Page 5 of The Mountain Man’s Retribution (Summer in the Pines #7)

Chapter Five

FAWN

B odie leads me to his cabin, his body language urging me to follow.

Fear prickles my skin as I wonder if this is the moment everything changes.

When I finally see his devil. The touch of his thumb lingers on my cheeks, rugged and warm, and I wonder at the way he licked it afterward when he thought I wasn’t looking.

Unlike Big Man and his sons, I feel things with this man that I have never felt before.

My heart bangs around behind my ribs, deliriously pumping its overflow, and the ache between my legs intensifies, sticky and needy.

I wonder if I can wash it away in the shower, or if it will cling to my flesh like the heat his words, looks, and actions build inside me.

He opens the door to his cabin, and my feet freeze. I can’t make my legs work, mouth dry and throat thick with fear. I glance sideways, too fearful to look straight ahead and already seeing too much to comprehend.

Big Man’s cabin was dark, dreary, and endlessly dirty.

It had two big rooms and a lean-to for extra provisions.

Beneath the floorboards lay the carved-out, primitive root cellar.

The place I went when I was very bad, or he wanted to hide me from his devil or his sons.

He locked me down there for what often felt like hours, curled up in a tiny ball.

But Bodie’s cabin is airy and light, with white plastered walls and fine wooden accents.

And everywhere I look, those walls are lined with books, shelf upon shelf upon shelf, so high I wonder how he reaches the tomes at the top.

I am in heaven. I cover my mouth with my hands, eyes bugging out of my head.

“So, you like the books?” he chuckles.

I blink slowly, nodding my head enthusiastically.

“Good,” he says with a warm grin as I run from shelf to shelf, running my fingertips over the ancient spines, each holding a world unto itself.

The kitchen is another marvel, filled with things that scare and overwhelm me. Tears spring to my eyes again, and I wipe them away quickly before this man is tempted to consume more of them.

“Tell me what you’re feeling, Fawn,” Bodie commands, his face drawn with concern.

“I-I-I don’t understand. What is this?” I point toward a large wash basin cut into the light-colored, shining wood of his kitchen tables.

So many tables, I don’t know where to start.

Above the basin, a great metal pipe and spout bend downward, like the fanciest pump head I have ever seen.

Moving slowly towards it, I cover my mouth, heart galloping.

Bodie stands next to me, scowling as he touches one of two levers on either side of the curling spout, and water springs from it, clear and clean.

“Oh!” I exclaim, eyes dancing with wonder as I look at him, unable to repress a nervous laugh.

His face works hard to remain unreadable as he orders, “Put your hand beneath the water. Feel it.”

Hesitantly, fearful of his intent, I stretch my trembling fingers, body shaking as I run my hand through the cold, wet column.

Like the icy stream behind Big Man’s cabin, where I typically washed dishes and myself.

I squeal, delight expanding inside me. It is a marvel, and my cheeks glow with amazement.

But Bodie looks somber, his eyes red, his mouth twisted. I step back, fearful I have somehow upset him.

In deep tones, he growls, “Do not pull back from me, Fawn. My words are sincere. I’ll never hurt you.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, voice thick with emotion.

“It is too much. This is too much, but it is wonderful.” I can’t suppress the smile that covers my face as I shuffle towards him one step, my body fighting the whole time.

But I must show this man the respect he deserves.

For Big Man, that was total, unthinking obedience.

For this man, it is fearlessness in his presence.

Gritting his teeth until the muscles jump in his jaw, he pushes the lever back into its original position before leaning across the basin and moving the other. In dark tones, he grunts, “Now this one, Fawn. But be quick.”

“Be quick?” I ask breathlessly, knitting my forehead and staring up into the giant’s large, earthy eyes. My throat tightens, constricting my chest, as something I can only describe as desire pulses through me, greedy, feral, and blossoming in strength at each interaction with Bodie.

Stepping forward, my hand slides through the water. Heat! I pull back, a startled cry escaping my lips as I sink my fingers into my mouth reflexively.

Bodie blinks slowly a couple of times, swallowing loudly. His face flushes as he stares at me like I am a pitiable creature. “Did it burn you?” he asks in raw tones, arching an eyebrow.

“No, but it is hot. Frightfully so.”

“ This is a faucet.” He eyes me curiously, replacing the lever.

