Chapter 15
EASTON
Sounds echo around me outside the crammed camper. The space so confined in the vastness of the forest—I hear everything.
Birds chirping. Branches crumbling. Woodpeckers pecking. Wolves howling. Collie’s deep breaths. The soft whimpers she makes when she hits REM sleep.
I’ve been up for hours with nothing on my mind but the way my hand gripped her slender thigh like it was second nature on the horse yesterday. Not to mention how she kept it there like she never wanted me to let go.
I can’t get her bold offer out of my mind. “I could use some relief, and by the looks of it, you could too.”
I’m fucked.
The sun is starting to rise, and although it’s still early in the morning—close to five, if I had to guess—I can see every detail across Collie’s perfect complexion from the glow of the moon still lingering beyond the sunroof.
We kept the shade open last night, refusing to let go of the tranquility that comes with the gloom of the forest for a while longer.
But Yellowstone can’t compare to the natural beauty of a woman. Collie’s, to be exact. The way freckles delicately dance across her nose. The nose that I’ve noticed perks in this cute and innocent way when she’s curious about something.
And fuck, is the woman curious. It draws me in.
The biggest part of me wants to say fuck it and give in to her. But the other wants to take the next flight home. Oddly, I feel safe enough to be imperfect, and I don’t know what to do with that revelation.
I’m also horny and can imagine pretty fucking clearly all the ways Collie could satisfy my every craving. Because I’m craving her in a way that has the potential to damage us both in the end.
If I touched her, I’m not sure I could stop.
It’s been too long. Sydney and I slept together less than five times, if that. I know that fact would surprise most people if they knew. We tried to fill the physical aspect that was missing. But somehow, it never felt the way we both knew it should, yet we still ignored it.
Almost two years of ignoring it. Pretending to be what we needed for each other, despite knowing it all felt wrong. Living a life you never wanted feels a lot like imprisoning yourself.
Essentially, it is.
I forget all that when I’m around my fake wife.
My eyes can’t help but follow the slope of Collie’s chest as she sleeps beside me—with a pillow between us.
Fuck that pillow. Her small tits rising and falling in beat with her breath.
I’m confident if the thick blanket covering her were to slip just a little lower, I’d find nipples hardened to sharp peaks, begging me to touch them.
Suck them between my lips until she squirms with need for me.
I know this is the way I should have felt about the woman I was set to marry.
I adjust my cock, feeling like a sick fuck just knowing where my thoughts are with her. But there’s something about Collie that tells me she wouldn’t stop me. She’d urge me to touch myself and let her watch.
She propositioned me, and I won’t sleep another minute until I’ve fully processed that.
Just when I get my cock to calm down, Collie wiggles slightly, that godforsaken blanket slipping just like I predicted, revealing the most perfect set of tits beneath her long-sleeve V-neck.
Shit. I should get up and go do something. Something productive like make breakfast, fish, jump off a cliff—anything but stare.
But I can’t. I’m zoned in on the way her back arches and her body searches for something. Warmth, maybe? It’s when her hands slide from under the covers and rest at the peaks of her breasts that my breath hitches.
My mouth turns dry as, on instinct, Collie pinches her hardened nipples over her shirt. A soft moan escapes her lips on impact, and my eyes roll to the back of my head, dying to feel them for myself.
Just a touch.
“Mmmm,” her quiet voice murmurs deliriously.
My hand covers my cock, and I’m ashamed.
Not enough to stop, though. This is the high I’ve craved over the last two years.
The high I once chased with Sydney, thinking she could feed it.
But she couldn’t. The need to fucking come.
My body is in overdrive, dying to feel just an ounce of forbidden pleasure.
Collie is my satisfaction. The instrument fine-tuning me. Bringing me back to a place of unwavering confidence.
“Easton.”
I freeze. She just said my name. While touching herself. Holy shit. Am I dreaming?
God, I want to touch her. Replace her hands with mine and let her nipples rid me of any mercy. But I slip my hand in my sweatpants instead and grip my length with a strong tug. Fuck, that feels good. Better if Collie were the one touching me, but it’ll do for now.
I train my focus on the way her bottom lip pulls between her teeth, a quivering inhale the only sound I hear between us.
“Please,” Collie moans.
I stroke my length, the shamefulness behind me now as I fall in sync with her pleasure. Collie lets go of her nipples, but only to hold the fullness of her tits between her palms. Her hips buck at the sensation, and my strokes quicken, the need to come at an all-time high.
