Quinn I (Undaunted Men #1) (16 page)

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. I just…”

“You just what? I’m confused.”
 

“I just hate peeing out here in the woods,” she admits, and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from bursting out with laughter. Her eyes narrow on mine, as she can plainly see I’m amused. “You know, you guys don’t realize how easy you have it,” she huffs. “All you have to do is whip it out and pee. It's a real ordeal for a woman to piss in the woods. It's messy and disgusting.” She makes a face that has me covering my grin with the palm of my hand.

“Fine,” she grumbles, “I’ll stretch out.” She's not happy, but she repositions her body, and then bends over to stretch out her legs. Her fine ass is within an arm's length of me. I think she's tempting me on purpose, and I have to look away. I add another log to the fire, trying to keep myself from getting a hard-on.

“The more time you spend on the trail, the easier it becomes to adjust to a lot of things,” I encourage her while I get out the necessary ingredients to make dinner. Keeping my mind busy, and avoiding her sexy body, I get everything set up on the front end before I need to start cooking. It’s a habit of mine to have everything on the ready. With my fold-up frying pan and a few spices set out, I glance at Alexis, who’s quit stretching. She's been silently watching me work.
 

I pull out my knife, and as I make my first cut through the rattler’s tough skin, Lexi makes a low squealing noise. I pause with the knife in my hand to look her way. Her nose is all wrinkled up at the sight, and I have to suppress a chuckle. Kimber has stayed underfoot the entire time, hoping to get something other than dog food tonight.
 

I shake my head at her antics and continue to skin the rattler. She interjects with disgust, “How can you do that?”
 

“It’s easy. Want me to teach you?” I ask, holding the knife out for her to take.

“Eww, no!” Appalled, she shrinks back and wraps her arms around her stomach. I chuckle and go back to my work.

“What do you think people did in the old days, Lexi? It’s not like there was a grocery store around the corner. People had to survive, and I might add, that was only one generation ago.”

“See? That’s why I was born in this generation. I was meant to have grocery stores.”

I laugh out loud as I peel back the snakeskin, exposing the meat. She cringes and then looks the other way. “Damn, citified Yankee,” I mumble underneath my breath.

“Hey, I was born in the South. I’ll have you know the Mason Dixon line starts at the Maryland border, buddy.”
       

“Not in my book, it doesn’t. Your state turned Yankee the minute the first northerner migrated south.”

She picks up a small stick and raises it in her hand, threatening to chuck it at me. I know she’s teasing, but I raise a brow in challenge and watch her hesitate. Having second thoughts, she decides to toss it into the fire instead, as if that was her initial intent all along. I turn my attention back to the snake and finish cleaning it.

I begin to prepare the meat for cooking, when Lexi pipes in with a few questions. “What kind of rattlesnake was that?”

“An Eastern Timber snake.”
   

“How many different kinds of rattlesnakes are there?” she asks inquisitively, her voice pitching high.

“There are all kinds of snakes, Lexi,” I tell her as I place the meat on the frying pan.

“How do you know which ones are poisonous?”
 

“Well, some have colorings. One verse I learned as a kid was, red touch black, my friend Jack. Red touch yellow, kill-a-fellow.”

She giggles at my rhyme. “Oh, my gosh, that’s hilarious.”
 

“Coral snakes are the kill-a-fellow snakes,” I explain. “They aren’t going to reach out and bite you like a rattler would, but they’re the kind that like to crawl into your sleeping bag and bite you.”

She responds by making wild gestures with her hands and then convulses, letting out a squeal. Oh damn, she’s funny as hell, and she’s so easy to rouse.
     

“Oh, geez, I don’t care if you are the devil himself; I’m in
your
bag tonight, mister,” she points at me, her eyes full of distress.
 

“I’m not sure I’m any safer, Angel,” I counter with a devious smirk. “I do more than just bite.”
 

Her cheeks turn bright red as she blushes, and then she looks the other way, avoiding my stare. She blows out a long, controlled breath, and a deep, rich laugh escapes my lungs. She acts so innocent and coy; I have every reason to believe I’m witnessing the true Lexi in the flesh, and I like it.

She changes the subject, trying to avert my dirty mind from embarrassing her further. “It’s not funny, Quinn. I could’ve gotten killed.”
 

“Yes, but you didn’t get bit. If you keep me and Kimber around, we’ll take care of all your beasts.”

“Mmm…the beasts…yeah,” she says thoughtfully. “I have one of those in real life, except no one can conquer that one.”

I tilt my head, studying her briefly. That's the first time she's brought up a piece of her drama. “Well, you obviously haven’t been around me long enough, or you wouldn’t have said that.”

She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I highly doubt you can handle this snake in the grass. I don’t think anyone can.” She then dips her head downward and wiggles her feet against the heat of the flames.

I finish cooking the first batch of rattlesnake, doing my best not to burn it, but try to make it as crispy as possible. I was able to make some breadcrumbs using bread from an MRE I had.
 

“What kind of snakes are red-touch-black?” she asks warily.
 

“Well, that would be your friend, Jack,” I start off.

“Oh, you are just…just…I’m at a loss for words.” She throws her hands up in the air, giving up.

I chuckle as I turn my attention back to cooking.

“How the hell…” She shakes her head. “No…never mind, I don’t need you to answer that question either,” she rambles on, talking to herself.
   

My shoulders shake as I silently laugh at her and her animations. By the time I set the second batch aside, I pick up a cooled piece of fried snake and lean over toward Alexis. When she realizes my intent of feeding her a chunk of snake meat, she shrinks back, her nose wrinkled in disgust.

