not mad at Alex or me for dating. But he wouldn’t be happy if he learned that Alex was the one behind why he had to leave.

Luckily, the way the Summit Bank treated him in San Francisco was enough for him to quit when he came back. He’s currently where I was a few months ago and on the hunt for a new job.

Alex hasn’t told Lucas the truth yet. He jokes that he’ll save it for his best man speech at Lucas and Victoria’s wedding, but I can tell it makes him feel guilty whenever I bring up my brother these days.

“That’s fine,” Alex says. “The sheets need swapping on the guest bed, however.”

I frown. We haven’t had any visitors yet, but then I remember that there have been several instances where Alex and I didn’t bother climbing the ladder to the loft before getting intimate.

I lean forward to get a glimpse of the guest room through the open door. The sheets are a tangled mess. The frame is crooked against the wall. The bed looks like it’s seen the battle of Stalingrad.

“Right.”

“Maybe I should put you up against a tree more often. We’d save a lot on water.”

“Ha-ha.”

He kisses me on the lips, and the sensation still lights up my insides like a smooth glass of whiskey. The burn of him hasn’t lessened any.

I’ve probably lost ten pounds since we started dating, from my heart rate constantly soaring when I meet those ice-blue eyes.

We finish our pancakes and coffee, and after getting dressed, we drive to the trailhead in the valley.

Thankfully, these trails are deserted in the winter, so we don’t have to share the woods with hundreds of weekenders. The particular path Alex chooses is one of the prettiest in this whole section of the Cascades if you ask me. It’s an old growth parcel of the forest that was protected from logging.

It’s filled with Douglas Firs as big around as minivans and ferns that reach up to my ribs. It was almost going to be a part of the new National Forest, but the funds weren’t there.

Alex and I hold hands as we walk. We stroll slowly, our heads tilted up, trying to find the tops of the towering trees, but the tallest all disappear into fog.

“Today’s a good day,” Alex says.

“It is,” I say, but apparently, he’s referencing something other than our mythical morning. He hands me his phone. There’s a lengthy headline at the top of the screen.

Emails Reveal Fords Knew About System Failure Before Deadly Accident. Joked About Miners’ Deaths After.

“What’s this?” I have a feeling this isn’t good news for my asshole ex.

“It’s the end of my pet project.” Alex looks at the screen.

“Taking down the Chesters?”

“Yes.”

I’m remembering the last time Alex thought they’d face justice. They simply bought their way out of it. “Are they really going to face consequences because of this?”

“Not in America. I’m not making the mistake of trusting our courts again.”

“I didn’t think international courts did these kinds of cases.”

“I’m not using international courts, either.”

Alex takes his phone back, and when he shows me the screen again, there’s a video playing on Twitter.

A black Mercedes is attempting to inch through a busy street filled with a crowd of screaming men and women. They’re Bolivians, and they’re throwing rocks at the windshield. A man takes a crowbar to the passenger window, and the glass of the Benz breaks to reveal Ford Junior’s shocked face. His fattened round cheeks compliment the surprised O of his mouth.

The video stops there.

“I spoke with the Bolivian journalist who uncovered the emails. We agreed it was better to sit on them and release the story the next time the Ford boys were visiting the village the mine is in for the grand reopening after the accident. We thought we’d let the families of those they killed decide what to think of the Fords.”

“Holy shit.”

Alex puts his phone away. Despite the win, he looks troubled.

“Are they alive?”

“I don’t know. This was from an hour ago. Nothing has been heard since.”

“How do you feel?” I ask, watching his face.

“Happy isn’t the right word.”

“Satisfied?”

We keep walking, and Alex scans the trees as if the word he’s looking for might be among them. “Relieved,” he says. “Relieved those bastards are done plundering the world.”

I lean against him while we walk. “You know the women of New York thank you, too.”

He laughs. “Yeah, one less forked-tongue fucker.”

“In a city of thousands of them, every little bit counts.”

“But that’s not the only thing that happened today. I would’ve preferred to wait to tell you so street justice in Bolivia wasn’t fresh on your mind, but you’ll hear about it at work tomorrow.”

