Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
HAWK
“A lady’s imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony in a moment.”
~ Fitzwilliam Darcy
Jack’s voice echoed off the walls, so loud I jumped and nearly bobbled my mug of cocoa. “What?”
“Two sleeping bags, Hawk. One.” He pointed a finger at the bag I was sitting on. “And two.” He pointed at Crys’s sleeping bag, which I’d left with my other spare supplies.
“I… I… What?” I asked again. His words still weren’t making sense.
“Is it…? Are you expecting Si—someone tonight?” Jack demanded, pushing to his feet. “Crys said… But I didn’t think… Do you want me to leave?”
I gaped at him. We’d been getting along so well.
He’d made me cocoa with so many marshmallows I was pretty sure my nose was sticky.
He’d packed books in his backpack alongside his emergency flashlight and first aid kit because he knew that, to me, they were just as essential.
He’d brought me my very favorite sandwiches—which were absolutely not leftovers from lunch, thank you very much, since these weren’t on the summer menu, but I’d been too besotted by his thoughtfulness to call him out on his lie.
And now… this.
I crossed my arms. “My plans are none of your concern.”
Jack stalked closer. His eyes narrowed with an intensity I rarely saw but which always managed to mangle my insides and weaken my knees. “Whose. Sleeping bag. Is. It?”
My heart galloped wildly. “Worried that I’ve organized tent orgies on Fogg Peak?” I goaded. “Wondering if I arranged some kind of thunderstorm sex fest here in Kirkcaster Cave? So what if I did? None. Of. Your. Business.” Two could play at the stilted-speaking thing.
Jack’s mouth opened in shock before closing with a determined clack. “Changed my mind. I’m not leaving. Whoever you have coming here will just have to deal.”
“Suit yourself,” I said.
I snatched up both our mugs and took them to the mouth of the cave to wash them out. Darkness filled the forest around us as the rain pounded the ground, but I didn’t hear any thunder yet.
For three days, I’d thought of nothing but Jack.
So many times, whether I was setting up signage on Glassy Ridge, or laughing over how many followers I’d gotten overnight when one of my posts went viral, or stargazing at night, I’d turned my head to say something to him, expecting him to be right there, as usual, ready to offer advice, or make a snarky joke, or simply share my joy.
I’d missed him so much I ached.
But this new tension between us? The protective walls we’d both thrown up and were now defending by launching angry barbs at each other’s tender spots?
Yeah, no, I hadn’t missed that.
I wanted to scream at him, to confront him with his odd inconsistencies.
How could he care enough about me to make my favorite sandwiches, be attracted enough to me to get hard when we almost kissed, climb up a fucking mountain just to tempt me with his nearness, and act all jealous and overbearingly cockblocky, when he’d made it abundantly clear that he would not be having sex with me under any circumstances?
The sound of the falling water was hypnotic, and I wondered at the irony of being trapped here in a cave during a heavy rainstorm with the person I cared about most but who didn’t want me the same way. Or… who wanted me but wouldn’t allow himself to have me.
I’d changed my mind about forced proximity being hot. This shit was awful.
Even now, annoyed as I was, I could sense his presence in the cave behind me, feel his hot gaze tracking my every movement, practically hear his heart beat.
My dick was half-hard just from his nearness.
Being stranded in this small space with him all night was going to be torture.
If he wouldn’t be with me the way I wanted, I almost wished he’d leave so I could jerk off in the privacy of my own tent.
Why can’t I?
When I walked back to set the mugs down near the rest of the cooking gear, I glanced over and found him watching me steadily.
“You can use my extra sleeping bag,” I told him. “But you’re sleeping out here. The tent is mine.”
He blew out a breath. “Bird,” he began. “I’m being ridiculous. I’m sorry—”
The affectionate nickname did things to my belly, but I hardened my heart.
“You should be. You’re being an ass.”
“I’m not… that is…” He sighed. “We’ve shared a tent a dozen times—”
“Yes we have.” Nerves made my hands shake, but I played it cool. “But my plans tonight require privacy.”
“Seriously?” Jack stared at me. “What plans? Reading? It would be way warmer with both of us together. Remember that time at Joney Creek?”
“It’s summertime. You’ll be fine. And you can have my blanket, too.” I avoided his eyes.
“But…”
“I want to have an orgasm, Jack,” I said baldly.
I took a breath and lifted my gaze to his.
“A good one. I need it. Out here on my own, I’ve discovered it’s the easiest way to fall asleep on the hard ground.
Otherwise, I toss and turn. So. Sure. If you’re okay being next to me while I do that, come on in. Join me.”
Our eyes locked together for a heavy beat. Heat crackled between us, making a mockery of my comment about him needing an extra blanket.
Jack’s eyes widened comically, and it seemed like his pupils followed suit. “Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh.” I crawled through the tent opening and removed my boots, setting them outside. I removed my tube of lube from my backpack like lubing up in front of Jack Wyatt was the sort of thing I did all the time. Then I carefully zipped the tent closed. “Night, Jack. Sleep well.”
The shifting sound of the nylon sleeping bag against the floor of the tent sounded louder than normal. I pulled off my clothes until I wore only my socks, boxer briefs, and T-shirt before scooting down into the chilly softness of my sleeping bag and praying it would heat up quickly.
My dick was suddenly softer than ever, impacted dramatically by stage fright. I hadn’t been lying about discovering the positive effects of masturbation on my ability to sleep out here, but could I really do it with him listening in?
I shivered inside the bag and tried to get comfortable.
