TIMBER: The Bad Boy's Baby (2 page)

S
itting
by the fire in a leatherback rocker, I contemplate throwing on another log. But I'm wearing jeans and a buttoned flannel, and it's pretty toasty in here already.

Instead I unbutton my shirt and then pick up the rag I've been using to polish my axe blade.

Okay, I know I love this fucking thing, but I'm not some axe murderer. I just know tomorrow's work will go a lot easier if I have a sharp tool to hack at wood with.

I call it work, but I know it’s not a job. I’m through with the bullshit of running a company in a city where assholes are in charge.

So now I polish an axe blade instead of running the trucking company I built from the ground up. Well, that I built with my best friend, Dean.

Sleeping with the Sherriff’s daughter got me into trouble–which really fucked with our business plan. Dean was pissed I slept with her because next thing we knew Sherriff Martin was doing anything in his power to screw with us ... namely me.

It wasn’t my fault, I didn’t know who the hell she was. The next thing I knew we had taxes and fees slapped on our fucking truckloads every time I went to the weigh station.

Sherriff Martin wanted me out of Coeur d'Alene. That’s bullshit. No man can tell me what I can do. I left on my own terms.

I can sleep with who I want, when I want.

And the last thing I wanted was to screw over Dean. I’m not a motherfucking asshole. I took my name of the ledgers and became a silent partner.

And got the fuck out of there.

Now, my life has become pretty damn familiar. But I knew that would happen when I decided to ship out here, set up my man-cave in the woods.

Jameson starts barking like a goddamned fool, and I shake my head. I love my Irish wolfhound, but he gets all wiry out here in the woods, in a way he never was in the city. Every noise, every rustle, every gust of wind causes his ears to stand, his back to arch.

Maybe it's just that out here he feels alive. I can relate.

Jameson is going nuts now, barking up a real shitstorm.

“Goddamn it, what's your deal?” I ask, standing. I walk to the window and pull back the shades. Maybe some big-ass black bear has wandered down the mountain.

But what I see causes me to jump back in surprise.

This is no bear. Not even a cub.

I pull open the front door—shit, the only door in this one room cabin.

“What the hell are you doing out in a snowstorm?” I yell to the woman, Jameson barking behind me.

She's terrified, eyes wide and bright blue. Her hands clench a phone, using it as a flashlight, and her neck is wrapped with a hand-knit white scarf.

“I … I … I'm lost,” she says, melting in a pool of tears out there in the snow. She's gonna freeze to death if she keeps crying. Ice crystals are gonna streak her cheeks.

“What the hell are you doing? You some crazy-ass fool?” I ask.

“No. I'm just. Really. Really. Cold.”

I run my hands through my hair, trying to assess the fucking situation.

“Come in.” I pull the door open wider, not wanting some woman's death on my back. And fuck, this woman is beautiful. Looks like a motherfucking doe in the snow-covered forest. Innocence and purity, her cheeks rosy red, her eyes a glistening blue.

“Thank you.” She steps inside, not bothering to stomp off the snow she's carrying with her. This girl has no clue where she is or what she's doing. Grabbing a heavy-duty flashlight from the shelf by the door, I scan it out over the road.

In the far distance I see the outline of a vehicle. A small one. A fucking hatchback.

“You drove through the Idaho State Forest in January in that piece of shit?” I ask, confused as to why this mild creature would be alone out there, at night.

“In that piece of what?” she asks, disoriented. She spins, taking in my cabin, and when she does I see that beneath her fitted parka is a round little ass and curvy hips. Her blonde hair spills over her shoulders, nearly hitting her narrow waist.

“You drove that tiny car in the snow. In January. Whose dumb-ass idea was that?” I ask. She may be gorgeous, but she made a few terrible decisions.

“Mine?” she asks, shoulders scrunched up. “I didn't think it was supposed to snow until after I made it here. But then I stopped at Starbucks, and had to run into Safeway for some groceries, but they didn't have the soup I like so I had to go to another store … and the next thing I knew the day had slipped away.”

“Where were you headed, exactly?” I ask, wondering who let this naive woman out of their sight. This pretty thing is gonna get herself killed in the woods, the way she’s going.