“Uh-uh,” I lightly scold, “open.” Hesitantly, she opens her mouth and I place a piece of cooked snake on her tongue. I watch her intently as her soft, full lips close around my fingertips in a sultry move. She uses her tongue to lick around my fingers, and I know she’s trying to fuck with my head. My eyes heatedly narrow on hers. “You want to play games?” I rasp.

She shakes her head because she knows she’ll lose. I grin in satisfaction, and my ego swells as she chews what I’ve cooked for her. “I’m proud of you, you know that?”

“What for?”

“For trying this delicacy of mine.”

“It’s actually pretty good. Tastes like chicken.” She shrugs her shoulders as if eating rattlesnake is an everyday occurrence. I look at her with pride, then turn to make myself a plate.
 

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a flash of movement, and then out of nowhere, Kimber leaps up and scurries off. I turn around and watch with curiosity as she runs to a spot about five feet behind Lexi, sniffing the ground. My mouth gapes open. I can’t believe what I think I just saw happen before my eyes.

“Am I seeing things?” I question in a high-pitched voice, waving my spatula around. “I know you did not just spit that bite of meat out in your hand, and then chuck it over your shoulder.” I point my spatula at her accusingly with a raised brow. “I know you did not just do that.”

She has guilt written all over her face, her lips forming a thin line, and then she gets all squirmy. When she doesn’t answer me, I call her out. “You really enjoyed that, did you?”
 

I grab another piece of meat and then lean toward her. I slowly trace the fire-roasted meat over her lips, encouraging her, “Second one tastes even better.” Her lips are tightly pressed closed as she shrinks away from me. “What's wrong, my little Yankee angel? Don’t go bashful on me now; there’s plenty to go around.”

“Quiiinn,” she drawls out my name on a whine.

“Yeesss?” I mimic her, the deep baritone of my voice questioning her.
 

“All right, all right, I’m sorry,” she confesses, exasperation lining her voice. “I was just trying to impress you, and in my defense, I chewed it as long as possible. It tasted like chicken chewing gum,” she declares, making a face as she crinkles her nose. Internally, I’m bursting with laughter as she makes excuses. “And the more I chewed, the more I thought about what I was chewing, and it just wouldn’t break down in my mouth.” My shoulders start to shake, and I can’t school my features any longer.

She swats at my chest, and I grab her wrist, pulling her into me as I break out with deep laughter. “Now, was the truth so hard to tell?”

“Don’t I at least get credit for trying it?” She then pouts, displaying her doe eyes of innocence.
 

“It’s only when you swallow that you get credit for being a real woman,” I tease.

The air is cool on my backside, the skin on my face overheating. The fire is hot, almost singeing me. I watch her as she stares, unblinking, mesmerized by the orange glow of the embers. Nothing but the snapping and popping of the hardwood fills the silence between us. I think to myself how amazing it is how quickly you can get to know someone, all because you’re with each other twenty-four-seven, with zero distractions to interfere. Not being preoccupied with phones, computers, shopping, and all the other mundane chores people are tasked with everyday makes a huge difference. In the short time we’ve been together, I believe we’ve created a real and genuine bond.
 

This will be our fourth night together, and I have to say I’m getting used to having her around. We’ve both grown accustomed to sleeping together every night, but my dick hasn't; I go to bed hard, and I wake up hard. I'm just glad I haven't made the moves on her in my sleep again like I did the first morning we woke up together. Maybe when I’m half asleep, my body subconsciously knows better than to touch her like that even though it's dying to.
 

I take another sip of whiskey from my flask, swallowing the hard liquor, allowing it to burn my throat and warm my insides. This is the first night I’ve broken into it. I needed something to dull my want for her, but I’m not sure it’s working. In fact, I think it’s having the opposite effect on me. I nudge her arm with the flask, seeing if she wants a taste. She wrinkles her nose at the offer, and I chuckle at her. No sooner than I take another swig does it dawn on me I had just offered a pregnant woman alcohol. The sudden thought has me almost spitting out what’s in my mouth.
Dammit, Quinn,
I internally berate myself for being so stupid.
What the hell are you thinking?

When Lexi woke up this morning her muscles were a little stiff and sore. I didn't need to give her my famous speech about stretching and hydration, because admitting her foibles was the first thing out of her mouth when we woke up.

We wound up taking our time today and only hiked about fifteen more miles southward. I’m more than okay with the slowdown, because it means we’re not getting to her destination anytime soon. The more time I spend with her, the more I want her, and I’m fairly certain she feels the same way. I'm getting more and more flustered about all the secrets, though. I'm ready for some answers. My mind has been spinning all day from the thousands of questions plaguing me, because she’s still not opening up to me. Her secrets are locked down tight.
 

I look at her silhouette, the firelight reflecting off her olive skin making her look like a goddess. She's been quietly staring into the fires flames, deep in thought. She’s so damn beautiful and doesn’t even know it.
 

Reflexively, I lean over and grab her by the waist, encouraging her to come sit between my legs. She easily complies, but decides to sit sideways. She rests her cheek against my chest as I wrap my arms around her, providing her some comfort and warmth. It's obvious we've grown accustomed to each other, one of us is always touching the other in one form or another. I automatically kiss the top of her head and hold my lips against her as I blatantly breathe her in. It must be the alcohol loosening my inhibitions and my mouth, because I tell her what I'm thinking, whispering, “You’re so damn beautiful. You know that?” She shakes her head, disagreeing with me. “Well, you are, and I know I can’t be the only one who’s told you this.”

“They’re all delusional.”

“Oh?” I counter. “Why do you say that?”

She shrugs her shoulders and sighs. “I don’t know. I’ve never considered myself to be pretty. I’m just me. I’ve always struggled with my weight, and that alone has wreaked havoc on my self-esteem.”

“Well, I think you’re perfect.” I tilt her chin up, her amber eyes glowing against the bright firelight. "What were you thinking about over there?”