Size Matters (4 page)

“Actually, no. I freelanced for a while but you can’t make enough to pay the bills.

Then I saw an ad in the classifieds for a staff writer at a weekly paper. I didn’t really know what I was getting into at first. I just needed to pay my rent.

“My first assignment was an article on a haunted house in Oley. A ghost that played music all night and forced the homeowners to dance with him. Turns out the neighbors had outdoor speakers they forgot to turn off most nights. I had the best time writing that story. After that, I was hooked.

“Where else would I get to take mundane events like a flu epidemic or an overgrown dog running around someone’s backyard and make them fantastic? I’ve been there going on three years now.”

“Sounds like you love your job.”

Her smile made his blood burn. “It’s fun. It may not be my dad’s idea of journalism, but there’s got to be a balance between all the political bullshit and the misery, right?” When she put it that way… “Yeah, I guess so. So, you were out here for a story? In the snow?”

“It wasn’t snowing this much when I left. And by the time I realized it had turned into a blizzard, I was already here. I figured I’d just get the photos and get home.”

“Photos of what?”

She waved a lazy hand as she took another sip of the chocolate. “The trees, the area.

Any wildlife that may be around.”

Damn, he knew where this was going but he couldn’t stop himself from asking.

“Wildlife?”

She sighed. “Bigfoot, okay. I’m here to do a story on Bigfoot.” Carrie couldn’t tell by the look on Tim’s face whether he wanted to laugh, sneer or shake his head.

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Size Matters

She’d had her fair share of all three in the time she’d worked for the
Journal
.

Usually, she didn’t give a rat’s ass what other people thought. If they couldn’t accept what she did as a legitimate form of entertainment, then they needed to loosen up or get a life. Or both.

Hell, many of the people who looked down on her job regularly devoured
US

Weekly
and
In Touch
. Those weekly tabloids dished just as much pain and misery as her father’s “respectable” daily.

“Bigfoot, huh?” Tim’s tone was carefully modulated, revealing nothing about his thoughts. “Someone saw Bigfoot near here?”

She nodded. “Got a call yesterday. My editor wanted some live pictures of the area, since we’re so close.”

Stretching his long legs out in front of him, he crossed his feet and rested his hands on his naked, flat stomach.

Damn, the guy was sexy as hell. Even his feet turned her on. They were lean and long and… Oh, for chrissakes, she was lusting after his feet.

“So,” he paused as if trying to find the right words, “you’re looking for Bigfoot.” She almost sighed but caught it back just in time. “No. I told you, I don’t believe in Bigfoot. But when my editor tells me to get live photos of the area for the pages next week, I do what he says.”

Tim nodded, his expression thoughtful as he stared at her.

Did he think she was a nut case? Did he regret having sex with her?

Hell, she certainly hoped not. Because they were going to be seriously bored to tears if they were stuck in this cabin together until the snow let up and they didn’t have sex to break up the monotony.

And she really,
really
wanted to have sex with him again.

She wasn’t a slut. She chose men as carefully as she chose her hairstylist and she was damn picky about who cut her hair.

29

Stephanie Julian

But she trusted her instincts and her instincts said this man was a keeper.

Hell, he could’ve taken advantage of her in so many different ways, it was scary to contemplate. Yet, he’d been the utmost gentleman. And he’d given her the best orgasm she’d ever had.

He nodded, as if agreeing with her unspoken determination and she became mesmerized by the slide of his beautiful hair on his shoulders. She’d never seen anyone with hair like that.

“Guess your photos are going to have to wait until we can get back to your car,” he said. “Do you want to call your editor and tell him you’re not going to make it back tonight?”

Damn, he was thoughtful too. If he was some nutcase, no way would he let her call anyone to tell them where she was. He had to be on the up-and-up. “Yeah, I would.

Thanks.”

“I’ve got a satellite phone hookup.” He rose to walk to the counter where he grabbed a blocky-looking phone off the counter. “Out here I can’t rely on regular phone lines or cell coverage.”