“I'm going to my uncle's cabin.” Unzipping her coat, she continues. “It's around here. I know it must be really close. I just didn't bring a paper map, and didn't exactly think through the fact that my phone service was going to cut out.”

“What
did
you think through?” I bolt the door shut, knowing she is staying put. Sure, I swore off the city, but I didn't swear off women.

I watch as she tugs her jacket off, revealing a perfect pair of tits. Fuck, this girl is porn star material. Perfect DDs pushed together, taunting me in that V-neck sweater.

“It's really hot in here,” she says, fanning herself, looking at the fire. “It's like a sauna.”

“It's not that hot,” I say, though I know she's fucking right. The heat level increased the moment she walked through the door.

“Anyways,” she says. “I thought through enough. I just didn't realize I'd get stuck. Can you help dig the car out so I can get to the cabin?”

“You crazy?” I scoff at this woman. I've met so many like her before, not thinking through a goddamned thing. Not realizing the implications of their requests. Who the hell did she think she was? “You aren't going anywhere tonight.”

She laughs. It's a soft and sweet laugh, no rough edges on her. “I need to get to the cabin. If you won't help, can I at least borrow a shovel?”

“I'm not giving you anything of the sort. Not in the pitch dark, just so you can get stuck twenty yards up the road. You're gonna need a tow to get out of that mess.”

“Well, then, what am I supposed to do?” she asks, her eyes brimming with tears. “I'm sorry for showing up here like this. I'm such an idiot.” She shakes her head, biting her lip “I can't do anything on my own. Luke was right. I'm like a little girl with no experience.”

I pull back my shoulders, trying to get a read on this woman. She may not have a lot of life experiences, but she makes up for it with charm. She fucking drips sweetness. I want to lick her like a goddamned honeypot.

“Hey, no tears,” I tell her, trying not to sound gruff. I don’t have experience with relationships—I like to fuck fast and dirty, then move on to the next conquest—but I know enough to not be a complete dick when a woman cries. “Seriously. They are a fucking waste of time.”

I watch her flinch at my words, and her tears start flowing more freely.

“I mean, it. You've gotta fucking stop with that. You aren't a little girl. You're a goddamned woman.”

“I don't know about that.”

“There are two things you need,” I tell her, my arms crossed, my mouth twitching.

She looks at me all wide-eyed and innocent. Her chest heaves as she takes a deep breath, trying to control her crying.

“First of all, you need to get comfortable with the idea of sleeping here tonight, because you are.”

I watch her look around the cabin again, her eyes landing on the two chairs next to the fire, on the table set for one. Her eyes wander to the ladder leading to the one-bed loft.

“And what else?” she asks. “What else do I need?”

“You need to calm the fuck down.”

Her lips part in a smile, and—fuck me now—her face lights up this room.

“Why are you smiling?” I ask, realizing this woman is the opposite of the women from my past who were greedy and gluttonous, just like me. This woman is a goddamned angel.

“Today my motto was
Keep Calm and Carry On
,” she says. “And then my car got stuck and I prayed for a miracle. I saw the smoke from your chimney, and it was like you were my savior. And now you just said my motto … albeit a bit more garishly … but my motto nonetheless.
Calm the Eff Down.
I can do that.”

“What else can you do?” I ask, knowing exactly what I want her to do. I’ve been in the forest for two months, and I’m ready to fuck. I want her to spread her legs and I want to get her wet with my hard wood.

But she doesn't show me her pussy. Yet. Instead she sticks out her hand and says, “I can introduce myself. I'm Harper. And I'm so happy to have found you.”

The moment I set foot in the cabin I feel like my prayers have been answered. I know, it might be a little dramatic. But the entire time I stumbled through the snow to get to this cabin I prayed that it would be safe, and warm and not, like, the cabin of an axe murderer.

Sure, this man appears a bit intense. His flannel is unbuttoned, revealing a chest covered in tattoos, and he’s strong and built like a man made for the outdoors. Broad shoulders and big hands.

And when he turned to bolt the front door shut, I couldn't help but sigh internally at the sight of his perfect rear in those worn jeans. Even though I know it’s wrong to lust after a man.

