Chapter 19
Chapter nineteen
Roman
“Great form, Supernova,” I mutter to myself as I press through my heels and lift my ass higher, a stretch burning in my calf muscles. I try to focus on my breathing – measured breaths in and out – as I drop my head.
There’s a pleasant ache in my ass from my morning wake-up call and my mind flits back to how amazing that was. Laying there, at Garrett’s mercy. His puppet to play with as he wished. The way he’d wrung pleasure from my body while I was barely awake.
And great. Now I’m stuck in downward dog with a half chub.
I breathe out and push the pleasant thoughts out of my mind, ignoring the sky high levels of anticipation coursing through my blood.
I am ever so not patiently waiting for Garrett to finish preparing lunch so that he can hunt me down, bring me to my knees and do wonderful, wicked things with my body.
Concentrating on my breathing again, I stretch in my current position then flow into upward cat – or is it upward cow?
I can’t remember exactly what Liam’s girlfriend, Sophie, called it when she dragged me along to her yoga class – and press my knees to the towel beneath me, then lift my head and let my belly drop.
I lose track of my breaths when the wind howls; the trees tapping a beat on the side of the cottage.
It’s cold out today, and though it’s no longer snowing, there’s a blanket of it covering the ground outside.
Garrett has already had second thoughts about his Christmas wish.
His worry about me getting ill threatening to ruin our jaunt in the woods.
But fuck that if he thinks a little cold is going to have me missing out on him hunting me down in the woods and fucking me senseless.
Not a fucking chance. And in any case, I read once that it’s a myth that you can catch a cold by being cold, so his point is moot.
To please him, though, I have agreed to wear my coat and keep my beanie on. We’ve also agreed to end our chase on the heated decking rather than in the melting snow, but Garrett is back on board and I cannot fucking wait.
Rounding my spine, I change position and flow back into downward dog. My head drops, looking backward through my stretched legs, my eyes landing on the man who makes my heart race more than any stunt or dare ever has.
Garrett leans against the doorframe, his arms folded and the sleeves of his flannel shirt rolled up.
“What are you doing there, trouble?” he asks, tipping his head to the side.
“Stretching. Getting ready.” I wiggle my butt and make a show of pressing up higher onto my toes. I have absolutely no idea if I’m doing this right, but I stick with it, anyway. Yoga, like cooking, is something I am adding to the ‘fake it till you make it’ pile.
Garrett laughs. “You think a few stretches are going to help you outrun me?”
I drop to my knees – there is nothing practised about the way I slump down – spinning around so I’m facing him. Despite my earlier position, I can confidently say, when Garrett shoots me a sly grin, that all my blood did not run to my head, choosing instead to settle south of my body.
Stretching my legs in front of me, I grab the tips of my socked toes and lean forward.
“I don’t need to outrun you. I want to get caught, but –” I beam at him. “I’m going to make you work for it.”
My stretching done, I jump to my feet in one swift move, bound forward and wrap my arms around Garrett’s neck. He uncrosses his arms and grabs my hips.
“Lunch sorted?” I ask. I did offer to help – I love the way he takes care of me, but I’m not a total freeloader – but Garrett claimed I was far too distracting and chaotic in the kitchen, so I left him to it.
“It is. Gammon’s in the pot. It’ll cook very –” He slides a hand under my shirt and toys with the waistband of my leggings. “Very.” His big, warm hand dips beneath the fabric until he’s kneading the globe of my ass. “Slowly.”
“Perfect,” I rasp, nuzzling the side of his face with my own, loving the rasp of his beard scratching the freshly shaved skin of my cheek.
Pushing out of Garrett’s hold, I say, “I’m going to get ready. I’ll see you later, Mr Lumberjack.” With a quick kiss, I spin on my heels and saunter into the bedroom to prepare to give Garrett the sexiest Christmas present he’s ever received.
“Where are you, troublemaker?” Garrett’s voice booms through the trees. A bird flutters overhead, darting between the branches of the tall pines surrounding me. I sneak around a thick trunk and lean my head back, looking to the side to see if I can spot him.
My chest rises and falls in quick succession, my lungs working overtime to keep up with the exertion of running over uneven ground in the freezing cold.
