Colorado, I’d become addicted to my weekend hikes. I was on my own since Saoirse was currently skydiving with a new friend she met in a coffee shop last week, but I didn’t mind.
I’d spent the last few hours hiking through meadows and then a canyon. The sun was brighter here, so when I came to a thick copse of trees after four miles, I breathed a sigh of relief.
Okay, I panted.
In my defense, the air was thinner and the trail was on an incline.
Who was I defending myself to? I was out here panting and sweating and having the time of my life. Each time I pushed myself, I took ownership of my body.
I remembered why I’d loved my thick thighs and soft stomach before Patrick made me believe there was something wrong with me.
These thighs carried me over rocks and hills.
My stomach was round, but my core was solid.
I was solid.
My body might not have been everyone’s ideal, but it belonged to me. If I didn’t love it, who would?
There was more to love than hate.
No one got to tell me how to feel about myself.
Those were the things I told myself on a continuous loop, and I was doing so much better than I had been when I’d first arrived. But I sometimes faltered. Memories of the GIF and Patrick’s nickname liked to swing back and flatten the progress I made on good days.
The point was I was getting there. It would take time, but I had time.
I walked off the trail, following the sound of the nearby creek. When I found it, I sat down on a flattened boulder and stared in awe at the scenery. I couldn’t believe I’d left all this behind.
I’d liked living in Chicago, but this…
There was nothing like it.
I was where I was supposed to be.
I didn’t know how much time had passed. One moment, I was resting beside the creek, and the next thing I knew, I opened my eyes, disoriented. I guessed I’d fallen asleep.
Taking out my phone, I checked the time, surprised to find an hour had passed.
Saoirse had texted me a picture of her in her skydiving gear with the message: “I survived!” I grinned at my brave, crazy friend. She never said no to a challenge and didn’t let fear stop her from having new experiences. It was part of why I loved her.
There was another text from Thomas. Oh, sweet, redheaded Thomas.
Hey! I’d love to see you again this weekend. Text me if you can fit me in.
I sighed.
Jeez.
We’d gone out last night. Music, drinks, his friends. There hadn’t been a huge opportunity to talk since we couldn’t really hear each other. I’d had fun, though. The band had been outrageous, and the vibe had been pretty chill.
Until he held my hand. I hadn’t been able to stop noticing how soft his was.
Like sinking into warm butter.
I’d let him kiss me when he took me home, and it had been nice. His hug had been even nicer. I wasn’t sure I could picture myself in bed with him, though.
Still, he was a nice guy. A good guy. I’d give him one more try. If I still wasn’t feeling it, I’d let him down easy. I’d never be the girl to drag things out just to have someone in my life.
I sat up, taking a deep pull from my water bottle. It was time to start heading back. I had a long walk ahead of me.
Climbing to my feet, I stretched my arms over my head. That nap had been exactly what I’d needed.
I leaned down to grab my backpack, but a band of iron caught me before I could grab it. No, not iron. Strong, unyielding arms wrapped around my shoulders from behind and yanked me backward into something hard. Alarm bells rang in my ears, but before I could scream, a big hand covered my mouth.
“Elise,” a low voice gritted in my ear. “Stop. Look in front of you. One o’clock.”
My brain raced to catch up. It was Weston holding me, not some crazed rapist or cannibal from the hills. His tall, lean body pressed into mine, crushing my backside against him.
“Are you stalking me?” I mumbled from behind his hand. “Let go of me!”
He gave me a shake. “Look in front of you, baby. Stay calm.”
He turned my head slightly to the right, and though everything inside me wanted to ignore his orders, I focused on the spot.
And nearly pissed my pants.
No more than twenty feet away stood a mountain lion. Stock-still, it watched us both, standing in the exact path I would have taken had Weston not stopped me.
My muscles locked up the very second I understood the situation. Mountain lions didn’t normally come out at this time of day. If they did, and they saw a human, they’d usually run and hide.
This one wasn’t hiding.
“Don’t look away,” Weston said firmly, raising his voice. “Keep your eyes on that cat, baby. You’re going to be fine. We’re going to stay big, make some noise, and scare that kitten away.”
I whimpered against his hand. My heart thundered in my ears. What was happening? How could this be real?
“Come on, Elise.” He took one of my hands and raised it up so our arms were straight out to the side. “Make yourself big and scary. Let’s be loud.”
He could be loud. I couldn’t do anything but suck in strawfuls of oxygen and try not to pass out.
Weston moved our arms around and talked to the mountain lion while I trembled helplessly.
