At present, I snuggle closer to him in bed as I reminisce about that encounter. I feel so special and cared for, and honestly, I can’t wish for anything more.
Owen nudges me out of my sleepy state, and I reach out to caress his cheeks.
“Hey, sleepyhead,” he coos. “We are going deer hunting today.”
I lean forward to kiss his lips, not wanting to wake up fully, and he surprises me when he deepens the kiss.
“You wake up so early,” I murmur more coherently now. “I’m having trouble sleeping because you snore so loudly,” I tease playfully.
“You should hear Andrew snore. He’s the loudest,” he retorts. “So, when are you getting up to hunt deer?”
“You’re so impatient,” I murmur, kissing his neck.
“And you’re so horny in the morning, pet. Come on. We’re only here for a few more days. I want to show you more nature.”
I grab his arms and push him away. Then my lover gets up and lifts the blankets away from me. “Too cold.”
“Look at the sun. It’s begging for us to go outside,” he comments.
I know that I’m not in a dream, but I also don’t have any idea about what’s going to happen when we return to our everyday lives. What if Owen suddenly realizes that what we have is just lust and wishful thinking? I don’t want to entertain the thought, but it sometimes creeps in. So, I want to make as many memories as possible while we’re in this majestic location.
Owen finally drops the blankets, and he’s sporting a huge hard-on. I gulp. That’s another great sight in the morning, but as I reach for him, he tells me, no. So, I strip off my clothes and walk in the nude towards our closet. I notice him watching me.
“I know what you’re doing, and you’re not the only one who can do some tempting. And we’re still going out and not having sex here.” He walks towards me and hugs me from behind. His erection, rubbing my bare back.
“But why,” I complain.
“Because I have other plans, pet.”
“Uh-huh.” I lean forward, teasing him more, as I search for a change of clothes. I pick my faded jeans and long sleeve button-up. Then, I take my time putting on underwear and my pants. I do enjoy teasing him in the morning.
“You’re making me crazy, Sloane.”
“I’m just getting dressed, Owen.” I put on my bra and polo, then start buttoning it up.
Owen goes into the en suite, and I hear the shower. He takes a speedy shower to wake himself up and puts on these dark wash pants and a navy-blue polo. Then, we finally leave the house to go to the woods.
Weeds, or plants of some type, crunch under my shoes. This is not the type of place I’m used to for a date. A fancy restaurant, yes, tromping through the woods, no. Plus, it’s slightly cold.
Still, I keep up — walking in Owen’s tracks, watching his broad back move before me. He seems entranced and quiet. Then, every once in a while, he will reach out and touch a twig or a branch softly, like he’s greeting an old friend.
“You know,” my words are loud, shaking the silence of the forest, “I’m not sure you quite understand what kind of woman I am.”
Owen doesn’t stop to look at me, but he does laugh. “Sloane, I know who you are. I also know what you need. Trust me, pet.”
Wrapping my arms around myself to hold off the chill of the air, I swallow my retort and remind myself of Reeses’ advice to stay open to new experiences.
“I’m open-minded,” I chant to myself under my breath.
“What?”
I forgot about Owen’s supersonic hearing and shake my head to myself. “Nothing. Just saying that you are right.”
I can feel his smile even if I can’t see it. “That’s what I like to hear,” he snarks.
About to retort, my words catch in my throat when we stop suddenly. Owen points. Apparently, we have reached our destination. It’s a pile of branches. Okay, to be fair, it’s more than that. It’s a rough platform made of medium-sized aspen trees that sits just about at tree level.
I’m not impressed.
Owen turns to me. He’s smiling. His grin is so big it looks like he has just led me to Tiffany's and told me that I could select anything in the whole store, not led me through the woods to a…platform?
“That is the worst treehouse I have ever seen.”
His smile fades, and the General almost smacks his forehead in distress. “Woman,” he groans, “It’s not a damn treehouse. It’s a hunting platform.”
My stomach drops. “Owen, you know how I feel about heights. I don’t think that thing will hold us.”
Instead of answering, he walks towards me and takes me into his strong arms. The embrace eases my worries. The warmth coming off his body reminds me that I’m safe with him always.