“A faucet,” I repeat. “I have read about them in some of Big Man’s books. One’s he bought me when away in town.”

“So Big Man went to town?” Bodie asks, face tight, jaw clenching.

“Yes.” I chuckle as though this is the silliest question I have ever heard. “For food and clothes, when hunting was poor, or he had some money.”

Bodie nods, staring off for a long moment. “Have you taken a shower before, Fawn?”

“Of course,” I answer, a scolding tone in my voice. I don’t mean to be rude, but these questions are silly. “Big Man had a shower beside the lean-to. Very cold. I didn’t like to use it. But if we could put this heated water in it, it would feel amazing.”

Bodie closes his eyes, his teeth grinding so hard together that I can hear them.

Have I asked for too much? Come off as ungrateful?

I shift my weight, internally scolding myself.

A man must never be made to feel less-than.

How could I forget this all-powerful lesson from Big Man?

After all, it was often the source of his cruelest punishments.

Every muscle in Bodie’s body tenses, as though he is overpowered by a realization I don’t grasp.

My mouth gapes, trying to find the right words to right my wrong.

An animal part of me screams through my limbs, urging me to run and hide.

But I stand firm, forcing myself to follow this man’s rules, for now I know there are three, though he only told me one.

Never run away. Do not fear him. And do not make him feel less-than.

Inhaling sharply and opening his eyes, the towering man explains, “One handle gives off hot and the other cold. You can mix them together until you find the right combination, so that you don’t burn yourself. Do you understand?”

I nod, shoulders relaxing as I realize I have misread the man.

He is not angry or about to punish me. His words hold true that he will never hurt me.

But my mind skitters, taking in everything he says as overwhelm grows.

I know enough from Big Man’s stories to understand things are different in town.

Should it surprise me that it is the same in this man’s cabin on the brink of that town?

“Come with me, Fawn,” Bodie grunts with an impatient motion of his big hand, and I follow tentatively down the dark hallway.

His finger flicks a protrusion from the wall upwards, and light illuminates the space.

I squeal, shocked by the trick. This man is all magic, and his house is exceedingly rich.

I read about electricity and lighting in some of my books, but the golden glow still takes my breath away.

“Are you okay?” the man asks, glancing back over his shoulder at me.

“Your house is grand.”

“My cabin is comfortable, big, and safe.” He emphasizes the last word.

I nod, working hard to keep my smile to a reasonable level.

He opens a door and walks inside. I stand outside for a moment, biting my lip and reminding myself I must summon my courage.

Stepping inside the big room, I stare at the beautiful floor, wondering if these are tiles that I have read about in books from distant lands.

My hand reaches out to the smoothness of the glass-encased area behind me, feeling the smooth white rock with gray swirls within it.

“Beautiful,” I whisper as though I am at a blessed shrine.

“This is my bathroom, Fawn.” He points to a white structure on the floor, lifting a covering to reveal a pool of crystal-clear water.

I fight the urge to kneel and splash the cool, clean water on my face and drink it from my cupped hands.

“My toilet. Or outhouse, only indoors,” he says, shocking me to my core.

He touches a metal handle, and the water swirls, sucked into the hole at the base. “For when you are done. Okay?”

My cheeks burn, and a laugh ripples up from deep inside. This is a rich man’s house, or I have crossed the pearly gates without knowing it.

“Why are you laughing, Fawn?”

Elation races through me as I breathe hard, unable to answer him. Tears of joy flood my face, and I quickly swipe them away. On a deep breath, I explain, “No pumping water from the well or visiting the stream. No chamber pot or outhouse. You are an exceedingly rich man.”

Words meant to express my happiness darken his face, and I wonder yet again what I have said wrong. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “My words were meant as a compliment.”

“Don’t apologize. Do you think you can manage the hot and cold water?” he asks gruffly, pointing towards the metal handles inside the glass compartment.

I shrug. “It is time for my shower, then?”

“Yes.”

Without a second thought, I undo the tight belt cinching my waist and the dirty denim drops to my ankles, revealing nothing beneath. Simultaneously, I wiggle out of my green coat, my hands going for the dirty white T-shirt beneath.

He gasps. “Whoa. Whoa. What in the hell are you doing?”

I eye him confusedly. “Taking a shower?”

