Chapter 5
Grayson
Amelia looked like she was about to come undone.
I bit back a smile as I worked my belt buckle loose, watching her from the corner of my eye.
Her cheeks had flushed pink, her lips parted slightly, and those blue eyes of hers were tracking every movement I made like her life depended on it.
Out here in the wilds of Colorado, stripping down to your underwear for a dip in a hot spring was about as remarkable as putting on boots in the morning.
Everyone I knew did it.
Hell, half the time we didn’t even bother with underwear if the group was all men. But Amelia looked like she was watching something downright scandalous unfold before her eyes.
I tugged my jeans down over my hips, not trying too hard to hide the half-hard state of my cock beneath my boxer briefs.
Let her look. Let her see exactly what she was doing to me just by standing there with her flyaway hair and her soft curves and those eyes that seemed to widen over every inch of skin I revealed.
Kicking off my boots, I stepped out of my jeans, tugged my socks off, and straightened up.
“Your turn.”
Her throat worked as she swallowed hard.
I let out a small, husky laugh at the sight of her struggling, then grabbed my jeans and walked to the water’s edge, giving her space.
The Glock was a familiar weight in the back pocket, and I pulled it free before dropping the denim on a flat rock beside the spring. The gun went on top, within easy reach.
Then I stepped into the water.
The heat hit me as I sank into the hot spring. It seeped into muscles that had been aching for days, loosening knots that had been stubbornly hanging on.
That search and rescue mission three days ago had done a number on me. Some weekend hiker had taken a bad fall on the north ridge and shattered his leg in two places. I’d helped carry him out on a stretcher for four miles over rough terrain, and my shoulders still hadn’t forgiven me for it.
I sank deeper and groaned, letting the mineral-rich water work its magic. The warmth spread through my back, my arms, my thighs. Steam rose around me, carrying the familiar faint sulfur smell of a spring fed from deep underground. I closed my eyes and let out a long breath.
Behind me, I heard the soft rustle of clothes being removed.
I kept my back turned.
It was the right thing to do, giving her privacy to undress without my eyes on her. Even if every instinct in my body was screaming at me to turn around and drink in the sight of her.
“What’s the gun for?” she asked.
Her voice was closer now, and I heard the gentle splash of water as she approached the edge, dipping a toe in.
“I like to be prepared.” I kept my gaze fixed on the treeline across from the hot spring. “Bear spray’s a good thing, but a gun’s even better. After the tangle I had with a bitch of a mountain lion, I never come into the wilderness without it.”
I couldn’t help it then. I glanced over.
She was standing at the edge of the spring in nothing but a pair of pink panties and a matching bra. The sight of her hit me like a fist to the chest.
Amelia was plush everywhere. I didn’t know what to drink in first.
My gaze stumbled from her full breasts straining against her bra down to her soft belly before settling on her crazy thick thighs.
They were the kind of thighs I wanted to land in between.
She was built like a woman should be built, all warmth and softness and curves that a man could lose himself in.
And, hot damn, I wanted to be the man for that job.
I pulled my gaze away, letting her get into the water without me cave-manning all over her sweet ass.
The water rippled as she slipped in up to her hips.
I’d always been attracted to bigger women. I preferred a woman I could grab onto. And Amelia was exactly my type in every way that mattered.
She lowered herself into the water the rest of the way, and I watched the heat flush across her neck as the warmth enveloped her.
A soft sound escaped her lips, something between a sigh and a moan, and my cock went from half-hard to fully hard in about two seconds flat.
“The mountain lion,” she said quietly, settling onto one of the submerged rocks across from me. “Is that what caused the scar on your face?”
My hand went to my cheek without thinking, fingers brushing the raised edge of the scar that cut across my cheekbone and over the bridge of my nose.
“Yeah.”
“Was it scary?”
Her blue eyes were wide and curious, not morbid. She wasn’t asking to gawk at my trauma. She genuinely wanted to know.
“Scariest moment of my life,” I admitted. The words came easier than they should have. “I was tracking a lost hiker up near the ridge. Came around a boulder and there she was. Female, maybe a hundred and twenty pounds. She was a big one, and she had cubs nearby, which I didn’t know at the time.”
Amelia’s hand drifted to her throat.
“She was on me before I could reach for my knife. Knocked me flat on my back and went straight for my face.” I touched the scar again.
“Got me good with her claws before I managed to get my arm up. I punched her in the nose hard enough to stun her, then grabbed a rock and hit her until she decided I wasn’t worth the trouble. ”
“Oh my god.” Her voice was barely a whisper.
“Took thirty-seven stitches to close me up. Doc said I was lucky she missed my eye by about half an inch. If it had been a male panther, my odds might not have been so good.”
The steam rose between us, drifting into the cool mountain air. Her cleavage was just visible above the waterline, those soft curves glistening with moisture, and I had to force my gaze back up to her face.
“The alligators mostly leave you alone if you leave them alone and keep your distance. I can’t imagine having to fight off a wild animal like that.”
“Different kind of danger out here.” My voice came out rougher than I intended. “The mountains don’t care if you’re prepared or not. They’ll kill you just the same.”
She shivered despite the warm water, and something protective flared in my chest.
This was a bad idea. She was too young for me. Just passing through on her way to somewhere else.
And I was sitting here getting hard as a rock and talking to her like she was someone I’d known for years instead of a stranger I’d met over breakfast.
I couldn’t remember the last time talking to someone had felt this easy.
That thought scared me more than the mountain lion ever had.
My gaze dropped to the blessed view of her cleavage again, and I fought to stay on my side of the spring.
It was a small hot spring, perfect for two.
Just enough room for both of us to lounge across from each other.
I could close the distance in a matter of seconds, slip her flimsy bra out of the way and have my mouth on her breasts if I wanted to.
And based on the dewy look on her face, she’d welcome the attention.
My cock pulsed, begging me to close the distance. But I stayed rooted in place.
How old could she be? She definitely wasn’t in her thirties. Her skin was too smooth. If I had to guess I’d say she was in her mid-twenties, not a day older.
There were too many years between us for me to be thinking about her like this.