Chapter 3 Tatum
Tatum
I’m pretty sure the humidity is what’s going to kill me. Forget about the wolves and the bears Abel warned me about. All of the rain has done nothing but heat up our surroundings.
Abel’s leading this hike, thank goodness. Despite his occasional glances over his shoulder, he isn’t seeing me at my worst. Sweating, panting, and ready to give up on this whole hike altogether.
This is what I get for working simple customer service jobs for years. Sitting in a comfy chair for hours on end and snacking between calls is really biting me in the butt.
“Almost there.” As if he can read my mind, he reassures me with the two words.
Maybe he can hear how heavy my breathing is becoming. How embarrassing.
“You know, I should’ve expected it to be all uphill, but this kind of sucks.” Letting out my first complaint, I try not to open up the floodgates. The last thing Abel will want to listen to is me moaning and groaning. Not after he went out of his way to make this happen.
Yet, he rumbles with a chuckle. The noise catches me off guard, and it takes me a second to realize that it came from him.
Despite it taking more energy than I have to give, I catch up to him so I can walk at his side instead of in his shadow.
“So…” Sucking in a lungful of air, I leave my shame at the door as I pant. “Yesterday, you said everyone only comes up here if they’re running away from something. What’s your story? Tell me it’s cooler than mine.”
Rolling his shoulder, I catch the small smile on his lips. “I wouldn’t bet on it. I just prefer what this space brings more than what the town does. I can say that I’m not a people person, but that feels more like an excuse. I just enjoy staying off the grid.”
A reasoning as simple as that is okay to drop everything and live up here? I’m jealous of him and the life he has. There’s one glaring problem that pops up when I consider the idea of doing something similar.
“What about the future? If you’re up here, how are you going to meet anyone?” His solitude must be the reason a woman isn’t already taking up his space. That’s something I noticed immediately after entering his home. “Do you really want to live out your whole life alone?”
From the way he makes a choking sound, I realize my question isn’t a normal one to ask someone you’ve just met. Right. Well, there’s no backtracking now.
It can’t hurt to ask if he’s looking for a wife. If he’s not picky, then maybe I…
“Not my whole life, no.” He’s panting now, like he’s done more talking in this moment than he’s done in a lifetime. “I don’t think I’ve met a man who doesn’t want someone to share his space with. Unfortunately, the only people I come across are hikers who are here temporarily.”
“And people who accidentally get scammed, right?” Cracking a smile, I don’t feel as sore as I did yesterday. It’s thanks to Abel that I’m not utterly destroyed over it.
Heck, the rain’s all gone, and the sky is full of white fluffy clouds, yet he hasn’t mentioned me leaving as of yet. Might as well enjoy the chance of seeing how long he’ll let me linger, right?
“Sure,” the corners of his eyes crinkle, “those too. Though I hope you’re the only one who tries to break into my cabin.”
Warmth creeps up my throat, but before I can correct him, he stops and turns his attention forward.
“This is it.”
Following his gaze, a gasp escapes me as we come across our destination.
A pond so big, it doesn’t feel right classifying it as one.
The water is so impossibly clear that I can see fish swimming among the rocks below the surface.
Sunlight fractures across the bottom, casting dancing patterns that make the whole scene look alive, breathing. “It’s beautiful.”
“Sure is.” He drops his pack, kneeling to untie his boots, and I watch the way his back muscles shift beneath his shirt. “Does the hike feel more worth it now?”
Oh yeah. The view alone makes every burning muscle and drop of sweat worthwhile. When I tell him so, he chuckles again—that low, rumbling sound that I’m starting to crave without understanding why. It vibrates somewhere in my chest, settling warm and heavy.
Following his lead, I kick off my sneakers. But when he stands and peels his shirt overhead, I freeze, fingers pinching my own fabric.
Whoa.
I knew this guy was big, but this is… my mouth goes dry.
