Page 5 of Ferocious Mountain Man (Seduction Summit Trails #6)

SAHARA

I screamed. Not just a little scream, either. A big scream. A scream that would probably carry to the next house…wherever that was.

The only good thing about having something—or someone—shake the tent again? Rafe could see I wasn’t making things up. Nope. I had good reason to scream earlier.

But Rafe kicked into hero mode, exiting the tent so fast, it may as well have been on fire. That left me alone inside while everything went very still around me. Nothing but the sound of rustling outside my tent.

Silence was the absolute worst in a situation like this. I couldn’t tell what the heck was happening, and I was sick to my stomach at the thought of harm coming to Rafe. Especially if it was because he was saving me.

No, it had very little to do with that. It wasn’t guilt. I legit didn’t want anything to happen to him because…

I cared about him?

How was that possible? I’d met him only hours ago. Sure, I’d looked at him, shirtless, hurling an axe toward logs, for the last few days, but that didn’t count as “knowing someone.”

I let the silence stretch on for another few minutes. Or maybe it was just a minute or two. Every second felt like hours right now.

“Rafe?” I asked, surprised by the shakiness in my voice.

Silence. I’d welcome the rustling sounds at this point. Anything to let me know he was still alive out there.

Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime of holding my breath, the tent flap opened. The sight of those black-striped, white sneakers brought the biggest sigh of relief of my life.

“Just a raccoon,” he said. “I chased it off.”

A raccoon. I tried to feel relief, but something held me back. This guy probably wouldn’t tell me if it was a bear or coyote or bobcat.

Bobcat? Was that even possible up here? I didn’t know. What I did know was that this guy would tell me it was nothing even if it was. And then he’d stay here all night to keep me safe. Or stake out the area outside the tent. Or watch from his window with binoculars.

He zipped up the flap and turned to face me.

He was in a squatting position—the only position that would work for him with this short ceiling.

His expression made it clear he wasn’t sure what to do.

Obviously, he’d decided against rushing out of here and retreating to the safety of his cabin, but he wasn’t advancing into the tent, just hanging out by the flap he’d closed.

“We aren’t in danger?” I asked.

I sounded a lot less shaky now. That was a good thing.

But I couldn’t help but remember the conversation we’d had before.

I’d confessed my deepest, darkest secret to him and left it at that.

Most guys would’ve made some excuse and gotten the heck out of here by now, but not Rafe. Did that mean he was okay with it?

“So…about what you said before,” he said.

His eyes seemed to blast right through me, going straight to my soul. The skeptical side of me was waiting for him to treat me like some sort of circus sideshow. Step right up. Take a look at the twenty-three-year-old virgin. She’s one of the few in the world.

“I went to a private all-girls school,” I said. “Most of my friends are virgins too. Well, they were .”

I added that last part almost as an afterthought.

I’d lost touch with all of them shortly after graduation.

Seemed they couldn’t wait to hightail it out of Savannah, and college was the perfect opportunity.

Savannah’s claim to fame was the arts school where I went, and since my friends weren’t interested in art or design, it made sense for them to leave while I stayed.

As a result, I’d lost touch with most of them somewhere around sophomore year.

“Got it,” he said. “Does that mean you’re waiting for marriage or something?”

I nearly laughed out loud at that. I had no plans to get married anytime soon.

My mom got married right out of high school and had me soon after.

She spent her twenties and thirties having babies and taking care of the five of us.

I loved her and respected her, but I was not the type who could enjoy a life of mopping floors and driving kids to soccer practice.

I needed a little more. I needed my name on as many bylines as possible. Maybe a few book covers someday if I ever achieved my dream of writing travel guides. That wasn’t to say I didn’t want a husband and kids. I just wanted other things too.

“Not marriage,” I said. “But not a one-night stand, either.”

“Sweetie, if I slept with you, it would be far from a one-time thing.”

I should say something. I should speak. But my body felt frozen, my throat tight. I couldn’t do anything but stare at him.

“I’m only here until Sunday afternoon,” I said. “I have to be back for…”

My voice trailed off. Back for what? I was here to do a job. My original goal had been to grab some interviews and pictures, then head home and write a kickass story that I’d send off to a few editors I’d been dying to write for.

“Do you?” he asked. “You look doubtful about that. Because if you’d be open to sticking around for a while, I’d love to get to know you.”

He was right. I was doubtful. But the truth was, I couldn’t tent-camp here another night. Not one. And my funds were limited. I’d come here hoping I could get away with setting up on this hidden property—I’d tracked down pictures of it online—and only having to pay for my meals.

“You can stay with me,” he said. “In my bed. If, that is, you want to.”

The offer was beyond enticing. Sleep in his cabin…in his bed ?

And even when it was time to return home, I lived just over an hour away from here. It wouldn’t be a big deal to drive back and forth—at least until we figured out if this was going to work out long-term.

So, what was the problem? To be honest, I had no idea. It had little to do with distance, though.

“I’m scared.”

I blurted that out before I even realized I was going to say it. The words just spilled out of me. But they were the truth, and for some reason, this guy inspired me to tell the truth.

“Of…losing your virginity?” he asked.

I thought about that a long moment. So long, he probably worried I wasn’t going to speak at all. But finally, I came to realize exactly what was bugging me.

“My best friend lost her virginity just after high school,” I said, thinking through the words even as I spoke them. “Guy named Chase. She met him when she went to the beach with her parents. Don’t ask me how she got away from them long enough to do that. But…well, she ended up…”

“STD?”

I held in a gasp. Gosh, no. But I couldn’t decide whether the truth was worse than that or not.

“Pregnant,” I said. “Her parents were mortified. They tried to get her to track down the guy and force him to marry her, but of course the dad wasn’t interested in that.

He had nothing to do with the child. She had to give up her scholarship, college…

the whole thing. She moved back home and eventually married an older man with young kids. We’ve lost touch.”

“And you’re afraid of that?”

Again, I had to stop and think that through. Was I? Not really. My parents were strict, but my mom snuck me to the doctor to make sure I was on birth control as soon as she heard about Aimee’s pregnancy. She said she didn’t want to take any chances.

“I’m afraid of the other part,” I said. “The guy who sleeps with me one time and changes his tune completely once it’s over.”

Now it was his turn to go quiet. He didn’t speak for the longest time. He stared at me for a minute or so, then dropped his gaze to the floor. After a couple of minutes of that, his head suddenly whipped up, his gaze sharp as it homed in on my face.

“I wouldn’t do that,” he said.

“Get me pregnant and abandon me?”

“Sleep with you one time and change my tune completely,” he said. “I know all guys say that, but I mean it. If you want to wait until we’ve known each other for months or even years, I’m not going to let you get away. Not unless you want to go, that is.”

“I don’t want to go.”

That led to another silence. In this silence, we stared at each other for what seemed like hours. I wanted to ask the same question I’d asked earlier. Now what ?

“I don’t want to wait, either,” I blurted.

The words surprised me as much as when I’d admitted being scared. But what surprised me even more was that I meant them. I didn’t want to wait. Not even one day. Not one hour. He couldn’t leave this tent without us taking this to its inevitable conclusion.

“What are you saying?” he asked. “I need to be clear.”

Again, I stared at him without speaking. Did I really have to speak the words? And if so, how did I say them? Should I be polite? Direct? Crude? Would he find the latter off-putting or would it only make things sexier?

Finally, I just blurted out the only thing I was comfortable saying. “I want to make love to you. I want to lose my virginity tonight.”