But I'm not scared of him, or this place. He has furniture where it belongs, and everything in his cabin appears clean. Not at all like him.

He looks dirty—not, like, needs to take a shower dirty, but dirty like the men my father warned me about. Dirty like a man who knows his way around a woman.

Not anything like Luke. I admit, every time Luke touched me with his clammy hands, I was slightly repelled about the idea of our impending wedding night.

I always felt bad for thinking it, but every time I imagined being carried across the threshold and laid upon my wedding bed, it broke my heart a little. I couldn't help but feel let down, to have saved myself for marriage to a man like Luke.

A man who didn't even know how to use his tongue to kiss me.

One look at this mountain man, and I can tell he knows exactly what to do with his body, where to put his tongue. He stands with arms crossed, sizing me up. I like the way it makes me feel when he looks at me.

Warm, all over. Tingling. Awake.

He uses words more crass than any man I've ever spoken with. I'm never around rough and tumble men. Just the men in my father's congregation.

Standing in this cabin, I feel a long way from church.

I'm sure this man thinks I'm an absolute fool. Showing up here, like I need rescuing.

But I do. I need to be saved.

I
know
a horny woman when I see her. Fuck, I've seen a lot of them.

And sure, Harper is fresh, a woman who’s never been tapped. Everything about her drips with innocence—but her eyes are dripping with desire as she looks me over.

I feel the same fucking way as I rake my eyes across her body.

“My name is Jax,” I tell her.

“Just Jax?” she asks.

“Jax as in Jaxon. But nobody calls me that,” I say.

“Okay, Jax….” She bites her lip as if she doesn't know what to do next.

“If you give me your keys, I'll hike to your car and get you your shit for tonight.”

“And leave me here?” she asks, panic written over her face.

“Shit, woman, what's your problem? You running from someone?” I cock a brow at her, trying to figure her out.

“Not someone,” she says defensively. “But maybe
something
. My fiancé just left me … so yeah, I'm a bit vulnerable at the moment.”

“Honey, don't you know you shouldn't tell strange men in the woods that you're vulnerable?”

“Why not?” she asks. Her eyes dance with light and I can instantly tell that, while she may be a sheltered girl, she's a playful one. That will be handy to remember when I fuck her tonight.

And it's gonna be wild. I've been alone in this cabin for long enough.

She peers down at her chest, looks up at me with her pale blue eyes, and then asks, “Why wouldn't I want you to know that I am vulnerable?”

Oh, fuck me, woman.
I feel my thick cock get nice and hard when she opens her pouty little mouth and speaks with innuendo. I know where I'd like those lips of hers to go. Right around my hard trunk.

I think she'd like it, too.

“Your keys,” I say, holding out my hand.

She gets them from her coat pocket and hands them to me. When she does, I resist the urge to just grab her hand and pull her to me. I want to take her by the waist and throw her over my shoulder and head up the ladder to my loft.

I can picture tossing her on the bed and spreading those legs and burying my head in what must be a perfect, untouched pussy.

I have before me a woman who has never been fucked, that much is clear.

“My stuff is all thrown in, kind of all jumbled together,” she says. “So if you can just grab my tote in the passenger seat that would be great.”

“Sure thing,” I say, grabbing my coat from the hook by the door.

“Oh, actually, I need other stuff too. That tote bag is just my toiletries. None of my clothes. I don't know … maybe I should go look for that other stuff? It's all a mess.”

“Girl, you aren't going back out there in that snow. You can get your clothes tomorrow.”

“Then what will I wear to bed?” she asks.

“How about nothing?” I say, pulling open the door. I have to get out of here before my cock explodes. I have so much fucking wood for that woman, the only thing besides her that will chop it down is the frigid cold.

I have to find a way to get her to warm me back up before the night is through.

I thought being a lone mountain man was enough, but maybe I was wrong.

Oh, my heart. I've never felt the space between my thighs tingle in such delight. A wetness seeps into my panties as Jax walks out of the cabin, into the snow-covered woods, for me.

I need to splash cool water all over myself. I need that ache in my belly to be taken care of.

Maybe I'm just hungry.

I look over at the refrigerator in the corner, and know in an instant this craving has nothing to do with wanting to be fed.