“Get the fuck out of here, cat, or I’m going to make a rug out of you,” he boomed. “You’ll look nice at my front door. I’ll wipe my boots on you every fucking day.”
The mountain lion licked its lips.
“Yeah, you don’t like that idea? Then run along now, kitty. We know you’re big and bad, we get it. But we’re bigger and badder, you fuck.”
Head tilt.
What did that mean?
Oh god.
“You’re not even a real lion. Nobody’s scared of you. You’re just an overgrown house cat. Did you lose your ball of yarn? Go cry to the other kitties about it and leave us the fuck alone!”
Weston kept on, threatening the dangerous animal while it calmly stared back at him, unfazed by the madman in its forest.
Sweat pricked my forehead. My heart thrashed, more wild than the murderous kitty. My knees were so weak, I could barely stand. But Weston held me up. His arm kept me secure against his chest, lending me the smallest, barest sense of safety.
Weston continued yelling about the violent plans he had for the mountain lion while stroking my cheek with unimaginable gentleness.
We were going to die a horrible, painful death. Every second that passed and the mountain lion remained unbothered, the end crawled closer.
The mountain lion took a step.
My breath caught.
Weston’s arm tightened.
Another step.
Then another.
But not toward us.
Slowly, lazily, it slinked across our path, its ears twitching as it listened to us. It disappeared into the trees, but I didn’t feel any relief.
“We need to go,” Weston ordered. “Start walking, baby.”
“It could be out there,” I whispered.
“It could. But we can’t stay here. We need to start walking.”
He had a point. Staying here wasn’t a good idea. We were probably in the mountain lion’s turf or something.
Somehow, I got my feet to work. I trudged forward, on high alert, my head whipping back and forth, searching for the mountain lion. How was this real? This couldn’t be real.
Weston stayed behind me, holding my shoulders. He kept talking to me, making noise. I knew I should have been helping, making us louder, but that wasn’t happening. Fear had clogged my throat.
He squeezed my shoulders. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you, Elise. You’re safe with me. All you have to do is keep walking. Just keep walking. I’ve got you.”
In the recesses of my mind, I remembered reading that mountain lions liked to attack from behind. They usually went for the back of their prey’s neck. That was why Weston was staying behind me and not leading me out. He was protecting me, putting himself between me and potential danger.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“Don’t thank me now. You’re in deep trouble when we get out of here. And we will be getting out of here, Elise.”
Suddenly, I wished for the mountain lion to reappear. A nice, deep puncture wound was preferable to a lecture from Weston on how stupid I’d been to come out here on my own.
When we made it out of the trees and into the canyon, I should have felt safer, but I couldn’t bring myself to calm down. My body was on high alert, fight or flight activated.
For miles, Weston held on to me. He talked to me, not just about the mountain lion, but about the scenery, his favorite spots to camp, random tidbits about Andes, anything and everything.
Once we reached the meadows, he made me stop to drink water and tugged my hat down on my head. The sun had moved across the sky, slowly dipping at the horizon. Soon, it would be dusk. We needed to be out of here.
“We should keep going.”
Weston stepped forward and cupped my face in his big, rough hands. “We will. I need you to catch your breath, though. Calm, baby. Everything is all right.”
I turned my face to the side, breaking his hold. “I’ll calm down when we’re in the parking lot.”
Palming the top of my head, he searched my sweaty, overheated face. For the first time ever, I didn’t care how I looked to him.
“Then let’s get going.” He grabbed my hand, keeping a firm hold, and started off down the trail again, pulling me with him.
Eventually, purpose took over, moving my legs faster. I stayed at his side, and we were able to pick up our pace. Dusk was coming, but we would beat it. We were going to get out of here.
The parking lot was ahead. A few cars were left, including Weston’s, right beside my SUV.
“Almost there, baby. Almost there.”
It was then I noticed the tremor in his hand. My eyes flicked to the side of his face. His jaw was clenched tight, the muscles flexing over and over.
“Weston—”
“Not now,” he gritted.
As soon as our feet hit the gravel parking lot, Weston tugged me toward my vehicle.
“Keys, Elise.”
“They’re in my backpack.”
I’d intended to swing my backpack around to dig them out, but Weston was faster, unzipping the front pocket before I could move. Metal clinked, then he had them in his grasp, using the remote to unlock my doors. He opened the back seat, tossed my backpack in, and stuck my keys in his pocket.
His arms folded across his chest. He stared at me without speaking, moving toward me until my back hit the driver’s side door.
Leaning forward, he braced a hand on the glass beside my head. “What the fuck were you thinking? If I hadn’t been there—” He broke off, his eyes slamming shut.
