Tempted (Two Marks 1)

1

CAITLYN

A human tracking wolves.

There was something backward about this scenario, as my mother frequently pointed out when she was on one of her ‘your job is too dangerous’ rants. It wasn’t wolves I was afraid of when I was out here alone, though.

The sun was just breaking across the tips of the east-facing mountains. While it was July, the patches of snow glinted against the rocky terrain. It was beautiful here. Breathtaking. I’d already hiked a mile over public land, ditching my car at the trailhead lot. All I could hear was the sound of my breathing and the wind through the evergreens. The air was cool and I was wearing a sweatshirt, but I’d be ditching it soon enough. The day was going to be a warm one, even at this altitude.

Excitement spurred me and my hiking boots on as much as the coffee I’d picked up at the all-night gas station. Not to mention the need to keep my grant. I wouldn’t just lose the funding for my research, but I’d be out of a job, and most likely out of Wyoming.

I had the tracking chips in my backpack, and months of data that showed the wolves—my wolves—were often on a big stretch of land owned by the West family. I’d find them, tranq them, and get the chips embedded so I could study the animals’ movements from my office. Keep my boss happy and again, keep that grant.

I walked around a puddle in the trail, then stepped over a large rock. A raptor cried out and I looked up into the canopy of trees. The light was muted, but I saw it swoop by, searching for breakfast.

I preferred it here in the backcountry to anywhere else. Even though Granger, where I lived, was a small town, it still had people. I wasn’t a curmudgeon, but people could be annoying.

I walked and frowned, because at the top of my annoying people list was Gibson West. The guy who owned the land I was approaching. I’d searched online and got his details, written him a thorough email about my wolf research, how it was being compiled for a paper—hopefully to be published with distinction—and asked if I could go on his land to track wolves.

He’d replied and said no.

I kicked a pebble on the path as I thought of the one sentence reply. I knew it by heart.

West land is a pristine wilderness not open to outsiders for research that might impact the delicate ecosystem.

I knew all about the delicate ecosystem. I had my doctorate in the decimation and reintroduction of wolves into the American West. The reintroduction returned the ecosystem to a perfect balance, putting the apex predator that had been gone for so long back in place.

Gibson West had offered nothing to indicate he might be persuaded otherwise. Which was why I hadn’t asked a second time.

Nope. Instead, I was trespassing on his property illegally.

Hopefully, I wouldn’t get myself shot.

“I’m helping,” I said to a squirrel that froze when it saw me, then skittered off into the underbrush. “I wouldn’t do anything to hurt the wolves. What an asshole.”

An image of Gibson West popped into my head. Sixties, fat, old. He sat on his porch and took out rabbits with a rifle like he was at a shooting gallery because he was ornery. He’d spit tobacco juice into the dirt. Now, he didn’t like people.

I actually had no idea what the guy looked like, but it made me feel better when I thought of him missing a few teeth and being unable to see his dick in a decade because of a huge beer gut.

Then a vision of another guy, a guy I’d actually met, flashed in my mind. My nipples went hard and my pussy ached at what he’d done. What we’d done together. Wade. The one-night stand I had two weeks ago. Fourteen days. Not that I was counting.

Hell, I’d picked him up, and I’d fucked up. Meaning, I hadn’t actually fucked him.

Somehow, I’d gotten him to come home with me. Me. Miss Introvert, who knew more about four-legged animals than men. Although, the way we’d gone at each other… we’d been wild. Like animals. I wasn’t a virgin, but I’d never felt like that before with any other guy. And we hadn’t even had actual sex!

And that was why I’d been non-stop thinking about it. About him. Because he was skilled with his fingers and mouth.

I stopped on the trail, grabbed my water bottle, and took a deep swig because my pussy and I needed it. Wade, the epitome of tall, dark and handsome. And mysterious. And intense. And very talented… ahem, orally.

He’d gotten on his knees and made me come. Then he’d left.

No orgasm for him. Hell, I hadn’t even seen his dick except for the thick outline of it that went down his thigh beneath his jeans. Yeah, it had been that big that it went down. His. Thigh.