Sexy Wreck

Chapter 11

She glanced at him and combed her hair away from her face  with her fingers. "My doctor put me on it almost a year ago for medical  reasons... and you're the first person I've been with since then."

She  obviously wanted him to know that she didn't do this kind of thing  often, and that notion pleased him more than he wanted to admit. Moving  to his side of the bed, he stood up and pulled his briefs and jeans back  up, feeling compelled to reassure her, too. "I want you to know I'm  clean, so no worries there, wither."

"Me, too."

He  nodded curtly, suddenly feeling awkward and uncertain with her -  another first that confounded him when he was so used to emotionless  encounters. And damn if he hadn't felt something when he'd been  deep inside of her. More than sex and pleasure, she'd not only touched  his scars, but manages to touch his soul, as well. And it had been a  very long time since he'd let any woman that close.

"You ca use the bathroom in here" he said, pointing the adjoining door, desperate to escape the great outdoors and breath clear, clean air into his lungs instead of the mingled scents of sex and Axelle. "I'll use the one in the other room."

With that, he left her alone, certain after the way he'd treated her she'd get dressed and hightail it out of there and head back to the city where she belonged. The thought should have relieved him, but instead left him with a hollow feeling in his chest.

Axelle gave Zeke a half on his own before deciding it was time for her to fight for her cause yet again. She refused to let him withdraw from her, and she still wasn't taking no for an answer. Now would she allow him to berate himself for what had just transpired between them. It had been a long time in coming, and so worth the wait.

She harbored no regrets, except for the fact that he'd bolted so quickly afterward, leaving her feeling much too alone. And tat realization startled her, because she'd been on her own for a long time now and was used to being alone.

Having changed into a pair of jeans, a baby foll T-short sans a bra, and sneakers, she stuffed her shorts, tank top and sandals into her duffle, her insides still recovering from their very tempestuous joining. And her outsides, for that matter, as well, she thought with a private smile. Her skin felt hypersensitive, her breast swollen and tender, earth-shattering climaxes she'd ever had the pleasure of enjoying. The man had easily discovered her sweetest spots, and had used that intimacy to his advantage and hers.

Grabbing her camera and making sure it was loaded with a full roll of film, she headed outside and followed the steady and loud thwack, thwack, thwack sound coming from the side of the cabin. She rounded the corner and stopped in her tracks, momentarily mesmerized at the breathtaking sight that greeted her.

Zeke was chopping wood, his back facing her as he set a thick log on the base of a large tree stump, and with a very accurate, downward swing of his axe he split the limb in two. He tossed the chunks of wood into a growing pile next to the cabin, then he repeated the process all over again.

He was still shirtless, and the sun glinted off hid tanned, muscled shoulders and back, an d made the fine sheen of perspiration oh his upper body shimmer with every move he made. His rakishly long hair was mussed from their earlier romp, He was sex and sin personified, the complete embodiment of a gorgeous, early male in his element.

She couldn't have set him up with better props if she tried, or ma more perfect backdrop than the craggy rocks, trees and trails behind him. Lifting the camera, she began taking pictures. This was the real outdoor man she wanted to capture on film- no pretenses, no stiff pose or fabricated smile for the camera. Just a man at one with nature, a man who enjoyed the sun and earth and hard, physical labor.

He didn't acknowledge her, even though she knew he must have heard her behind him, gliding closer, the click of her camera, the whir of film advancing. She moved to the side, focusing on a profile shot which would eliminate the red, puckered scars on his back that seemed to make him so self-conscious. Instead, she concentrated on his muscled arms, his defined chest and lean belly, and the way those jeans of his rode low on his hips.

She took in hid dark hair that fell over his brow, the chiseled cut of his jaw, and the beautiful mouth that had given her suck incredible pleasure. In time, she hoped those lips would curve into one of his trademark Wild grins, which she'd been lucky enough to glimpse the first time she'd met him. Before he'd realized she wanted him for her magazine project.

She hadn't seen that sexy smile since.

As she continued taking pictures, she read his body language and those subtle nuances she picked up behind the camera, and knew there wasn't much anger left in him. He was releasing a whole lot of frustrated energy, yes, but there was a resignation about him that bolstered her confidence and gave her hope that she had his cooperation from here on.

He stopped chopping wood and finally glanced her way as she snapped another picture. He said nothing, another good indication that he wasn't going to order her away yet again. Not that she;d go. He watched her, his seductive blue eyes intense and searching, as if he was trying to figure her out, who she was beyond the woman with the camera, what drove her.... and what was she hiding from?