Mountain Man Soldier Read Online Natasha L. Black

Categories Genre: Alpha Male Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 64419 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 258(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
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The job I had was a good one. I wasn’t going to find anything better in a strange town. My dad and Gina would be here to help us take care of the infant. I even thought that Gina and I could trade babysitting for each other, so we could each go out and have a night of fun.

I was getting ahead of myself. There was no baby, and Aly hadn’t forgiven me. I let myself into my basement apartment and turned on the television. Feeling guilty for even thinking about her that way, I imagined Aly in my bedroom, in my kitchen, and in my shower. In each location, she was completely naked, her fantastic rump pressed out and up, inviting me in. I put my hand down my pants and jerked myself off, telling myself it was a necessary release after all I had been through.

Of course, it was nowhere near as good as the real thing, but it made me feel a little closer to her. I wondered if she was doing the same thing at home and hoped that she was. There was no tactful way I could ask, so I contented myself with imagining her touching herself in bed. I almost considered walking over there again, giving her one more chance to let me in.

I was beyond caring about my pride, and I would have done it if it wasn’t for my injury. That last hike had taken a lot out of me, and I couldn’t risk pissing her off and having nowhere to go. I would have to be patient, even though it was killing me.

I watched television as long as I could before the boredom got to me. Getting up reluctantly, I left the apartment to go wander the neighborhood. It was midnight, and all the normal people were asleep. I went to the park on the off chance that Aly might be there, but she was too savvy. She would know that I would take any rendezvous as an invitation to make love to her.

I walked around the track; fists stuffed in my pockets. I sat down by the playground and imagined what it would be like to chaperone my very own kid here. I could grab my cup of coffee and watch as little Linc or little Aly climbed up the ladder and slid down the slide.

After an hour of aimless walking, I went home to see if I could get any sleep. For some reason, all the drama with Aly had diverted my attention from my PTSD. Where I was usually hung up on every noise I heard, imagining that it was the enemy coming to get me, now I just thought about her. I remembered how she looked and how she had tasted when I ran my tongue along her shoulder.

I kept my boots on again but spent the night in the bedroom instead of on the couch. I wasn’t sure if that was progress, but it felt new and different. Danny picked me up the next day and I went through the motions, helping out with the deliveries. I didn’t see Aly at all, but I had some flowers delivered to the office for good measure.

If Aly didn’t forgive me soon, I was going to run out of money. It was amazing how much it cost for someone else to hand something to your lover. I could buy a bouquet of roses at the grocery store for twenty bucks, but if I wanted the same flowers delivered, it would cost double if not triple that price.

“How’s it going?” Danny asked when I got off the phone with the flower shop.

“It’s going,” I answered.

“You’re still apologizing?”

“Yeah,” I said sheepishly.

I wasn’t sure whether to intrude on her workspace or not, but in the end, I had no choice. I couldn’t sit on my thumbs, waiting for Aly to come around. The suspense was killing me. I walked up to the main house after lunch when all my deliveries were done. She had put the flowers in a vase on the corner of her desk, letting everyone know that she had an admirer.

I knocked on the door before I opened it, giving her ample warning. She set aside her work immediately, giving me one of the most brilliant smiles I had ever seen. My heart thrilled to know that she had been able to get past what I had done to her. I didn’t want her to be sad or angry. Carefree and joyous were much better.

“Were you able to sleep last night?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she said. “How about you?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you go for a walk?”

“I went to the park.”

“I thought about it,” she admitted.

“So you were awake?”

“Only until about eleven. I’ve been sleeping better recently.”

“Me too.” I hovered around her desk, not wanting to sit down as far away as the couch. “I was just thinking yesterday that things weren’t so bad inside my head anymore.”


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