Timber Read online

  “First of all, you need to get comfortable with the idea of sleeping here tonight, because you are.”

  I watch her look around the cabin again, her eyes landing on the two chairs next to the fire, on the table set for one. Her eyes wander to the ladder leading to the one-bed loft.

  “And what else?” she asks. “What else do I need?”

  “You need to calm the fuck down.”

  Her lips part in a smile, and—fuck me now—her face lights up this room.

  “Why are you smiling?” I ask, realizing this woman is the opposite of the women from my past who were greedy and gluttonous, just like me. This woman is a goddamned angel.

  “Today my motto was Keep Calm and Carry On,” she says. “And then my car got stuck and I prayed for a miracle. I saw the smoke from your chimney, and it was like you were my savior. And now you just said my motto … albeit a bit more garishly … but my motto nonetheless. Calm the Eff Down. I can do that.”

  “What else can you do?” I ask, knowing exactly what I want her to do. I’ve been in the forest for two months, and I’m ready to fuck. I want her to spread her legs and I want to get her wet with my hard wood.

  But she doesn't show me her pussy. Yet. Instead she sticks out her hand and says, “I can introduce myself. I'm Harper. And I'm so happy to have found you.”

  HARPER

  The moment I set foot in the cabin I feel like my prayers have been answered. I know, it might be a little dramatic. But the entire time I stumbled through the snow to get to this cabin I prayed that it would be safe, and warm and not, like, the cabin of an axe murderer.

  Sure, this man appears a bit intense. His flannel is unbuttoned, revealing a chest covered in tattoos, and he’s strong and built like a man made for the outdoors. Broad shoulders and big hands.

  And when he turned to bolt the front door shut, I couldn't help but sigh internally at the sight of his perfect rear in those worn jeans. Even though I know it’s wrong to lust after a man.

  But I'm not scared of him, or this place. He has furniture where it belongs, and everything in his cabin appears clean. Not at all like him.

  He looks dirty—not, like, needs to take a shower dirty, but dirty like the men my father warned me about. Dirty like a man who knows his way around a woman.

  Not anything like Luke. I admit, every time Luke touched me with his clammy hands, I was slightly repelled about the idea of our impending wedding night.

  I always felt bad for thinking it, but every time I imagined being carried across the threshold and laid upon my wedding bed, it broke my heart a little. I couldn't help but feel let down, to have saved myself for marriage to a man like Luke.

  A man who didn't even know how to use his tongue to kiss me.

  One look at this mountain man, and I can tell he knows exactly what to do with his body, where to put his tongue. He stands with arms crossed, sizing me up. I like the way it makes me feel when he looks at me.

  Warm, all over. Tingling. Awake.

  He uses words more crass than any man I've ever spoken with. I'm never around rough and tumble men. Just the men in my father's congregation.

  Standing in this cabin, I feel a long way from church.

  I'm sure this man thinks I'm an absolute fool. Showing up here, like I need rescuing.

  But I do. I need to be saved.

  Chapter 3

  JAX

  I know a horny woman when I see her. Fuck, I've seen a lot of them.

  And sure, Harper is fresh, a woman who’s never been tapped. Everything about her drips with innocence—but her eyes are dripping with desire as she looks me over.

  I feel the same fucking way as I rake my eyes across her body.

  “My name is Jax,” I tell her.

  “Just Jax?” she asks.

  “Jax as in Jaxon. But nobody calls me that,” I say.

  “Okay, Jax….” She bites her lip as if she doesn't know what to do next.

  “If you give me your keys, I'll hike to your car and get you your shit for tonight.”

  “And leave me here?” she asks, panic written over her face.

  “Shit, woman, what's your problem? You running from someone?” I cock a brow at her, trying to figure her out.

  “Not someone,” she says defensively. “But maybe something. My fiancé just left me … so yeah, I'm a bit vulnerable at the moment.”

  “Honey, don't you know you shouldn't tell strange men in the woods that you're vulnerable?”

