He hands me a sweatshirt, thinking I’m cold, and I decide to go with it and pull the sweatshirt on. His clothes are huge on me, but I don’t remember the last time I was so comfortable. They smell like him too, and that seems to calm me, and I don’t even know his name.
‘Have you eaten?’ He asks.
‘Umm no, I was going to make dinner, but when I got back to camp, everything was gone, including my clothes. Of course, Chris didn’t check the weather, and I guess he was going to have us camp out in this.’ I catch myself rambling and press my lips together. He smirks at me, before heading to the kitchen on the other side of the main room. Then, he pulls a container out of the fridge and gets what looks like soup, warming up on a wood stove.
I’ve never cooked on a wood stove, but I really hope I get the chance too, while I’m here. The kitchen looks like a rustic cabin kitchen with natural wood cabinets and a dark countertop. There’s plenty of space to work, especially with the gigantic kitchen island.
He moves around the kitchen with ease getting dishes, some bread, and a glass of water ready for me. He’s all muscle and gorgeousness, and I can’t take my eyes off of him.
It might be easier if he were to put on a shirt, but I really don’t want him to hide those abs from me, either.
Finally, he sets me a place at the table, and when the soup is ready, he adds it to the bowl and puts it down as well.
I join him at the large wood table, and he sits in the chair next to me.
‘Thank you for this,’ I say, before taking the first small spoon full of soup.
He nods and watches my every move. I get the feeling he isn’t around people much and isn’t used to someone constantly talking, but I can’t take the silence and need to fill it.
I take another spoonful of soup. Who knew this somewhat shy mountain man could cook so well? This soup is delicious, and one of the best I’ve ever had.
‘This is really good,’ I say, before taking another bite.
‘Try it with the bread.’ He tells me.
His voice is deep and commanding, and I can’t help but do as he asks.
Reaching for the bread he set next to my soup bowl, I tear off a small piece. Then, I dip it in the soup and take a bite.
‘What’s your name, Little One?’ He asks.
I’m so shocked by how much I like the nickname that it takes me a moment to answer. ‘Emelie.’
‘Emelie.’ He says my name with a smile.
How can hearing him say my name turn me on so much. I think as I clear my throat and shift in my seat.
‘No one has said it quite like that before.’
His eyes heat and neither of us move, but his intense stare is almost too much, so I turn to look back at my soup.
‘What’s your name?’ I ask him.
‘Axel.’
When I turn to face him, he’s still watching me. Axel is the kind of name I would expect from a Montana mountain man.
‘It suits you.’ I smile at him.
Though, I wish I was better at reading the small ways his face changes, when I talk. Maybe, the more I’m here, the more I’ll get to know them, especially if I’m going to be stuck here for a few days.
Once more, I look over the cabin and notice more things. The table and chairs we are sitting on seem to be handmade, and I wonder if he made them. Not only are they sturdy, but they’re beautiful. They would fetch a good price in town, I’m sure.
Deciding to try and make conversation, I say, ‘This cabin is beautiful.’
‘Thank you.’ He grunts.
Something about the deep throaty sound vibrates through me.
‘Did you make this table?’ I try again.
‘No.’
Well, I’m clearly not getting anywhere. I look at him, trying to figure out if he just isn’t used to talking, or doesn’t want me to talk at all when he sighs. Like he can read my mind, he answers my next question.
‘A friend of mine made it.’
I nod and finish the soup he made me.
‘He did a very good job with the table.’
He pauses and watches me, before nodding to my bowl. ‘Would you like some more?’
‘No thank you. I’m full, but it was really good.’
He stands and picks up my plates. I feel like I should at least clean the dishes since he cooked me food, but before I can even suggest it, he’s speaking again.
‘Why don’t you go sit by the fire, and I’ll clean these up.’
‘I can help. I need to earn my keep somehow.’
‘You’re a guest and were wandering in the woods for who knows how long. Rest now, and tomorrow, you can help.’
I hesitate a moment, but I’m more tired than I realized, and the warmer I get, the more cozy and tired I start to feel. But I don’t want to be a burden, while I’m here. Yet, he does have a point.
‘Okay, but tomorrow I’m helping.’
He nods, so I take my time walking to the couch. The wall that has the hallway to the bedrooms has paintings and photos of wildlife, but no family photos.
I wonder what happened to his family that made him want to move out here all alone. I don’t think that’s something he wants to talk about to a stranger he was forced to take in. Since I don’t like talking about my family either, not that I have any.
Maybe, he doesn’t have any either, and that’s why he moved all the way out here. The cabin isn’t that old, so I know he didn’t grow up here, unless there’s another one on the property.