The broad expanse of his back greets me—skin tanned golden from countless hours outdoors, glistening with a fine sheen of sweat from the hike.
A scattering of freckles trails down his spine like a path I suddenly want to follow with my fingertips. He’s flawless. But it’s more than that.
He’s hot. The kind of hot that makes something low in my belly tighten and pulse.
When he turns, revealing his front, I realize I’m in way over my head.
His chest is all smooth muscle and warm skin, with a light dusting of hair that trails down his stomach and disappears beneath the waistband of his swim trunks.
My fingers itch to follow that line. How am I supposed to pull off my shirt and feel even an ounce of confidence when he looks like he stepped out of a magazine I’d secretly flip through alone at night?
The way I packed was with the assumption that I’d be alone out here, with only birds as witnesses.
He catches my hesitation, one bushy eyebrow lifting. “What is it?”
Heat floods me all at once—face, chest, and that deeper place between my thighs that stirs to life whenever he looks at me too long.
I clutch my shirt and start pulling. “Nothing, really.” Shaking my head, I turn away, stripping off the fabric.
I give him my back to avoid knowing if he’s watching, then push off my shorts.
The two-piece underneath was a lovely decision for the summer heat. But even with the fluttery fabric teasing my stomach, I feel so exposed. So seen.
Behind me, silence. Not even breathing from my company. I turn slowly, already dreading what I’ll find.
Abel hasn’t moved. He’s staring—no, devouring me with his eyes.
My heart lurches into my throat at the hunger written across his face.
His lips part slightly, like he’s forgotten to breathe, and his pupils have blown so wide his green eyes look almost black.
There’s no mistaking it for anything else.
That look is pure hunger, a sensation I’ve never had pointed in my direction before.
It’s unreal, but at the same time, addicting. Suddenly, I don’t want him to look away. I want him to close the space between us and do something about the soldering heat swirling around in my gut.
As if catching himself, he spins on his heel, tearing that heavy gaze away.
I must not look that bad. Though maybe I imagined it. Yeah. That has to be it.
While he fiddles with his pack to pull out water to rehydrate, I do the same. But the fresh memory of his expression burns behind my eyes. And between my thighs, a steady pulse is still going at it, one I can’t ignore.
I hunt down my sunscreen, knowing I’ve sweated through my first layer. Once I’m covered, I’ll cool off in the water. It’s a good plan.
Spreading cream across my chest, belly, and thighs, I’m secretly jealous that Abel doesn’t bother. Living up here, he must have built immunity to the sun. Unlike me, my cheeks already sting pink, and without protection, I’ll spend this trip looking like a lobster.
But there’s one spot I can’t reach. I turn toward him, heart hammering. “Without making it weird, could you…” I gesture to my back.
He looks between the sunscreen and where I’m pointing, almost startled. For a breathless moment, I consider brushing it off and attempting the impossible twist. Then he steps forward, large palm outstretched.
The moment I drop the tube into his hand, I’m already imagining his fingers on my skin. That pulse between my thighs throbs harder. Look at me trying to chase down trouble.
My hair’s already tied back, but a few strands are tickling the base of my neck. Most are out of his way. When I have to raise the fluttery fabric to expose my lower back, his palms make contact, and I have to fight not to jerk—not from the cold, but from the heatwave that shoots through me.
“I appreciate this, thank you. Awkward angles and all that, you know?” I’m chattering nervously, but it’s better than sighing as his hands drift lower.
He grunts, barely responsive, but his touch lingers, and I lean into it.
The first time I’ve ever let a man touch me like this, and it’s so limited. Deep down, disappointment aches—I want him elsewhere. I want it so bad it hurts.
“Lift your arms for me, Tatum.”
I obey, and his fingers slide against my ribs. Instead of tickling, a different sound escapes me—not quite a moan, but a satisfied sigh that borders on something more.
He pauses, hearing it. Then, he does it again on purpose to see if the same outcome occurs. It does.
A soft groan fills the air. I can’t tell which of us made it.
