Page 8 of Don’t Make Me Fall (Mountain Men of Cinnamon Creek #1)

Chapter Eight

Hudson

I wake to the sound of hollow clapping, as though someone is hitting two sticks together. I reach out for Alanna, but my hand meets a cold, empty sleeping bag.

“For Christ’s sake,” I mutter, too tired for this.

I crawl out of my nice warm sleeping bag, annoyed that the sun has yet to peek over the mountains. We should be back in the tent, bodies snuggled together for at least another hour. Fuck, did I just say snuggled?

“Alanna,” I call out, unzipping the tent door.

It’s unsettling how she managed to sneak out of the tent without disturbing me. Have I slept that good in…ever? After eight years in the Army—four of them in the Special Forces—I learned to sleep alert. Every little noise wakes me. The habit’s been impossible to break.

Until now.

“Alanna, where are you?”

“I’ll be right back,” she insists, sticks still clapping together.

Frost coats the ground and glistens in the trees in the dusky dawn glow. It’s beautiful. But it’s also the time of morning when wildlife tends to roam about.

I scan the area for any potential threats, listening intently. When I hear the crack of a stick, I stiffen.

“Alanna—”

“I’m right here.” She emerges into the clearing, slowly walking my way. She tosses two sticks to the ground. “I just had to brush my—”

“Get back!” I shout, lunging toward her. I shove her behind me as a mountain lion lets out a hiss.

Alanna screams.

“Don’t scream,” I warn. “It’ll make it worse.”

I make myself as big as I can, yelling in a deep, commanding tone as I march purposefully toward the snarling, growling large cat. Now it’s focused on me instead of Alanna. Good.

“Hudson!” she cries out.

“Get inside the tent,” I order, keeping my eyes on the mountain lion. “But don’t turn your back on it.” I didn’t plan on wrestling a fucking angry cat with razor sharp claws this morning, but I’d be damned if I let it touch a hair on Alanna’s body.

After a few rounds of back and forth posturing, the cat relents and retreats into the woods.

Alanna rushes me, throwing her arms around my neck and hugging herself tight against me.

Her tits press against my chest, and my dick wakes up in an instant.

Adrenaline pumps through my veins at the encounter, and I’m half tempted to charge into the woods to ensure our predator has really run off for good.

But the other part of me is very aware I’m holding a very warm, very soft, flesh and blood woman in my arms.

“Are you all right?” I ask, burying my face in her loose hair, breathing in her intoxicating floral scent as I squeeze her tighter against me.

“I am now.”

She buries her face in my neck, and I notice the tip of her nose is chilled.

“You’re cold.”

“I’m sure you could think of a few ways to warm me up.”

Something akin to a low growl leaves my throat. If I hadn’t just chased off a fucking mountain lion that threatened my woman, I might have a single shred of sense left in my brain. But logic and reason are not currently in the driver’s seat. Something primal and possessive has taken over.

Which is why I scoop Alanna into my arms and carry her the short distance back to the tent.

I lay her down on top of the sleeping bags and crawl on top of her curvy body. I press my weight into her gently, to give her warmth. Her hands snake up my neck and drag my mouth down to hers. I devour her. She tastes of mint and seduction.

Her legs spread, wrapping around my hips, and she grinds against my hardening length.

“Fuck,” I growl.

“We could do that,” she says, a devious twinkle in her amber eyes.

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?” Her reaction is the shock I anticipated, and fuck if it doesn’t make me chuckle.

“Don’t rush me, sweetheart.”

I gently grip her throat and push her back down to the pillow, kissing her deeply, thoroughly, completely.

My hand slides from her neck to her chest, roaming her perfect body, first over the top of her clothes, then beneath them.

I push her sports bra up and glide my palm over her tit, capturing her taut nipple in my grasp. I groan, nearly nutting in my pants.

She lets out the sexiest whimper I’ve ever heard.

“Tyler ever make you make that sound?” I hiss the question, damn well knowing the answer.

“No.”

“Good,” I growl, sliding a hand between her thighs, teasing her between the layers of clothing. “Because I’m the only one you make that sound for, understood?”

“So bossy,” she teases.

I slip my hand beneath her leggings and panties, sinking my fingers into the wetness pooled between her legs.

“Seems to turn you on, sweetheart.”

“Everything about you turns me on,” she says, starting to roll her eyes but unable to complete the gesture halfway through because her eyelids fall closed. She lets out the most delicious moan.

“That sound is mine, too,” I say, slipping a finger into her tight channel.

My dick throbs.

I want nothing more than to bury myself in her wetness and claim her for my own. A warning whispers in the back of my mind that it would be a very stupid thing to do. But it’s drowned out by another long feminine moan elicited by my touch.

“You’re so fucking wet, Alanna.”

“Say it again.”

“That you’re so wet it’s like my hand is drowning in an ocean of you right now?”

“Say my name again.”

“You like it when I say your name?”

“Yes, dammit.”

I slip a second finger into her channel as I bury my face in her neck and kiss every inch of exposed skin. “Alanna.” I say her name in a possessive growl as I curl my fingers inside her, and she cries out.

“Fuck, Hudson. I’m going to—I’m going to—”

“Come?”

Alanna explodes.

Her body shakes with her orgasm, and I kiss her hard on the mouth as she rides the wave and my hand. I yearn to yank my pants down and plunge into her while she’s coming. But the first time I fuck her, it’s not going to be in a damn tent.

It’s going to be in my bed.

Even if the minx is tempting me with the way she’s cupping my hard cock through my jeans.

“We can’t. Not here—”

“Then at least let me return the favor,” she insists, unbuttoning my pants and slipping a hand inside.

I take the pressure off my arms and roll to the side, watching Alanna as she frees my cock. It looks so fucking good in her tiny hand, precum smearing her fingers as she slowly strokes me.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Take good care of my cock.”

She adjusts until she can easily use both hands. My lips find hers just as one hand cups my balls.

“You sure you don’t want to fuck me right now?” Alanna asks, her question a seductive purr.

“To be clear, I want to fuck you. I’ve wanted to fuck you since the first moment I laid eyes on you.”

“Then do it.” She shimmies her hips until she’s lined up with cock. She’s still wearing her leggings, but she presses me against the damp fabric and starts to grind against me. “Fuck me, Hudson.”

Just when I’ve decided fuck it, my phone lets out a shrill tone.

“Should’ve thrown your phone off the top of the mountain, too,” she murmurs into the bicep she’s kissing, refusing to let go of my cock as I reach for the offending phone.

It’s almost enough to make me forget where we are, and what that tone means. But a second sounding of it tugs me back into the sliver of reality I need.

“They’ve cleared the road,” I tell her.

“And?”

“There are hikers on their way up to this summit right now.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Wish I was.” I cup her cheek and kiss her firmly on the mouth. “We better go. We need to warn them about the mountain lion in the area.”

Disappointment flashes in her eyes, but I don’t dare say to be continued.

We both know we’ve already crossed a line, and it would be reckless to cross it any further than we already have.

If she were staying, things might be different.

It might be worth having a conversation with Reid.

But in two days, she’ll be boarding a plane.

This can’t happen again, and in the shared silence, we seem to mutually agree.