It was to do with wanting someone to eat me.

Oh my gosh. I clamp my hand over my mouth, shocked at my own vulgar thoughts.

But I know it isn't the first time I've thought this way.

So many times I've asked God for forgiveness over wanting the things I shouldn't. So many nights I've laid in bed, imagining a strong, rugged man running his hands over me. Wanting to put my hands
down there
, wanting to rub my hands over my nipples, as I imagined a man doing the same thing to me.

But I've always refrained, practiced self-control. Repented for having such forbidden ideas about men and their parts.

Not that I've ever actually seen a man's parts. I've never seen a man naked, never seen a cock—a word I used in my own head after hearing rebellious girls at church camp talk about having sex and using the word cock in their descriptions.

I love the sound of the word.
Cock
implies something hard and dirty. It offers a fullness that a word like
penis
never could. Those girls had referred to their vaginas the same way, calling them
pussies
.

While I've never spoken either word aloud, I’ve imagined saying them. Of course, I'd never have been able to talk to Luke that way. He always spoke about
God's word
. Which, who knows if he meant any of it.

He ran off on me.

Gosh, I do not want to think about Luke right now.

I want to think about Jax.

Which I know is completely inappropriate.

I put my coat on one of the hooks by the door and yank off my heavy boots as gracefully as I can. Which is to say, not very.

When Jax walks back into the cabin, my rear end is probably the first thing he sees, as I'm bent over trying to tug off one of my boots.

“Need help?” he asks.

“Ugh. Pathetic, right?”

“Not pathetic. These kind of shoes are motherfuckers.”

When I grimace, he asks, “What, you don't like a man who swears?”

“I just haven't been around many is all.”

“What, your daddy a preacher or something?”

My face feels flushed and, when I shrug, Jax laughs.

“Fuck. Shit, I didn't know. No wonder you're acting like a lost puppy. You've probably never been off your leash.”

As he says that his wolfhound walks over to him and nuzzles his leg.

“It wasn't a leash.” I smile and shrug again. “More like a harness.”

Jax gives a bigger laugh this time, setting down my bag and taking off his coat. Revealing that rock hard chest again.

“But they let you take off the harness to come to the woods in the dead of winter, alone?”

“It was necessary. And it's not my parents who kept me tied up so much as my fiancé.
Ex-fiance.
My parents are deccent, and knew a little time on my own was what I needed. I'm not a child; I'm a grown woman. They know I can take care of myself.”

“Which is why you’re in my cabin without any clothes to wear.”

“Hey,” I say, finally able to yank my boot off in a huff. “That wasn't intentional.”

“Still, sometimes we make choices subconsciously because they’re what we really want.”

Every time he speaks, my body warms up a bit more. I've already taken off my boots and coat, but if he keeps this up, I think I'll be down to my panties in no time.

“I don't subconsciously want to be here without any clothing.”

Jax runs his hand over his thick beard and smirks.

“Maybe it isn't so subconscious. Maybe it’s exactly what you wanted to do.”

“You saying you know what I want?” I ask, standing a few feet in front of him.

“I think I know exactly what you want.”

I toss him a flippant smile. “Then I'm sure a gentleman like yourself knows I'm starving.”

“Oh, honey, I'm no gentleman.” He walks toward the kitchen and I trail after him.

“What are you then, Jax?” I ask as he lifts the lid off a Dutch oven, revealing a roast with potatoes and carrots. The whole cabin smells like rosemary and fresh pepper. Divine.

“I'm a bad boy—one you couldn't handle if you tried.”

“You don't know what I can handle. I just met you about ten minutes ago.”

“Maybe you're right. I didn't scare you off with my cursing or my tattoos or my axe.” His eyes dart over the fire and land on the polished tool.

“You don't scare me at all.”

Jax sets the lid back on the pan.

“Maybe you don't want to eat right now?” he asks, his eyebrows raised.

My throat tightens. Oh dear, this is getting a little too real, too fast. I don't know what complete indecency has taken hold of me, but I need to backtrack, ASAP. I need to get to neutral, God-fearing territory. I need to eat my dinner and say thank you and go to bed.

That. Is. All.