“You can’t hide for long. I will find you.” His voice is louder, closer now than it’s been in the past ten minutes. Despite the chill in the air, I’m warm. A mixture of adrenalin, arousal and a spot of fear, pooling together to keep my temperature rising.
A branch snaps to my right and I bolt, heading for a dense brush of shrubs further from the cottage.
My foot catches on a log hidden beneath the mushy snow and it’s enough to slow me down, but I don’t fall.
Straightening up, I chance a glance behind me and glimpse Garrett, dressed in his green flannel and a red wooly hat.
He’s taking large steps, his posture both calm and menacing at the same time.
He’s a predator – one that is confident their prey is already in their trap.
“Fuck,” I mutter, my head swivelling from left to right, seeking a place to hide.
It’s gloomy, this deep in the woods, very little sunlight breaks through the canopy, but not dark enough to make it treacherous.
The gloom adds to the overall feeling – my mind picking moments to forget that I’m not really being hunted, and sending fresh waves of fear through me.
Garrett insisted we have a safe word, and though I am not intending to use it, I appreciate his concern. I am a little afraid of the woods and what – other than the hunky man chasing me – I could encounter out here.
Dashing to my right, heading back towards the cottage, I get onto my knees, the cold seeping into my leggings, and crawl between an evergreen bush and some other spindly plants and take a moment to catch my breath and listen for movement.
Silence.
I can’t decide if that’s a good thing or not. Either Garrett is lying in wait, or he’s changed direction and headed away from me.
I count to ten in my head, and when I hear no movement or anything I’d count as a human noise, I crawl out, stand and brush the sludge from my knees. My coat is zipped up, and I unzip it, feeling over hot in my layers.
There’s an opening ahead, a part of the path that leads from the cottage to the village, and on the other side another thick patch of pines. Behind that is the back of the house and the decking area.
I press forward, moving away from the bushes, and come to a screeching halt when Garrett steps around the evergreen and directly into my path.
“Got you, little deer,” he says, his hand shooting out to grab my coat.
He gets a grip on the fabric and I spin, shrugging my arm out and shaking the coat off as quickly as I can.
“Sneaky, shit,” he grumbles when I bolt away, leaving him holding my coat.
“I’m going to fuck you so hard when I get my hands on you,” he shouts, his footsteps picking up speed behind me.
I’m winded. My legs are aching and there’s a thin sheen of sweat between my skin and my white henley, but I’m not giving in. If Garrett wants this – wants me – he’s going to have to catch me. For real. Supernova never quits, and he sure isn’t starting now.
That thought has just left my mind when a hard body crashes into my back, sending me to the ground, my knees and hands landing in the snow. Before I can react, a strong arm wraps around my stomach and hauls me up.
Garrett’s lips graze a line of fire from my neck to my ear while he holds me hostage against his broad chest.
“Looks like I caught myself a treat,” he says, his words and his warm breath sending a shiver down my spine. Fuck, he’s good at the role play part of this.
“Let me go,” I yell, playing along and wiggling against him.
“No can do. You’re trespassing on private property.”
In a move I don’t see coming, Garrett spins me around and hoists me up, throwing me over his shoulder.
He secures me against him with a hand to the back of my thigh.
I smack his back, repeating my plea for him to let me go.
My cock growing thicker as he slaps my ass and tells me to shut the fuck up.
“You’re a noisy one,” he grumbles, his boots squelching through melting snow and over broken branches. “But don’t worry, I’ve a way to keep you quiet.”
“I’m not a toy. You can’t claim me as your own. I have rights!”
I put on a show for the camera most days of the week, but this is way more fun. I had no idea role play would be on my kink list, but add it to the whole primal play thing and yep…totally my new favourite.
“I can, and I will. Just you wait, little deer,” Garrett says, his hand stroking into my inner thigh as he carries me to the back of the cottage.
By the time we reach the covered deck, the sky has darkened, clouds rolled in to cover the last remaining daylight.
The heater nearest the hot tub casts an orange glow over the space.
Garrett sets me on my feet and I shiver, both from the lack of warmth now that his body is not pressed to mine, and from the feral glint in his eyes.
His gaze traces a path from my flushed, burning cheeks down my white skin-tight t-shirt, which no doubt shows off my peaked nipples, then down to the obvious bulge in my black leggings.
Shuffling on my feet, I bite my bottom lip, then do the only thing I can think to do in the moment.
I run.