Page 5

Chapter 5

Lillian

E rik.

Erik is the completely, totally, way-too-normal name for the fucking mountain of a Viking lumberjack that stands before me. Easily 6’5”, with shoulders like The Rock, and buck-naked as the day he was born.

But unlike Dwayne Johnson, this man has a full head of long, curly dark blonde locks and a beard to match. His massive, sculpted chest is smudged with dirt, as if he’s been living naked and alone on this island for months.

But none of that even matters, not really, because the most remarkable thing about this crazy homeless Viking man is the massive erection jutting out from his pelvis. Jesus Christ, I’ve read enough romance novels that praise the penises of their leading men, and like many other readers I usually roll my eyes at the fawning of the heroines over the size of their dicks. If I have to read one more girl wondering “if he’d fit,” I’ll gag.

Scratch that. Bad choice of words. Now all I can think about is how I would actually gag on this man’s cock if it were ever in my mouth. He’s huge.

Suddenly, I understand what it would take for a woman to question whether or not a man would fit inside her.

I feel my cheeks heat. Again. I remember that I, too, am naked. And my jiggly belly, fat ass, and floppy titties are on full display in front of this Adonis of a mountain man.

Whyyyy did I think skinny dipping was a good idea?

“Okay, Erik. Nice to meet you. I uh, I should be getting back–”

“No! Please, maiden, do not leave.”

Maiden?

Okay, what’s with this guy? He sounds like he hasn’t talked in a hundred years, and it seems like he has the vocabulary to match. Or he’s one of those nerdy neckbeard types that likes to LARP as a paladin on weekends or something, and I’m the first female he’s seen in months.

I need to get out of here.

“Sorry, I should really get some clothes, you know? It’s a little chilly out here.” I turn to swim back to the shore, despite being pretty tired after I just ran away from Tiffany.

Yeeeaaaah, maybe that wasn’t the brightest idea I ever had.

A pain shoots through my chest at the thought of my former best friend. How long has she felt like she’s outgrown me, and just been too polite to say anything about it? Has this just been since she became pregnant? Or has it been building ever since she met Dean?

You know what? On second thought, nothing about her leading me on the way she has is “polite.” She’s a bitch, is what she is. Cutting our vacation short so she can go dick her boyfriend. They’re probably already on the highway home to Chicago.

I take a few more steps back towards the water, tears springing to my eyes once more, when a hand grabs my wrist.

Instantly, a shock zings up my arm. Not like a static electricity shock—this is like a warm tingle that zips from my wrist to my neck and down my spine, sparking a fire in my stomach.

Oh.

I whip my head over my shoulder, and see that Erik’s big, calloused hand is gripping my arm. His hold is strong, and up close, his body is even more enticing. I can feel the heat radiating off of him, and I can smell him. My nostrils widen as I take in a deep breath, and realize with a start that even though he looks dirty, he doesn’t smell bad.

No, he smells… musky. Loamy. Manly.

Fuck. It’s hot. He smells hot.

The heat that started pooling in my belly at the sight of his rock-hard cock spreads lower, until it pulses in my pussy like a heartbeat. I look down in embarrassment, and remember that, of course, I didn’t shave before going on this trip.

So not only am I fat, naked, vulnerable, and gross with lake funk, but I also have a full bush situation going on.

Great. Just great. I finally get a man’s attention, and it’s at the worst possible moment.

I tear my arm from his grasp. Surprisingly, he lets me go. But I don't walk away from him just yet. Instead, I just rub the spot where he grabbed me with my other hand, and give him a hard look.

He looks back, completely nonplussed.

“What? What do you want?”

He stares deeply into my eyes before answering, and the warm tingling returns in earnest. His eyes are so dark, almost black, and they glitter with a swirling intensity. I’m unable to look away, utterly hypnotized, until he speaks.

“I need you, Lillian.”

Say what now?

“You… need me?”

I couldn’t have heard him right. Sexy naked Viking man needs me?