  “Why not?” she asks. Her eyes dance with light and I can instantly tell that, while she may be a sheltered girl, she's a playful one. That will be handy to remember when I fuck her tonight.

  And it's gonna be wild. I've been alone in this cabin for long enough.

  She peers down at her chest, looks up at me with her pale blue eyes, and then asks, “Why wouldn't I want you to know that I am vulnerable?”

  Oh, fuck me, woman. I feel my thick cock get nice and hard when she opens her pouty little mouth and speaks with innuendo. I know where I'd like those lips of hers to go. Right around my hard trunk.

  I think she'd like it, too.

  “Your keys,” I say, holding out my hand.

  She gets them from her coat pocket and hands them to me. When she does, I resist the urge to just grab her hand and pull her to me. I want to take her by the waist and throw her over my shoulder and head up the ladder to my loft.

  I can picture tossing her on the bed and spreading those legs and burying my head in what must be a perfect, untouched pussy.

  I have before me a woman who has never been fucked, that much is clear.

  “My stuff is all thrown in, kind of all jumbled together,” she says. “So if you can just grab my tote in the passenger seat that would be great.”

  “Sure thing,” I say, grabbing my coat from the hook by the door.

  “Oh, actually, I need other stuff too. That tote bag is just my toiletries. None of my clothes. I don't know … maybe I should go look for that other stuff? It's all a mess.”

  “Girl, you aren't going back out there in that snow. You can get your clothes tomorrow.”

  “Then what will I wear to bed?” she asks.

  “How about nothing?” I say, pulling open the door. I have to get out of here before my cock explodes. I have so much fucking wood for that woman, the only thing besides her that will chop it down is the frigid cold.

  I have to find a way to get her to warm me back up before the night is through.

  I thought being a lone mountain man was enough, but maybe I was wrong.

  HARPER

  Oh, my heart. I've never felt the space between my thighs tingle in such delight. A wetness seeps into my panties as Jax walks out of the cabin, into the snow-covered woods, for me.

  I need to splash cool water all over myself. I need that ache in my belly to be taken care of.

  Maybe I'm just hungry.

  I look over at the refrigerator in the corner, and know in an instant this craving has nothing to do with wanting to be fed.

  It was to do with wanting someone to eat me.

  Oh my gosh. I clamp my hand over my mouth, shocked at my own vulgar thoughts.

  But I know it isn't the first time I've thought this way.

  So many times I've asked God for forgiveness over wanting the things I shouldn't. So many nights I've laid in bed, imagining a strong, rugged man running his hands over me. Wanting to put my hands down there, wanting to rub my hands over my nipples, as I imagined a man doing the same thing to me.

  But I've always refrained, practiced self-control. Repented for having such forbidden ideas about men and their parts.

  Not that I've ever actually seen a man's parts. I've never seen a man naked, never seen a cock—a word I used in my own head after hearing rebellious girls at church camp talk about having sex and using the word cock in their descriptions.

  I love the sound of the word. Cock implies something hard and dirty. It offers a fullness that a word like penis never c
ould. Those girls had referred to their vaginas the same way, calling them pussies.

  While I've never spoken either word aloud, I’ve imagined saying them. Of course, I'd never have been able to talk to Luke that way. He always spoke about God's word. Which, who knows if he meant any of it.

  He ran off on me.

  Gosh, I do not want to think about Luke right now.

  I want to think about Jax.

  Which I know is completely inappropriate.

  I put my coat on one of the hooks by the door and yank off my heavy boots as gracefully as I can. Which is to say, not very.

  When Jax walks back into the cabin, my rear end is probably the first thing he sees, as I'm bent over trying to tug off one of my boots.

  “Need help?” he asks.

  “Ugh. Pathetic, right?”

  “Not pathetic. These kind of shoes are motherfuckers.”

  When I grimace, he asks, “What, you don't like a man who swears?”

  “I just haven't been around many is all.”

  “What, your daddy a preacher or something?”

