Ordered By The Mountain Man(16)

He’s sawing at the nearly raw steak with such abandon that I’m literally scared I’m going to vomit. And he isn’t the only one hacking into the meat with gusto. The girls a few seats down are gnawing at the animal flesh, and the other tables are filled with enthusiastic carnivores. The only person not annihilating the food on his plate is Mason—and that’s only because he’s laughing at me.

“Um, I’ll be right back,” I tell Boone. “Just using the restroom.”

I clamp my mouth shut and hightail it out of the dining room. I practically sprint up the stairs past the massive, mounted grizzly bear and, I shit you not, a full-sized Caribou. Running past it, I open my door and head straight to my bathroom.

Leaning over the toilet, I empty the nothing that is in my stomach. This isn’t an overreaction. This is a lot of dead animals. A lot of blood and guts and gore.

After retching into the toilet for ten minutes, I lean back, trying to decompress. Trying to remember what the hell I’m here for.

And I’m mildly annoyed that my husband-to-be didn’t come after me. Isn’t he worried about where I’ve gone? Concerned about my well-being? I guess not.

Though, to be fair, when Sally came to check on me, I sent her away, saying I was tired and going to sleep. She could have told Boone to give me space for all I know.

I stand and brush my teeth, then open my suitcase and take out my case of essential oils. I line up my collection of five milliliter bottles on the long bathroom counter, then take a roller of clove and spearmint oil and rub it onto the base of my neck, onto my temples. Taking deep breaths, I try to figure out why I haven’t left.

It might not be ideal, but I’m not ready to quit.

I take off my clothes, leaving my slip on, and shut the heavy drapes, blocking out the bright Alaskan sun. Sliding into bed, I pull the quilt high under my chin, roll to my side and close my eyes.

It’s been a long effing day.



I wake in the night, disoriented. My eyes pop open as I feel the weight of a man beside me. Behind me. Wrapped around me.

What is that? Oh. Just a massive boner grinding against my ass.

Oh, right. Boone. My husband. Or, rather, my soon-to-be husband.

His hand rests across my chest, and I find that I don’t mind it in the least. He’s so big and burly, and I have no desire to push him away. In fact, I want him closer.

A sleepy smile crosses my face as I remember the way I felt yesterday in this same bed, when took me as his. But then the smile falters slightly as I remember puking in the toilet after the bloody-meat fest that took place in the dining hall.

But those memories fade as Boone’s hand squeezes my breast gently, and they fade even more as I roll toward him, reaching into his boxers, taking hold of his hard cock in my hand.

His eyes are shut, but they blink open as he realizes I’m touching him, realizes I’m inching closer to him. Then I’m hiking up my slip, eagerly wanting him to fill me up the way he did before.

Is it wrong of me to want him so badly, when I don’t know where this relationship is headed? Maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe it is enough right now, as long as I’m in his arms. It’s okay for me show him my physical desire, to want him. After all, he’s the one who said a just-sex marriage might be enough.

“Delta,” he whispers. His lips look so soft, yet firm, and I realize I still haven’t kissed him. Yesterday, we were so consumed with fiery passion that we never slowed enough to properly—or even improperly—make out.

I want his lips on mine now.

“Kiss me,” I whisper. “Please.” Those are the only words we speak, and they are enough. I give him permission and he’s a man who doesn’t ask twice. He’s a man who wants me as badly as I want him.

He wraps his arms around me, cups his hands on my face, pulling me closer. He presses his mouth against mine, and I inhale his sleepy, sexy dream state. I sink into his kiss, and he’s clearly awake now. He runs his hand over my ass, his hand under my panties, grabbing my ass as our tongues explore one another. I can’t get enough of him, can’t taste him fast enough.

He pulls me on top of him, and I lay across his chiseled chest, his hands tugging off my panties. He smacks my bare ass playfully. Our lips unlock, and I look into his eyes.

Damn. They seem to shine in the dark room, drawing me toward him with an irresistible pull. His fingers move across my ass, and then he grazes my pussy from behind.

My ass is in the air and the strap of my slip falls off my shoulder exposing one breast for him, perfectly. He licks my nipple, sucking at the hard, tight nub, and I raise my ass even higher in the air, arching my back, wanting his hand to run up and down my slit, getting me nice and wet for whatever comes next.