“But I mean,” he growls, eyes dropping to my curves, his face burning as I remove my shirt, standing in my birth clothes before him.

“It’s okay,” I say calmly. “I know about men. I know what you must do while I bathe. It doesn’t bother me.”

“God,” he exclaims, stepping back, his face animated with emotions I can’t read. “What in the hell do you mean?”

“Before Big Man started drinking too much and his dick quit getting hard, he liked to watch me bathe. He pleasured himself to the sight, sometimes many times, to keep his devil at bay.”

Bodie rubs his hands over his face. “And did he touch you, Fawn? Hurt you in any way?”

“Punishment, yes,” I reply resolutely. “But touching? No. That was our rule. Never to touch.”

The man’s face is conflicted, anger seething beneath the surface. His eyes go to my shoulders, his face hardening. “Turn around and pull back your hair,” he commands. I do, and he lets out a violent exhale. “Those scars on your back? Are those from Big Man?”

“When I did wrong,” I excuse. “But it was my fault, not his. He tried to teach me, but I was stubborn as a mule.”

I glance over my shoulder, finding Bodie’s face stony. Anger flashes fiercely in his eyes, and I fight hard not to crouch in terror. “I have to go. Hot and cold,” he hisses, pointing at the handles again. “Mix them until they feel good.”

“But,” I say, panic festering. “Does my body not please you? Do I not make you hard?”

“Goddammit,” Bodie growls, staring at me. “Your body pleases me far too much, Fawn. I cannot watch you?—”

“But—”

“Trust me.” Turning, he rifles through a wooden cabinet, pulling out a stack of two fluffy, clean towels.

They are more than Big Man had in his entire cabin.

“Dry off with these,” he says, looking away.

“Clean clothes coming, too.” Pointing at my back, face red as a beet, he adds, “No one should ever punish you like that. Do you understand me? You’re a grown woman, capable of making your own decisions without fear of punishment or reprisal. ”

He sets the towels down and rushes from the room, his face tense and uncomfortable, a hard, large ridge bulges along the zipper of his jeans. It reassures me, knowing that despite his protests, I do please him. God only knows what he would do to me if I didn’t.

Still, I struggle to comprehend Bodie’s words.

They feel right to me. That no man should harm me in any way.

But they come with a heated rage that could devour me like fire licked the logs of Big Man’s cabin.

So much anger, no seething fury, about what my captor stole from me.

My childhood, my family, my life, my peace and security, my hope …

My hands shake as I pull the handle of the glass compartment, closing it behind me and testing out the metal levers. As Bodie said, I balance the hot and the cold, finding a temperature that melts my tired muscles and makes me feel amazing.

I lean back into it, moaning out my satisfaction as warm curtains of water wash over me. I get the unreasonable impression that if I stay here long enough, I might wash away every sticky, scary, horrible thing from my past.

The glass steams up so much that I can barely make out Bodie’s form when he enters again. “Clean clothes,” he grunts before closing the door. I marvel at what’s going on. Perhaps the man doesn’t like women, despite his earlier words and hard dick.

“Deep breaths,” I whisper to myself, grabbing the bar of soap on a shelf next to me and scrubbing my body and tangled hair with it. Even his soap is softer and silkier than anything I’ve ever used at Big Man’s house. Perhaps I am dead and in heaven.

I scrub the dark streaks from my body, lingering beneath the heat of the water for what feels like glorious hours. When I finally replace the levers in their original position, I step carefully out onto a mat on the floor.

Grabbing a towel and wrapping my body in its thick luxury, I use the second to dry my hair before sliding into the stack of clothes left for me.

A pair of too-big jogging pants and a sweatshirt.

I roll up the waist of the jogging pants until they fit, then slide into a pair of thick, wool socks that extend a few inches past my toes.

Stepping tentatively out into the hallway, I pad along the wood floor towards a white note on the counter. “Taking a shower. Make yourself comfortable.”

My eyes gravitate towards the large hearth, massive river stones used in its construction. Sitting down in front of a crackling fire he must’ve made while I cleaned up, I cross my legs, folding my hands tightly in my lap and straightening my back.

Every part of my being wants to crawl up into a ball and hide. My eyes scan the massive cabin, finding countless places to retreat. But I fight the urge, reminding myself of Bodie’s three rules and adding another to my own. No touching and no living in fear. Ever again .