BIG MOUNTAIN PROMISE

Shades of lavender, pink, and pale blue wash across the sky as the sun bleeds into the horizon. Thunder rumbles in the distance, a low growl that vibrates through the soles of my boots. 

The scent of rain, thick and earthy, hangs heavy in the air. I inhale deeply, filling my lungs. Monsoon season had officially begun in our neck of the woods.

The offer to join the logging crew last year was a lifeline. A chance to bury the memories, the faces—

To find some semblance of peace in the solitude of the mountains. 

Ten years in the military, ten years of hell, and I'm still trying to piece myself back together. 

My buddy's call was a godsend, pulling me from the wreckage of my former life. I gave years to the military, and it left me hollowed out. The man who went to war wasn’t the man who came home.

I didn't move to the mountains for the scenery. The cabin, purchased with my savings, served a purpose. It was a place to retreat, to piece myself back together in solitude. But I grew to love this place and small town life.

The work on the crew is hard, brutal even. But it fuels me with a purpose. Something I still need these days.

Grabbing a few logs from the pile by the door, the rough bark scraping against my calloused hands, I stalk back inside the cabin to get a fire going. Inside, the fire catches quickly, casting a flickering glow.

I settle heavily onto the worn sofa; the springs groaning in protest, and reach for my book tucked between the cushions—some local ghost story, a morbid distraction. 

I don't buy into that crap, but the Raven House is close by, and I've been thinking about checking it out. Something to break the monotony. 

I crack the spine, the paper stiff and yellowed, and try to lose myself in the words. But a heavy thud reverberates through the cabin.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

The sound is insistent, someone hammering on the door.

The sound echoes through the cabin, amplified by the storm's fury.

“What the fuck?” I mutter, pushing myself up.

Who the hell would be out in this weather?

Anger flares, hot and sudden. 

I stalk towards the door, every muscle coiled, ready to unleash my frustration. 

I grab the handle, yanking it open with more force than necessary. The door slams back against the wall, the sound swallowed by the roar of the storm.

My heart stutters, skips a beat, then kicks into overdrive.

Standing before me, drenched and shivering, is the most beautiful creature I have ever seen.

Vibrant red hair flows past her shoulders and strands cling to the sides of her face, framing wide, innocent eyes that seem too trusting for this world. 

Eyes the color of bright sapphires, shining with a desperate vulnerability that tugs at something deep inside me.

I can’t help but notice her petite frame, accentuated by the thin sundress she’s wearing. It's plastered to her skin, outlining the generous curve of her breasts, the flare of her hips, the tantalizing shadow between her thighs. 

My dick pulses instantly, a hunger I haven't felt in years awakening inside me.

She’s so captivating, so unexpected, and for a moment, I forget a storm is raging around us. I forget everything but the primal, possessive pull she has on me.

I can’t tear my eyes away. It's like staring into the heart of a flame, both drawn to its warmth and wary of getting burned.

“What are you doing out here? You lost, sweetheart?” My voice is rough and gravely, even to my own ears.

“I got turned around in the storm.” She explains through her clenched teeth, her voice trembling slightly. “Your cabin is the first thing I’ve seen in miles. I also don’t have any cell phone reception.”

Goosebumps cover her skin, and her hard nipples are straining against the soaked fabric of her dress. 

It is fucking impossible to look away.

A possessive heat flares within me, an urge to claim, to protect, that borders on dangerous. 

I want to care for her, yes, but there's something more, something darker, simmering beneath the surface.

“Yeah, the reception isn’t too great here in this part of the mountains, let alone during a storm. You should come inside where it’s warm and dry.”

My gaze lingers on her trembling form.

Her brows knit together, and she bites her bottom lip, a flash of uncertainty in her eyes. It sparks a possessiveness in me, a need to shield her from any harm.

“You can’t go back out there.” I point to the rain pouring behind her.

I study her face, softening my tone despite myself. “I promise to keep my hands to myself. Come inside where it’s safe.”

However, I realize as soon as the words leave my lips, I’m fucking lying.

I will have my hands all over this girl before the night is out. 

The thought is a brutal certainty, a dark promise whispered to myself.

She glances behind her, toward the heavy rain falling from the sky. No doubt calculating her chances out there or in here with a complete stranger. 

She turns her head back around and nods in approval. 

Relieved, I move aside so she can enter the cabin. As she brushes past me, a spark of raw, untamed desire ignites within me. 

It's a jolt that's both exhilarating and terrifying, a hunger I thought I'd buried long ago. It races toward my heart and then to my cock, a heavy throb that demands attention.

Steadying myself, I suck in a deep breath, fighting to maintain control. 

I shut the door on the storm raging outside, run a hand through my hair, the damp strands slick against my skin, and prepare myself mentally for the storm raging in my heart.

Yeah, keeping my hands off of her is going to be really fucking hard.