I watch as Jax tugs off his flannel altogether, revealing tattoos covering his arms, too. I want to inch toward him, examine each piece of art—but I know I can't. Actually, I could; I just don't trust myself.

I don't trust myself not to take his big hand and push it down the front of my pants.

Oh my goodness!

I must really be having a nervous breakdown about Luke leaving me.

I've never entertained the idea of having sex before marriage vows, and here I am wanting Jax, a perfect stranger, to undo me.

“It really is hot in here,” Jax says, walking to the fire and dropping another log on the already burning ones. “If you get hot, honey, just take off another layer.”

“I don't have anything under my sweater,” I say, knowing a thin lace bra is the only thing between this sweater and my bare skin.

“No worries. I know it can get real hot in here, though.” He tries to hide a smile, but he does a poor job of it. He unhooks his belt buckles, and rips the belt from the loops, then tosses it to the floor. It skitters across the wooden floorboards.

I drop my jaw, realizing his game. He’s gonna create a sweat lodge in here, forcing me to take everything off.

I turn back to the food and lift the lid.

“Mmmm, smells good. I'm gonna eat.”

Jax saunters over to me, his body right behind mine, and he leans over my shoulder, looking at the roast. A hardness presses against my bottom and I have to force myself to step forward, step away from him.

What I really want, what my body impulsively desires, is to arch myself right into him. The hardness that I feel press against me drenches my panties.

I've never experienced so much wetness down there, and it forces me to clench the lips of my pussy tight, as if I am scolding myself for such ideas.

But as I clench the lips of my pussy, it only makes the desire grow. This is all so new for me, these mounting sensations. I’ve never had them once with Luke. Never had them in my life.

Now I feel like I am on fire.

Just like those logs burning in the fireplace Jax has stoked.

Instead of pushing himself back into me though, he backs off and reaches around me for two plates.

“Have a seat,” he tells me, as he places the plates on the table. I do as I am told.

He brings the pot to the table and scoops some vegetables onto our plates, and cuts a few slices of the roast for us as well.

Before he sits down, he grabs two pint glasses from the freezer and then pulls the tap on a second, smaller fridge. He fills each with frothy, amber beer.

Bare chested, his jeans slung low on his hips, hinting at what is below, he hands me a glass.

I take it nervously.

“Cheers,” he says, clinking his glass to mine.

“Cheers,” I say, raising it ever so slightly but not taking a sip.

He takes a long swig, and eyes me warily when I don't follow suit.

“It's the good stuff, I swear,” he says. “I made it myself.”

“I believe you, it's just … I've never had a drink before.”

“You've gotta be shitting me,” he scoffs. “Wait, let me guess. It's against your fucking religion?”

“Yes,” I say defensive. “My family isn't super uptight or anything like that, but we don't drink alcohol. And I don't really mind. I've never felt the desire to go against my father's wishes. Or even been in a situation where it was offered.”

Jax sets down his glass, nearly empty.

“How old are you?” he asks.

“Twenty-one, why?”

“Just checking. I've never met a woman who hasn't been to a bar.”

“Why would I ever go to a bar?” I ask, picking up my fork and spearing a potato.

“To meet a man like me.”

“Then why are you alone in a cabin in the woods and not in some swanky bar in the city, with other hipsters, drinking fancy beer?”

“I'm not a hipster,” Jax says, but his artisan beer and beard and flannel say otherwise. When I laugh, he fake-glares at me. “That is a low blow, Harp.”

“Already with the nicknames, Jaxon?”

He smiles at this, and it warms me up again. Not the heating up between the legs warmth—something comforting and safe.

“To answer your question, I don't go to bars because this is my home now. I used to live in the city, but I'm done with that scene.”

“Why?” I ask. “What in the world could make a man like you decide to come out here?”

His eyes drop to his plate, and I can see that he isn't ready to open up to me.

Not like that.

But oh, my heart, I'm ready to open up to him.

I know it’s wrong, but as he looks down at his plate, all soulful and full of a past I know nothing about … I can't help but wonder if maybe tonight isn't about either the past or the future.

Maybe it is about being present, waking up tomorrow a new person.

Maybe I can
Keep Calm and Carry On
, by letting go of the one thing I've held so tightly to.

My virginity.