All it took was Collie moaning my name, and I was a goner. Done for, without a single care for what anyone thinks. I know it’ll come back to haunt me, but right now, I’m not sure I could stop even if she caught me.
My cock aches, and I intend to enjoy the view.
The moment one of her hands slips beneath the blanket, I know where it’s headed. Straight to her pretty pussy. The pussy I haven’t had the pleasure of seeing, but can only imagine how fucking ripe and perfect it is.
My insides tighten as I grip myself at the root and run my fist to the tip with a relaxed stroke.
“Mmmm. Just like that,” she whimpers, and that’s all it takes.
Collie fingering herself might just be the sexiest thing I’ve ever witnessed. One stroke later, I’m coming in my sweats, body seizing beneath my blanket as I watch her touch herself.
“Fuck,” I hiss, the pleasure too much. Too good.
It takes me a moment to relax, but when I do, the guilt hits. Guilt not only for getting myself off and watching her, but also for seeing my brother’s face in the background.
Fucking Ben.
Would he be disappointed in me for being here and not back home with his girl? Doing the one thing I promised him I’d always do?
I honestly don’t know what he would think, and that’s what tears me up inside. I need to get out of this van. I also need to stop being a little bitch and read his letter.
But again, I know I won’t because then I’ll be forced to grieve more than I already have. And Ben and I both know I’ve half-assed that since he left this earth.
I’m aware I’m always the one saving people. But why do I suddenly feel like I’ve needed it more than anyone else all along?
Knock. Knock. “Top of the morning, lovebirds.”
The fuck?
I still, eyes bulging at the sound of Sheila tapping the camper door. Collie stirs beside me, and I can’t get up because my sweatpants are full of cum.
“Morning, Sheila,” I groan, fighting to hide the embarrassment in my voice.
Her full laugh is all I hear before she says, “I’m a mornin’ in the sheets kinda girl myself. I’ll just leave the bear spray and schedule for ya right here, my darlin’.”
Jesus Christ.
Collie and I have done everything we can to avoid Sheila and Dirty Dan, but somehow they find a way to make themselves known in the most inconvenient times.
Like now, for instance.
“Thanks, but no thanks,” I holler back, finding Collie’s eyes on me as I look down. I don’t think Sheila heard anything. I was quiet and in the privacy of our camper. But just in case, I shout, “And mind your business, woman.”
Collie sends me a sweet smile and giggles. “She’s persistent.” Her soft voice is laced with sleep.
I shake my head. “I think irritating is a better word.” I peer out the camper window, confirming Sheila’s retreat, and turn back toward Collie. “I’m gonna go shower. We’ve got a long day today.”
She nods, looking at me with uncertainty, but doesn’t pry. “Okay.”
And I shuffle out the hatch on a one-track mind to clean myself up and beg for the forgiveness I know I’ll never get.
“Do you ever wear clothes?”
“Do you ever smile?” Collie retorts, holding up her hot chocolate like it gives her life. It’s freezing outside, so I’d have to agree.
“Occasionally.” No. I rarely do anymore. Nothing worth smiling for. But she doesn’t need to know that.
“Then I occasionally wear clothes.” She sends me a smile that I know from experience is of defiance and not compassion.
I take a sip of mine. “It’s nearly twenty degrees out, Collie.” The walking temptation is in a pair of cotton shorts with a blanket thrown over her legs—thankfully, she accepted that layer of warmth I insisted she use.
Stubborn woman. But unfortunately for me, her jacket lies haphazardly across her shoulders, revealing the flush of her creamy chest underneath.
Not fucking warm enough.
Not to mention, I don’t need to see her. Not when her skin resembles satin, and her freckles inch across the slopes of her slender frame, begging me to follow them with my tongue.
My beautiful fake wife with dainty flowers in her hair. Dainty? Such a contradiction of a word for a woman who’s a sublime force.
What is going on with me? I’m falling apart. Never once with Sydney was I tempted to touch another woman. I was faithful to her despite never loving her romantically.
But Collie…she’s unique. Real. Alluringly beautiful. Petite, but toned with curves from her athleticism.
I feel myself being affected by her mere presence more than I should, and that terrifies me.
We decided to start a fire to wind down for the night after spending the day exploring the other side of the park. Collie and I both wanted to check off seeing Old Faithful. Thankfully, we didn’t plan the day around the experience because we both agreed it was anticlimactic as shit.