Giving him a warm smile, she called the newsroom and spoke with her editor and explained the situation, reassuring Bill several times that she was safe. Maybe the guy did have a heart, after all. He even demanded she give him Tim’s name and his address, which Tim supplied.

When she hung up, Tim was kneeling in front of the fireplace, tossing logs into the flames. Walking over to stand next to him, she marveled again at his size. The top of his head was nearly level with her chin. If he turned, he’d probably be able to put his mouth on her breasts.

Just the thought of his lips on her nipples made her thighs clench in anticipation.

“So, Tim, what are we going to do for the rest of the day?” 30

Size Matters

Good question, Tim thought, throwing another log on the fire. And a dangerous one.

Because what he wanted to do involved his bed, a can of whipped cream and her naked body.

Christ, was it possible to have an erection-induced heart attack?

He wanted this woman like he’d never wanted anyone else. The fact that he liked her made him want her even more.

Smart, self-deprecating and funny women turned him on like nobody’s business.

Throw in Carrie’s red hair and awesome body and—
ding, ding, ding
. Jackpot.

He picked up another log, even though the fire was burning bright. “Um, I think I’ve got a few board games or a deck of cards around here somewhere. Unless you want to watch some TV?” It would run down the generator and he had a finite supply of gas but if that’s what she wanted—

Her hand landed on his shoulder, winding a piece of his hair between her fingers.

He’d been thinking about cutting it lately. The wavy, crazy-colored mass of it, combined with his height, made him too damn memorable. If he wanted to have a shot at fitting in out here, he’d have to get rid of it.

Of course, maybe he’d never be able to fit in anywhere but the small village where his parents and most of his family still lived. Citeka, Nevada, boasted less than five hundred inhabitants, most of those related through blood or marriage.

The village had been founded more than a hundred and fifty years ago, after their tribe had moved from its former home in the Pacific Northwest. It was located hundreds of miles from either Reno or Vegas and in an area no one willingly moved to.

Travelers didn’t even pass through because the village wasn’t located on any major highways. So they didn’t get a lot of outsiders gawking. And calling tabloid newspapers.

31

Stephanie Julian

Damn it, someone must have seen him out here and called the tabloid to report a Bigfoot sighting. Just because he hadn’t seen anyone in the past few days didn’t mean someone hadn’t seen him.

How could he have been so careless?

“You have beautiful hair,” Carrie murmured, sending shivers down his spine to his balls and his aching cock and bringing him back into the moment. “Did you get this from your mom or your dad?”

“My dad.” Actually, all males in his family had variations on the same theme. His hair was more brown than his dad’s, which was closer to Carrie’s auburn.

Her fingers combed through the ends and, even though he was done feeding wood into the fire, he stayed where he was.

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?” she asked.

“One of each.”

“Younger or older?”

“I’m the oldest.”

“Is your whole family so
tall
?”

He swallowed a bitter laugh at her innocent question. “Yeah, they are. What about you, Carrie?” He turned to stare up at her. “Where did you get that gorgeous red hair?” Her smile made his gut twist. “My mom, though hers is steel gray now and just as beautiful.”

Slowly he rose, catching her hand before she could retract it. She didn’t pull away, just stared up into his eyes.

She shook her head. “I don’t want to watch TV.”

His mouth dried and he had to swallow to be able to speak. “Then what do you want to do?”

She lifted his hand to her breast, rubbing his knuckles over her pebbled nipple through his shirt. Her teeth bit into her bottom lip as she took a deep breath.

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Size Matters

Okay, he could do that.

He lifted his other hand to join the first and watched her eyes flutter closed as her lips parted. Pinching her nipples through the soft cotton, he teased the already hard tips until she moaned.

She liked him to pinch hard rather than soft, to knead the firm mounds rather than caress. He’d learned that much about her already. He wanted to know everything.

Her head dropped back, exposing her throat and he angled his head so he could nip at the soft skin below her ear. She had cute ears, small and perfectly round, unmarked by piercings. She didn’t have any other jewelry on her body except for a small silver ring on her right index toe that he’d only noticed a few minutes ago.