“Hey, I’m not a softie. In this case, I happen to like street justice.”

Alex reaches into his inner coat pocket and takes out several sheets of paper that have been folded into a square.

He hands them to me.

“What’s this?” I start to unfold the papers, and Alex doesn’t respond, apparently suggesting with his silence that I’ll have my answer soon enough.

And I do. Kind of.

The top reads, Deed of Land.

“You bought the land around the cabin?” I ask.

Alex smiles. “Just read it.”

But I’m almost too excited to read it. Alex doesn’t mess around with gifts or surprises. He always takes me off my feet. I’m holding my breath as I scan the paper.

It grants the use of 4,256 acres of land to…the United States Department of the Interior.

I don’t understand. “Alex… I’m not very fluent in legalese.”

He thumps his boot on the dirt. “It’s for this. All this land… All these trees…” He looks around. “I bought it to give to the park.”

“What?” I freeze. My brows peak in disbelief.

“Under one condition.” He points to the Deed of Land. “That this section would be named Hailee’s Trail.”

“Are you serious?” My vision blurs with tears.

“Quite serious, rabbit.”

My hands are trembling. I hand the deed back. Some girls might prefer a concert hall to be named after them. Maybe a boat. But the eternity of this gesture is almost too much.

“How long will it have my name?”

“The trail? As long as America is a country. I got that in writing.”

“So two, maybe three years?” I try to laugh, but I’m too overwhelmed, and my joke comes out as more of a cry.

“Maybe ten.” Alex shrugs, grinning. “You never know.”

He wraps both his arms around me from behind and tilts his head to my ear. I feel his warmth against me.

I close my eyes. Mine. This man is mine. And I am so completely his.

“I love you, Hailee.”

“I love you, too.”

His lips press against mine. They feel hot in the cold air. I could kiss him like this for hours. Standing here until my lips and legs get sore. Until I starve to death. And then the name Hailee’s Trail would have legend. These woods would be haunted by the ghost of a woman who’d rather die than break a kiss.

Eventually we do part, as my phone buzzes persistently in my pocket. It’s as if the universe is reminding me that no moment can be completely perfect. Service is too damn good in this valley.

“Sophia’s calling me,” I say, looking at my phone. “She rarely ever calls. I’m sure it’s important.”

Alex extends a hand that says, By all means.

I answer. “Hey Sophia.”

“They sold the penthouse above me,” Sophia says immediately. There’s exasperation in her voice.

“Is that a good thing? Or is your rent going through the roof?”

“No. The only thing going through the roof is me. James Callaway moved in. All he does is have sex at two in the morning and listen to loud classical music like he’s Count Dracula. It’s been two days, and I’m at my wits’ end.”

“Um…”

“I know he and Alex are friends. Can you have him do something?”

“I don’t think he has that kind of control.”

“I’m showing a sculpture to a VIP client in an hour, and I look like I was at the bars until close. But I wasn’t. I took a bath at nine and was under the sheets by ten. But the sounds these women make… Can you ask Alex if James owns a big cat? Like a tiger? I hear they’re nocturnal, and it would make a lot more sense.”

“Does James Callaway own a tiger?” I ask Alex, and he squints as if he has to think about it before shaking his head. As if this was a perfectly reasonable question.

“Alex says no tiger that he’s aware of.”

“Damn.”

“Maybe you should go talk to him. You know, like a neighbor?”

“He’s terrifying. He’s got eyes like a big cat. I’m afraid he’ll bite my neck and drag me inside. Anyway, I’ve gotta go. I love you, Hailee.”

“Love you, Sophia. And good luck.”

“Thanks.”

I hang up and look at Alex. He’s got a smirk on his face.

“What?” I ask. “What is it?”

“With James Callaway, Sophia’s gonna need it.”

I lock hands with him, and we walk, hardly exchanging another word as we admire the beauty of Hailee’s Trail. But when we’re stopped and the trees and the fog are as pretty as a portrait, I still can’t help but keep my eyes locked on Alex.

I interrupt the silence for a kiss, and the feeling in my stomach as our lips touch is much stronger than butterflies.

It feels more like rabbits.