  My face feels flushed and, when I shrug, Jax laughs.

  “Fuck. Shit, I didn't know. No wonder you're acting like a lost puppy. You've probably never been off your leash.”

  As he says that his wolfhound walks over to him and nuzzles his leg.

  “It wasn't a leash.” I smile and shrug again. “More like a harness.”

  Jax gives a bigger laugh this time, setting down my bag and taking off his coat. Revealing that rock hard chest again.

  “But they let you take off the harness to come to the woods in the dead of winter, alone?”

  “It was necessary. And it's not my parents who kept me tied up so much as my fiancé. Ex-fiance. My parents are decent, and knew a little time on my own was what I needed. I'm not a child; I'm a grown woman. They know I can take care of myself.”

  “Which is why you’re in my cabin without any clothes to wear.”

  “Hey,” I say, finally able to yank my boot off in a huff. “That wasn't intentional.”

  “Still, sometimes we make choices subconsciously because they’re what we really want.”

  Every time he speaks, my body warms up a bit more. I've already taken off my boots and coat, but if he keeps this up, I think I'll be down to my panties in no time.

  “I don't subconsciously want to be here without any clothing.”

  Jax runs his hand over his thick beard and smirks.

  “Maybe it isn't so subconscious. Maybe it’s exactly what you wanted to do.”

  “You saying you know what I want?” I ask, standing a few feet in front of him.

  “I think I know exactly what you want.”

  I toss him a flippant smile. “Then I'm sure a gentleman like yourself knows I'm starving.”

  “Oh, honey, I'm no gentleman.” He walks toward the kitchen and I trail after him.

  “What are you then, Jax?” I ask as he lifts the lid off a Dutch oven, revealing a roast with potatoes and carrots. The whole cabin smells like rosemary and fresh pepper. Divine.

  “I'm a bad boy—one you couldn't handle if you tried.”

  “You don't know what I can handle. I just met you about ten minutes ago.”

  “Maybe you're right. I didn't scare you off with my cursing or my tattoos or my axe.” His eyes dart over the fire and land on the polished tool.

  “You don't scare me at all.”

  Jax sets the lid back on the pan.

  “Maybe you don't want to eat right now?” he asks, his eyebrows raised.

  My throat tightens. Oh dear, this is getting a little too real, too fast. I don't know what complete indecency has taken hold of me, but I need to backtrack, ASAP. I need to get to neutral, God-fearing territory. I need to eat my dinner and say thank you and go to bed.

  That. Is. All.

  I watch as Jax tugs off his flannel altogether, revealing tattoos covering his arms, too. I want to inch toward him, examine each piece of art—but I know I can't. Actually, I could; I just don't trust myself.

  I don't trust myself not to take his big hand and push it down the front of my pants.

  Oh my goodness!

  I must really be having a nervous breakdown about Luke leaving me.

  I've never entertained the idea of having sex before marriage vows, and here I am wanting Jax, a perfect stranger, to undo me.

  “It really is hot in here,” Jax says, walking to the fire and dropping another log on the already burning ones. “If you get hot, honey, just take off another layer.”

  “I don't have anything under my sweater,” I say, knowing a thin lace bra is the only thing between this sweater and my bare skin.

  “No worries. I know it can get real hot in here, though.” He tries to hide a smile, but he does a poor job of it. He unhooks his belt buckles, and rips the belt from the loops, then tosses it to the floor. It skitters across the wooden floorboards.

  I drop my jaw, realizing his game. He’s gonna create a sweat lodge in here, forcing me to take everything off.

  I turn back to the food and lift the lid.

  “Mmmm, smells good. I'm gonna eat.”

  Jax saunters over to me, his body right behind mine, and he leans over my shoulder, looking at the roast. A hardness presses against my bottom and I have to force myself to step forward, step away from him.

  What I really want, what my body impulsively desires, is to arch myself right into him. The hardness that I feel press against me drenches my panties.