“I know, I know. I don’t know what would have happened.” I raised my shaking hands to his heaving chest. “Thank you for being there.”
His eyes flashed open and zeroed in on me. “I’ve never been more pissed off at you.”
“I wish you weren’t.” My fingers balled his T-shirt in a tight grip. “Please, Weston, don’t be mad at me.”
He bent down, his nose almost brushing mine. “I’m so fucking angry, Elise. You have no idea what I want to do with you right now.”
I inhaled. His hot breath hit my lips. A wild, frantic current flowed in the narrow space between us. Adrenaline coursed through my bloodstream. My mind scrambled.
Then he was on me, or I was on him. There was no telling who moved first. We collided, our lips suctioning to one another, his tongue delving into my mouth. Fingers threaded through my hair, tugging my head back. He kissed me hard, violent, and I clawed at him.
Shoving up the back of his shirt, I dug my fingers into his bare skin. The muscles alongside his spine were taut and defined, and his skin was slick with perspiration. He grunted into my mouth and pushed me harder into the door.
I sucked on his bottom lip until he tore it away and bit at mine. My knees threatened to buckle, but I had nowhere to go. Weston had me pinned tight. He wasn’t letting me fall.
His hand traveled from my hair to my throat as he ravaged my mouth. I sucked on his tongue and tilted my pelvis toward his, trapping his erection against my stomach.
With a groan, he grabbed my breast, kneading it hard, vicious, then let it go to slip into the V of my shirt and under my sports bra. He took my nipple between his fingers, pinching and rolling it. There was nothing gentle about his touch. He was greedy and angry and taking it out on me.
Without warning, he yanked me forward, walked me to the side, and pushed me into the open back seat. As soon as I was flat on my back, he fell over me, wedging his hips between my parted thighs, his solid weight settling on me.
My shirt was rucked up, sports bra next, and his mouth was on my breasts, taking my nipple between his lips and sucking.
Wet heat surrounded my nipples. My mouth dropped. My lashes fluttered as I threaded my fingers through his sweat-dampened hair. He sucked hard but licked soft. He groaned against my flesh, like just the taste of me was getting him off.
My back arched and hips rose, further wedging his cock against me. He rocked as he sucked, hitting my clit through the thin fabric of my leggings and underwear.
We grappled with each other, exploring skin that had been forbidden. We’d been unleashed, and there was no place off-limits anymore. Our cores were locked together, grinding and seeking heat, friction, more.
My hand ventured down the back of his pants, and I grasped his flexing ass, pressing him into me. Thick and hard as steel, I ached to know what he would feel like sliding into me. Would it hurt?
Hurt so good.
Weston made claiming sucks all over my breasts and chest. Hard enough to surely leave marks behind. And I wanted it.
My heart raced. I was frantic, buzzing, crazed for him. He was just as crazed, touching me, rutting against me, kissing me everywhere.
“Weston,” I murmured. “Please, West.”
“You have to tell me what you need,” he ground out.
“I need you inside me.”
He shoved his face into my throat and dragged his tongue from my collarbone to my earlobe. “Take your pants off, baby, but don’t expect me to be gentle.”
“I don’t want gentle.”
He pulled back enough for me to lift my hips. My thumbs hooked into the waistband of my leggings, my hands shaking from the anticipation of having him inside me for the first time. The sound of his heaving breath spurred me on.
Then our eyes met.
And I froze.
He did too.
Reality snuck between us.
What were we doing? This was Weston. I couldn’t have sex with him in a parking lot. Oh god. I stared back at him in horror. He flinched like he’d been slapped.
Somewhere behind him, voices carried through the early evening air.
With that very real reminder we were in public and nowhere near alone, we both sprang into action. Weston flew off me and out of the back seat. I sat up, yanking my shirt over my breasts and covering my mouth with my hand. What had I done?
This wasn’t me. I didn’t make impetuous decisions or lose control. I thought things through before I acted. If I’d thought, even for a second, about the consequences of making out with my boss, who happened to be my brother’s best friend, my lips never would have touched his.
When I finally climbed out of the back seat, Weston was pacing at the back of my SUV, his hands clasped on top of his head.
I wished I could have driven off without saying anything, but since he was behind my car and still had my keys, I had no choice.
“I’m going to go.”
He turned, facing me. Our gazes clashed, and I wanted to cower away from him.
“You can’t do anything like this again.” His hands were on his hips. “Do you have any idea how crazy you make me? You can’t be out here by yourself. You were asleep. Anything could have happened to you.”