I sit down on the oversized couch and notice the fireplace isn’t gas like the ones back in town. This one is wood burning. I’d have no idea how to even start one like this. But the crackling of the burning wood offers a pleasant scent, and the sound makes it much more pleasing than a gas fireplace.
The next moment I picture him outside, chopping wood shirtless and in those worn jeans he put on when he got out of the water. Lifting his ax over his head, the tanned skin, his defined six-pack, and his muscles flexing, as he swings the ax with a precision that sends shivers over my body.
He did show me the woodpile, so I don’t think my fantasy is that far off. It would also explain all the sexy muscles he has.
I squeeze my thighs together, because the tingling down there that started, when I saw him in the river is getting stronger the longer I’m around him. Thankfully, the clothes are so baggy he can’t see that not only do I not have a bra on, but also how hard my nipples are.
When he’s finished with the dishes, he sits on the other end of the large couch from me, putting two full cushions between us. I grasp the pillow at my side and hold it over my chest.
‘So, you bathe in the river often?’ I ask, trying to start up a conversation again.
He looks at me from the corner of his eye, before he nods.
‘Yes, it’s calming and relaxing.’
‘And freezing,’ I say, thinking of how cold the rain could be.
I know most of the river water is snow melting from the top of the mountains, so it has to be pretty cold. Also, The Teton Mountains just south of here are glaciers, so I assume there would be some around here, too.
‘There are some hot springs not too far from here, and they overflow into the water. Keeps it nice and warm, and it doesn’t freeze in the winter either.’ He shrugs like it’s a normal thing.
That would explain why the water where I got a drink from was warm. I hadn’t given it much thought.
‘Hot springs like the kind people bathe in, or the kind down in Yellowstone?’
‘The kind people bathe in,” he says. “I’ve never been to them, too touristy. There are the thermal pools in Yellowstone, but the ones you can’t get in have rainbow colors.’
I nod. A few months ago, before our trip, I read up on them. I wanted to know as much as I could about the nature we would camp in.
‘Do you mind if I use the restroom?’ I ask.
‘You can use the one you showered in earlier,’ he nods down the hall.
I thank him, standing and heading right towards the hallway, and feel his eyes on me the whole time. When I reach the hallway, I turn back to look at him, and I was right, his eyes are still on me. I give a shy smile, and then go into what I’m sure is his room.
It smells like him of pine and man. That’s how I’d describe it. Though, with all the wood in the house, that’s what I could be smelling. I haven’t been close enough to confirm what he smells like.
The room is large with a handmade wood bed in the center and matching wood dressers and nightstands. Going over to the bed, I run my hand up the soft sheets. Gazing at the bed, I wonder what side he sleeps on. If I had to take a guess, I’d pick the side closest to the door. I can’t resist leaning down to smell that pillow. Sure enough, that pine and man scent is strong, and it’s his scent.
Then, I go into the bathroom, so he doesn’t find me being creepy, if he comes looking for me.
The bathroom looks like something from a magazine. There’s a large comfortable tub big enough for two and more than ample for him. With marble countertops, a large walk-in shower that gives him plenty of room to move around in, and a fancy shower head, it almost looks out of place in the cabin.
Taking my time, I use the restroom and wash up. I kind of expected handmade soap, but this is the stuff you get from the store. I always thought mountain men made everything, but he seems to like his comforts, too. Maybe, we aren’t as far from town as I thought.
Now that my hair is a bit drier, I try to finger comb it, but the chances of getting it under control are slim to none. Maybe, that’s why he keeps staring at me. I look around for a brush or a comb and find one in the middle vanity drawer. Hesitating only a moment, before I run it through my hair. Now, there’s no reason for him to stare anymore.
Looking at my hair in the mirror, I shake my head, because this is as good as it’s going to get. I take a deep breath and calm my nerves. If only I could hide away in his bathroom all night, but I need to get back out there. Then, I splash some cold water on my face and dry it off. Though, it doesn’t help the flush that has my face all pink. I don’t think anything, but a mind-blowing orgasm can help that. With that thought, my blush deepens.
So, taking a deep breath, I leave the safety of the bathroom. But not before I pause and inhale his scent, before heading back to the living room. Interesting that his scent, while turning me on, is also very calming.
When I walk in, he’s staring at the fire, and the light from the flame lights up his face. It highlights all the angles of his face and makes him look even more attractive.
I sit on the couch, and he turns to look me over. Now that I’m close to the fire again, I realize how warm it is. But if I take the sweatshirt off, then there’s a good chance, he’ll notice that I don’t have a bra on.
‘If you are warm, you can take the sweatshirt off,’ he says.
Well, here goes nothing.