With his mouth still tasting her, he drew in a deep breath and noticed only the scent of vanilla lotion on her skin. She didn’t wear any makeup, which she didn’t need anyway.

Natural, fresh and refreshingly sexually open.

Was this his lucky day or what?

The answer was “Hell, yes” when she placed her hands on his hips and started a slow, sensual exploration of his skin. She touched every inch of exposed flesh she could reach, from his shoulders to his arms to his wrists. Her hands skimmed down his back to just above his jeans.

He groaned against her throat when her fingers slid around to the front, scratching lightly at the skin low on his stomach.

And when he felt her reach lower, his cock strained to break free of the waistband of his jeans. But still she didn’t touch him.

Just when he thought he couldn’t take it anymore, she slid her hands those few extra inches to the button on his jeans. But she didn’t unbutton them.

He froze, waiting for her next move.

Which didn’t come.

33

Stephanie Julian

Instead, she tilted her head farther to the side and rolled her shoulder.

Ah. He strung kisses along her neck until he reached her jaw then followed the line of her jaw to her temple. Her hands responded by teasing his abdomen just above the waistband of his jeans.

Okay, she didn’t want to play board games, but this game was even better.

Keeping one hand on her breast, he slid the other down her side and around the back to smooth over her ass. On the downward glide, he caught the fabric of the boxers she wore between his fingers and gave a good tug.

Her fingers slid back to the front and carefully worked open the button before easing down his zipper. She had to struggle a little to get it over his erection but finally she managed it without catching anything vital in those metal teeth.

To reward her, he kissed her forehead and shoved the boxers off her hips, drawing his hand around to the front to stroke through the fine hair between her legs.

It was her turn to shudder, pressing her face against his chest as her hands froze in the process of pulling his jeans off his hips.

He stilled his fingers.

“Two can play this game,” she said.

“I thought we were.”

He felt her smile brush against his chest, then her tongue slicked out to lap at his skin. A shiver rattled his body and his hands flexed on her breast and her mound.

And it wasn’t a game anymore, unless she considered driving him out of his mind a game.

“Carrie.”

He didn’t know what else to say, only that he needed her to do something.

Anything.

“Tim.”

“I want your mouth on me.”

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Size Matters

“Where do you want my mouth?” Her voice flowed like warm oil over his skin.

“Here?”

His breath stilled as her lips brushed across his right shoulder.

His fingers slid a little closer to her clit. “No.”

“Here.” Her mouth slid down to his nipple, her tongue flicking over the hard nub, making him groan at the sensation.

“On my cock.”

“I think that can be arranged.”

With a shove, she pushed his jeans as far down his legs as they could go. Then she wrapped one hand around his shaft while the other cupped his balls.

And went to her knees.

His head fell back as his hands gripped her shoulders. He didn’t want to force her to do something she didn’t want to do but—

Her mouth enclosed the tip of his shaft in moist heat, forcing a groan from deep in his chest. Fire shot from his balls, up his spine and into his head, where synapses in his brain began to spark.

She took him deeper in increments, working her way down his shaft with a lazy pace. Sweat beaded on his forehead when she finally reached the root and started to work her way back up.

Her tongue flicked over the head like a lash before she sucked hard. His groan echoed through the room as her hands caressed his balls with a light touch, a direct counterpoint to the fierce suction.

She worked him with her mouth, his brain going completely blank, able only to process pleasure.

When she finally released him, he took a deep breath and opened his eyes to find her staring straight into his.

35

Stephanie Julian

Those beautiful green eyes broke his control and he grabbed her around the waist, pulling her up against him and smashing his lips down on hers.

She sighed into his mouth, as if she’d been waiting forever for him to kiss her.

He tore the boxer shorts off her legs then had to release her mouth to get her shirt off. Before the shirt hit the floor, he grabbed her close again, her warm skin so damn soft against his.