  I've never experienced so much wetness down there, and it forces me to clench the lips of my pussy tight, as if I am scolding myself for such ideas.

  But as I clench the lips of my pussy, it only makes the desire grow. This is all so new for me, these mounting sensations. I’ve never had them once with Luke. Never had them in my life.

  Now I feel like I am on fire.

  Just like those logs burning in the fireplace Jax has stoked.

  Instead of pushing himself back into me though, he backs off and reaches around me for two plates.

  “Have a seat,” he tells me, as he places the plates on the table. I do as I am told.

  He brings the pot to the table and scoops some vegetables onto our plates, and cuts a few slices of the roast for us as well.

  Before he sits down, he grabs two pint glasses from the freezer and then pulls the tap on a second, smaller fridge. He fills each with frothy, amber beer.

  Bare chested, his jeans slung low on his hips, hinting at what is below, he hands me a glass.

  I take it nervously.

  “Cheers,” he says, clinking his glass to mine.

  “Cheers,” I say, raising it ever so slightly but not taking a sip.

  He takes a long swig, and eyes me warily when I don't follow suit.

  “It's the good stuff, I swear,” he says. “I made it myself.”

  “I believe you, it's just … I've never had a drink before.”

  “You've gotta be shitting me,” he scoffs. “Wait, let me guess. It's against your fucking religion?”

  “Yes,” I say defensive. “My family isn't super uptight or anything like that, but we don't drink alcohol. And I don't really mind. I've never felt the desire to go against my father's wishes. Or even been in a situation where it was offered.”

  Jax sets down his glass, nearly empty.

  “How old are you?” he asks.

  “Twenty-one, why?”

  “Just checking. I've never met a woman who hasn't been to a bar.”

  “Why would I ever go to a bar?” I ask, picking up my fork and spearing a potato.

  “To meet a man like me.”

  “Then why are you alone in a cabin in the woods and not in some swanky bar in the city, with other hipsters, drinking fancy beer?”

  “I'm not a hipster,” Jax says, but his artisan beer and beard and flannel say otherwise. When I laugh, he fake-glares at me. “That is a low blow, Harp.”

  “Already with the nicknames, Ja
xon?”

  He smiles at this, and it warms me up again. Not the heating up between the legs warmth—something comforting and safe.

  “To answer your question, I don't go to bars because this is my home now. I used to live in the city, but I'm done with that scene.”

  “Why?” I ask. “What in the world could make a man like you decide to come out here?”

  His eyes drop to his plate, and I can see that he isn't ready to open up to me.

  Not like that.

  But oh, my heart, I'm ready to open up to him.

  I know it’s wrong, but as he looks down at his plate, all soulful and full of a past I know nothing about … I can't help but wonder if maybe tonight isn't about either the past or the future.

  Maybe it is about being present, waking up tomorrow a new person.

  Maybe I can Keep Calm and Carry On, by letting go of the one thing I've held so tightly to.

  My virginity.

  Chapter 4

  JAX

  Something has shifted in the room when I look back up, and into Harper's eyes.

  I can tell her mind is working in overdrive.

  I don't want her to think at all.

  We finish our food in silence. But she's mostly pushing the food around her plate and then looking at me, blushing, and then looking away.

  “What the hell is going on, woman?” I ask her, hoping her answer will be what I want it to be.

  She sighs, then drops her fork.

  “It's just getting so hot in here,” she says, breathlessly. “I think you were right. Maybe I should take off some layers.”

  “I thought you said you didn't have any layers,” I answer smugly.

  “I was wrong. I have one layer under my sweater. I have on my bra.” She swallows, looks down at her chest, as if this is the dirtiest thought she's ever had in her whole damn life.

  Fuck, maybe it is.

  And maybe the things I want to do with her are the dirtiest things I've ever desired.

  And that is saying one hell of a lot.

  “Well, do what you need to do, honey,” I say, pushing away from the table, my legs kicked open, my thumbs hanging on the loops of my pants.