Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 121764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
He sucked in a hot breath, pinning my wrist before I could stroke him again.
“You want us to wreck?”
“I want you to wreck me.”
At the next exit, we were off the road and he was granting my wish.
• • •
I found myself wondering again about the stars aligning the next day when we pulled up to the Bechler Ranger Station at Yellowstone, because not only were we able to score a camping site in the backcountry, but we got the one right across from a hidden gem of a hot spring — Mr. Bubbles.
I was never the best at planning when I traveled, and sometimes that bit me in the ass. Reservations filled up weeks, and sometimes months, in advance for things like this.
We got lucky.
And I felt like that was the theme of the summer.
After talking to one of the rangers at the station, I grew more and more excited. What I thought would just be a hike and overnight camping adventure was now a trek to a hot spring that was one of Yellowstone’s best-kept secrets. It was where the river met the springs, which meant it wouldn’t boil us alive like some of the other thermal spots in the park, and it wasn’t illegal to hop in, since technically, it was the river — and swimming in the river was allowed.
We just had to get to it, which required a fourteen-mile hike.
After quick research and a shopping trip the day before, Jaxson and I were both loaded up with giant packs.
We had our tent, sleeping bags, cooking supplies, and food — including the various snacks I insisted on being essential, like Peanut M&Ms and sunflower seeds — plenty of water, rain gear, knives and multi-tools, a GPS, a satellite locator beacon, trekking poles, headlamps, water-treatment tools, toiletries — including toilet paper — bear spray, a fire starter, and more.
We also made sure to pack extra clothes and — after advice from one of the employees at the store — a pair of rugged sandals to help us cross the rivers, along with sunscreen, insect repellent, and other necessities.
It was only one night, but it was one night in the backcountry. Where I likely would have just winged it, Jaxson was more sensible. He decided he’d rather we be over-prepared than under.
Once we were loaded up and had our permits and camping site in hand, Jaxson grabbed a map and led the way.
“You look so hot with that bear spray on your hip,” I said, waggling my brows.
“Is this your kink? A backcountry hiking man?”
“You know my kink,” I said, and just saying the word had my cheeks heating.
Jaxson smirked, pulling me under his arm as best he could with my pack in the way. He lowered his lips to the back of my ear.
“You want me to tell you how pretty you were on your knees last night? Or how much I loved the way you moaned when I called you my little whore? Because I’m happy to relive the moment.”
Electricity zipped through me, the memory bright and blinding. I’d never felt as free to explore what I liked in the bedroom, never knew what I wanted at all. But Jaxson had known. He’d known without me having to ask.
I bit my lip before playfully shoving him away. “We have a big hike today. Save your energy.”
“Oh, believe me — I will.”
His smile was promising, and my body hummed with anticipation as we snaked our way through the woods.
Yellowstone was just… breathtaking. There was no better way to describe it. From the thick woods to the vast meadows, every turn on the hike led to another view that ripped a gasp from me. I couldn’t take it all in even when I tried. My camera was also completely useless. It couldn’t capture the way it felt to hike along the rushing rivers, or how magnificent the mountains sprawling along the horizon line were when you were standing in the middle of a wide-open space.
I pulled out my phone and recorded my daily diary, laughing when I asked Jaxson to tell me something good, and he said that if a bear came, he had a good amount of faith he could outrun me.
When we made it past the first couple of miles, I played music on a speaker hanging from my pack to help ward said bears off. As certain as I was that he’d die trying to save me even with that little joke he’d made, I wasn’t keen for us to have to test that theory.
After a few hours, when we had to cross over a bridge suspended over the river, we stopped for a snack and a little rest.
“Okay,” I said, crossing my legs under me as I handed a stick of beef jerky to Jaxson. “Would you rather…”