He flung his arms to the side, pacing back and forth again. He was frustrated with me, but I was frustrated with everything. All I wanted to do was drive away so I could start thinking clearly, and maybe pretend the last fifteen minutes hadn’t happened. It was kind of impossible with Weston’s kiss-swollen lips and hair mussed from my fingers right in my frigging face.
He stopped two feet away from me. “I really fucking hope today illustrated my point. Promise me you won’t do a hike like this alone again.”
My breasts still ached from how hard he’d sucked on them and he was lecturing me. This man was a machine, shutting down his feelings without blinking.
“Your point has been made, I promise.” I swiped my sweaty hands on my stretched-out shirt. “I’d like to go now.”
His eyes narrowed on me, and for a long, drawn-out moment, he didn’t move. Then he held his hand out, my keys in his palm. I snagged them from him, my fingertips grazing his skin. My breath caught, and he glared at me.
“Thanks for not letting me die.”
His glare morphed into a deep scowl. “Go home, Elise.”
That was exactly what I was going to do.
Saoirse blinked at me. “No.”
I nodded, picking up my second glass of wine. “Yes.”
We were on the roof of our building with two bottles of wine and a pile of snacks. I’d just spilled everything that had happened on my hike today.
She shook her head. “Who would have thought being stalked by a mountain lion would be the second most outrageous thing to happen to you today?”
I snorted a laugh. “I can’t believe I made out with Weston. What in the world was I thinking?”
I would have thought I’d dreamed it if not for the hickeys he’d left behind. My breasts were mottled with his marks. Why was that so hot?
“You weren’t. It was one of those ‘oh my god, I almost died, let me jump on this man to reaffirm I’m still alive’ type of thing. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”
I gulped down more wine. This recap required a lot. “But it’s Weston.”
Her nod was solemn. “Yeah. I get it. Anything with Weston always means more.” She piled two pieces of cheese on a cracker. “Well, was it good?”
I rolled my eyes and sank down in my lounger. “It was wild. He kissed like he’d die if he didn’t.”
She sighed, sinking down beside me. “Holy shitake, what’s that like?”
“Like…I don’t know, it took me over. I wasn’t Elise. I was this sensual being who wasn’t thinking about my rolls or if he could see my stretch marks. It was me and him, and nothing else mattered outside of our connection.” I slapped my forehead. “Why did I have to kiss him? Now I have to live the rest of my life knowing kissing like that exists.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You never had that with Patrick?”
Guilt swamped me. The answer was easy to give. I’d loved Patrick. I’d worked hard at our relationship, had given it my all. Our sex life had been hot, and he’d taken care of my needs every single time. But no, those out-of-control moments in the back of my SUV had been hotter than the four years I spent with Patrick combined.
“Never. Not once.”
Her shoulders slumped. “Damn. And Weston’s a no-go, huh?”
My mouth twisted, and damn if my eyes didn’t burn a little. “Even if he and I weren’t impossible, I truly think he got caught up in the moment. I’ve seen the women he dates. They’re nothing like me.”
She waved her cracker at me. “Go fuck yourself, Lise. He’d be lucky to have a woman as hot as you.”
“He’s had women ten times hotter. I promise you, he’s not lacking beautiful company. Have you seen him?”
She gave me an incredulous look. “Have you seen you? Weston is hot, but honestly, honey, you might be hotter. With your tits titting all over the place, that ass, your stunning brown eyes, big puffy lips…come on.”
“I’m a realist, babe. I know I’m attractive.” Saoirse’s eyes flared. Attractive obviously wasn’t good enough for her. “Okay, I’m pretty. But I also know firsthand not everyone is into women with bodies like mine. Look at Patrick.”
“Patrick was hot for you. He was also a dick.”
I sighed. “Yeah, he was both of those things.”
“You said Weston was hard as a rock.”
I took another long pull of my wine. “So hard,” I whispered, flashing back to the feel of him rocking against me.
She snapped her fingers. “So go fuck yourself with the ‘not everyone’s into bodies like mine.’ As far as I know, you’re not planning on gangbanging ‘everyone.’ Weston Aldrich is clearly into your body, honey. Don’t try to talk yourself out of the facts.”
My brow pinched. “I think…I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
“Fine.” She slapped her thighs. “Let’s talk about your date with Thomas tomorrow night. Maybe you should make out with him too. For science.”
I snorted a laugh, happy about the subject change. “Oh, well, if it’s for science…”
Two bottles of wine later, I was happily tipsy and had pushed the hottest make-out session of my life out of my head.
Mostly.
Okay, not even a little.