Uh, yeah, no. Not unless he needs someone to help him patch his canoe or something. Or maybe he hit his head on one of those big boulders along the north shore?

That would explain it. Why else would anyone this unjustifiably hot claim to need a lonely wreck like me?

“Yes. I need your help.”

“I mean, I can call the coastguard for you?—”

“No! Only you.” He reaches for me again but hesitates, his giant hand hovering just above my shoulder. I can feel the heat of his palm, agonizingly close, warming my skin without actually making contact.

He’s waiting for my permission to touch me, I realize. But I stay perfectly still, eyes wide as I wait to see what he does next.

He pulls back his hand. Conflict swirls in his dark eyes for a moment, and by the light of the moon, I see a shadow cross his face. It almost looks as if he's fighting some kind of war with himself.

No, that’s silly. What does that even mean? A war with himself?

I must be seriously dehydrated from the long swim. I need to get back to the cabin.

But just as I make the decision to swim back, Erik sighs. A full-chest exhalation, like the weight of a thousand years is crashing down on his lungs. His whole body seems to deflate, with the exception of his cock, of course, which still bobs temptingly below his waist.

This poor man. What happened to him?

“No. I cannot ask you to stay. I’m sorry. Please, leave here. Hurry. Do not come back to this lake. It isn’t safe here.”

“What?”

I’m not sure what I was expecting him to say after a sigh like that, but it wasn’t that . It isn’t safe here? What on earth was he talking about?

First Tiffany, now him. What is wrong with everyone today?

“If you need help, I’m sure–”

“Now! Leave!” He shouts, the gravel of his voice cutting deep into my heart.

With that, something snaps between us, and I crash back to reality.

I’m naked on a strange beach, and a crazy unhoused man, albeit a smoking hot one, is yelling at me, literally telling me I am unsafe.

Granted, he’s likely the one putting my safety at risk, but regardless, I should take my chance while I have it.

I need to get out of here.

With one last look at the stranger, I wade out into the lake and start swimming back to the mainland. The moon shines high in the sky above me; night having fallen in earnest now.

Tiffany’s likely long gone.

My arms ache as I arch them up and stroke into the water again and again, breathing heavily with the effort. I kick with all my strength, the fear of what I just encountered sinking in.

Who is that man? What is he doing out on that weird tiny island in the middle of the lake? And why was I so drawn to him?

Those broad shoulders, his sculpted body. He looked like he could fucking bench me if he wanted to without a problem. I suppose if anyone is able to survive alone on an island in the middle of a Great Lake, it’d be a frickin’ Viking lumberjack.

Fuck. I’m exhausted.

About halfway between the island and the mainland, the adrenaline starts to wear off. I slow my strokes a bit, switching to a treading doggy paddle as I catch my breath. This is not an easy swim, and I’ve already done it once today. I’ve been in the water for the better part of three hours today. I need to take it slow, otherwise–

Gah! A cramp seizes my calf.

“Fuck!” My leg lights up with pain, and my mouth sinks below the surface as my kicks falter. Water fills my mouth, and I cough. Charlie horse! Shit!

Desperately, I flail in the water, my nose and mouth bobbing in and out of the lake as I kick and pump my arms as best as I can, trying to stay upright while I bite through the pain.

It’s not letting up!

God, when was the last time I drank water? I was drinking cocktails all day while I was reading on the beach. Of course, now I’m dehydrated, and still a mile away from shore…

The cramp grips my calf like a vise, and this time my whole head dips below the water. My mouth opens in panic, and I take in a huge lungful of Lake Superior. I wave my arms helplessly, coughing and sputtering as I briefly surface, only to plunge back down under the surf as a particularly bad pain bolts through my leg.

“Gah!” I cry, but it’s too late. I’m sinking. My eyes flare open, stinging in the lake, as I wildly search for something, anything, to help propel me back above the surface.

But there’s nothing. Just a black blur, getting ever larger in my vision, and a pressing pain squeezing my lungs, until finally, it all goes dark.

What was it that the old man said? All those years ago?

Lake Superior never gives up her dead…