Page 28 of Another Man’s Treasure

“I like it when you call me that,” he says, only slightly softer this time. He shifts onto one elbow and glances toward the tent exit, twitching a pointed ear. Listening for a moment, he smiles and lies flat on his back, turning his head to me. “He’s snoring. We can hit the hay too.”

“Good,” I manage. “We’re in for another long day tomorrow.”

“Night,” Oz whispers so low, I can barely hear him, even this close. He flips over and punches the pillow a couple of times. His tail flaps beneath the covers, moving steadily. I assume he’s wrapping it around his thigh.

It’s just moments before he’s asleep, breathing softly. His tail spade thwaps against his thigh while he’s snoozing. Wind whips the tent around us, but I might as well be a furnace for the heat my larger body puts off.

Oz’s right ear twitches along with the rhythm of his tail. Outside, the faint sounds of Saint cursing reach me from the other tent. Something must have woken him. I grin at the thought of him being uncomfortable all night. What Oz said about him this morning did not sit well with me at all. Oz might have seemed a little dramatic when we first met, but no amount of drama means a monster should be made to feel small.

If today has shown me anything, it’s that, despite The Great Table Debacle, there’s more to Oz than meets the eye. I think I might actually like him as a monster. Maybe we could be friends when this is all said and done.

Sleep takes a while to find me, and the last thing I remember is Oz shivering beneath the covers. But when I reach for him in a half-dazed state…he rolls away.

Oz

The sounds of Erek and Saint arguing outside the tent wake me up. Or maybe it’s the enormous hard-on nestled against my ass that did it. Perhaps it’s the big hand wrapped around my core, warm fingers splayed over my abs.

Oh my gods, Wilder is spooning me in the damn tent! He’s snoring softly at my back, obviously still fast asleep. It’s toasty as a pizza oven inside this sleeping bag.

The moment I move, his fingers tighten, pressing into the grooves of my belly and sliding lower.

What do I do?! He doesn’t even know what’s going on!

Looking around, I realize I can’t say anything or scare him awake because we can’t risk either of us saying something to tip Saint off. Grabbing Wilder’s fingers, I gently pry them off me despite the heat brewing between my legs at being touched. When I move his hand, he grumbles in his sleep, a deep and unhappy sound. The bass in his voice lights me from within, and without thinking, I arch back against him, rubbing my ass against that perfect cock.

He groans again, lower this time, pulling me tight against him as his mouth comes to my neck. His lips are hungry, and I’m selfish because I give in as his hand slides up my shirt to lightly circle my neck. Rolling us, he partially straddles me, big leg coming between mine to part them. His lips roam along my shoulder, biting and sucking as he groans softly.

“Fuck,” I hiss.

The moment I speak, his body jerks against mine, and he flings himself off me. I whip around to face him, but his eyes are wide. He rubs a hand over his mouth.

“Fuck…I’m sorry,” he mouths, lifting both hands in supplication. “Thought I was dreaming.”

I throw a dramatic hand over my still heart. “You were dreaming about lil ole me?” Batting my lashes, I act all hot and bothered. Except I am hot and bothered; it’s just that sarcasm is my weapon of choice.

I…shouldn’t have let him do that, but gods, he felt so good against me. Big and warm and comforting. One of the things I realized about myself when I moved to Pine Gulch was how much salt-of-the-earth-type males appeal to me. In Rainbow, I dated nothing but men like Saint.

“I’m teasing… It’s okay,” I mouth back. “Really.”

His lips purse together. He looks so displeased with himself. Reaching out, I place my hand on his thigh and squeeze it lightly.

“I kinda liked it,” I whisper. “You’re hella warm.”

He offers a half smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Ready for breakfast, baby?” I call out in an overly loud voice.

“Always,” he half shouts, although he’s still got wrinkles between both arched, worried-looking brows.

This is ridiculous, but it’s what we’ve got.

We dress faced away from one another then exit the tent holding hands. His body’s so warm against mine—and I love that—so it's easy to sink against him.

Wilder’s quiet through breakfast even though we sit on a log next to each other. Saint watches us with barely veiled contempt, but he must be too frozen to say anything because he’s silent too.

“Gonna be a beautiful day,” Erek chirps once we clean up the breakfast plates. He looks at me. “Oz, you wanna help me get this gear back onto the mules while those two tear down the tents?”

I bark out a laugh but nod as I look from Wilder to Saint. They’re staring at one another like they’ve got no idea what to do next.