After a few minutes, Jack’s voice came through the thin tent walls. “Are you… do you need anything?”
I huffed out a little laugh. Yes. I needed his hot, wet mouth on my cock. But that wasn’t what he’d meant. “No. All good. Thanks, though.”
He made a deep hum of acknowledgment, and the vibrations of the familiar masculine sound went straight to my balls. What do you know? He was already helping.
I’d left Jack the battery-operated lantern so he’d have light to lay out a tarp and unroll the spare sleeping bag. But that meant that I could make out his shadow through the fabric that separated us.
The man hadn’t moved a single muscle. Almost like he was waiting for something.
Waiting for me.
I reached my hand down into my underwear and cupped myself before stroking slowly up my shaft.
A sigh escaped me as I relaxed into the warming cocoon of the sleeping bag.
The silky feel of the nylon slid across my bare arms and legs.
Jack’s breathing was rough, almost loud enough to make out over the rhythmic sound of the rain outside the cave’s entrance.
“Fuck,” I breathed softly as stage fright gave way and my cock hardened beneath my fingers. This wasn’t just anyone listening—this was Jack. And knowing he was right there, hearing me touch myself, focused on me, wondering exactly what I was doing, was more exciting than I could have imagined.
There was a sudden flurry of movement and then the rustle of a sleeping bag much closer than I’d expected, as if he’d chosen to settle down right outside the tent’s zipper door rather than on the other side of the open cave. The lantern shut off… and then there was only darkness.
More rustling sounded, practically next to my ear, followed by a soft curse and then the faint plop of fabric hitting fabric.
Jack was pulling off his own clothes.
Jack was getting naked.
Just inches away from me.
My dick hardened even more.
“Unghh.” I couldn’t hold back the moan that escaped when I realized my tip was sticky wet.
I used the slick to ease my strokes before remembering the lube I’d brought with me.
The click of the bottle cap sounded like a shot in the near silence of the cave, and the first spurt of the lube wasn’t much quieter.
Jack sucked in a breath. “What are you doing?”
“I told you what I’m doing.” My voice sounded rough to my own ears, needy and unsteady. I wanted the release badly, but I also wanted to tease myself into waiting for it. I shoved down my boxers and took a deep breath.
“Now? Here?” His voice was high-pitched, incredulous.
I didn’t answer. Instead, I used the deep sound of his voice to add to my fantasy that it was Jack’s own furtive hand exploring me in the darkness of the tent while the storm raged outside.
“So good,” I whispered, arching up into my grip. The lube made a squelching noise that was nearly obscene.
I didn’t care if he could hear me—I welcomed it. He was attracted to me, and we both knew it. He could have been in here with me. Instead, he’d chosen to use ridiculous, arbitrary rules to keep us apart.
So be it. But I wasn’t going to make it easy for him.
“Fuck,” I groaned, kicking away the top layer of my sleeping bag until the chilly air washed over my hot skin.
I moved a slick finger down my taint to my hole and toyed with my rim.
Even though I was technically a virgin, I wasn’t inexperienced.
I loved playing with myself, which was partly why I was so desperate these days to experience the real thing.
I squirted out more lube, getting myself good and wet before stretching myself open. The sound of my lubed finger moving in and out of my tight hole was obvious to anyone paying attention…
And Jack was definitely paying attention.
“Bird,” he croaked softly. “Are you… is that… nngh.”
His sleeping bag rustled again, and he let out a loud exhale before the telltale sound of his own fist shuttling over his cock made its way through the tent wall between us.
“Are you touching yourself, Jack?”
“Oh god.”
I bit my lip. “What does it feel like?” I whispered. “Is it as good as my mouth would be?”
My face ignited at my brazen question. Who the hell was I right now? Since when did I make graphic suggestions to anyone, much less the man who’d already expressed his unwillingness to go there with me?
But he’s masturbating to the sound of you. And it’s hot as hell.
“I’ve thought of your cock so many times,” I confessed on a moan. “What it would look like. What it would taste like—”
Jack’s breaths were coming in little pants now, like he was trying to be quiet but couldn’t.
“—what it would feel like inside me.”
“Hawk,” Jack whispered. I wasn’t sure he intended for me to hear him—in fact, I was almost certain he hadn’t—and that only made it hotter.
“Gonna come,” I ground out, feeling the tingles down my thighs and in my groin. “I can’t hold back. Fuck, fuck.”
The sound of Jack’s movements sped up as my brain filled with static. I shoved my t-shirt up to my neck and shouted out his name as my release washed over me, hitting hot and wet across my belly and chest and sending my nerves flying.
As I lay there coming down from the euphoria and feeling the night air settle across my exposed skin, I heard Jack’s heavy breathing.
Had he…?
I opened my mouth to ask him, but then I closed it with a snap. If he wanted to acknowledge what had just happened between us, that was up to him.
After a few more moments, I heard him moving around. I took the opportunity to clean myself up with a bandana from my backpack and snuggle back into my sleeping bag.
Jack didn’t say a single word. Neither did I.
I lay awake for a long time, staring at the ceiling of the tent, feeling my anger rise yet again.
So this was where we drew the line, huh? A mutual masturbation session was fine, but actually seeing or touching each other was not? Was this the boundary that was supposed to protect our friendship? Because I was not feeling protected.
In fact, the more I thought about how fucking close he’d been, how it would have been the work of seconds for him to unzip that tent door and experience that orgasm with me, the more hurt and rejected I felt.
Jack Wyatt needed to leave… and he needed to stay gone.