“Did you get your stomach?” His voice has dropped, gone thick and low in that way that makes my knees weak.
I did. But I shake my head anyway because at this point, I feel like I’m gone. So gone for this man’s touch.
He doesn’t question the lie. His hands spread across my stomach, and he steps closer until only a breath of space remains between us. Suddenly, I’m not self-conscious about what’s beneath this top. All I can focus on is where his fingers travel and the trail of heat they leave behind.
Abel is thorough—covering every inch of my top half, then going over the same spots again. I don’t think he even has cream left on his palms.
When his hands slow, signaling the end, I lift my top just slightly—just enough to reveal an inch more skin—the start of my breasts, the uncovered valley between them.
“Tatum…” The way he says my name makes me lean back against him. If he weren’t built like a wall, my legs would have given out by now. “You’re sure?”
I nod once, afraid my voice will crack.
He exhales shakily against my throat, his breath hot and uneven. “Let me see, then. I don’t want to miss anything.”
My heart pounds. He’s on board. He’s giving orders. One I stumble to follow.
With only one thing on my mind, I pull my top up enough to free my breasts. They don’t remain bare for long—Abel cups them immediately, his palms like a man-made bra. He’s not rubbing or squeezing, just testing their weight, his touch reverent. Worshipful.
I wish I could see his face, read his thoughts. Instead, I look out at the water, and the combination—this breathtaking view, being touched like this—is perfect. For once, there’s no room for worry about my situation or the unknown future. There’s only Abel and everything I want him to do to me.
“Fuck, look at you.” His beard tickles my throat as his eyes roam my chest. Another curse follows, disbelief thick in his voice. I understand—I’m feeling it too.
Anyone could come across us and call us out. If a hiker appeared, I don’t know if I’d feel embarrassed or furious at the interruption. But no one’s here. It’s only us.
“Abel…” Whispering his name, I arch against him as he squeezes gently.
Against my throat, his breathing is ragged and heavy—like he’s the one being touched.
His thumbs stroke my skin, then his fingers graze my nipples. They’re peaking and aching, and when he rolls them between his fingertips, pleasure jolts straight through me.
The moan that leaves my lips crashes into the groan that tears through him.
I arch harder and feel it—his hardness pressing against the curve of my ass.
We’re both aching right now. Maybe it’s wrong, impulsive, but I want more. I want him to nudge my feet apart, shove his hand between my legs, push my bottoms aside, and discover what this is doing to me. I’m soaking. Desperate from sensations that I don’t even know how to address myself.
“Abel… I—”
A bird squawks overhead—a screaming sound that ruins everything.
We jerk apart, panting heavily. Heat consumes every inch of me as my heart crashes wildly against my ribs. I can still feel the ghost of his touch, the weight of his hands, the hardness of him against me.
When I dare to glance at him, his chest is heaving, his jaw tight. And in his eyes—before he looks away again—that hunger is still there. Burning hot enough that I don’t know how nothing catches fire beneath his gaze.
Neither of us speaks. Neither of us moves toward the water.
We just stand there, breathing hard, pretending we don’t both want to pick up right where we left off.
He’s the one with the answer to our problem when he spins around to face the water. “Join me when you’re ready.”
And just like that, I’m left watching him stomp toward the water before plunging himself deep, leaving me standing here hot and really freaking horny.
Maybe this is for the better. An ounce of falling off the edge could’ve made everything fall apart. My vacation could’ve turned really awkward—or totally awesome—and I wouldn’t know where I would’ve ended up.
Telling myself to stop lusting after a man I’m only going to know for a few more days at most, I make the smart decision to enter the water far away from him. Far enough that I can cool down and reset.
Surely, this had to be a heat-of-the-moment kind of thing. Really, what’s the chance of it happening again? Especially after that hit of rejection.
The smartest thing I can do is stay far away from that walking form of temptation before I find myself in a position I don’t want to leave. Far… far away.