Chapter 3

Andrew closed his eyes as he watched her.

Diana was lightly tan the way light-skinned girls get tan when they've been in the sun a long time and were passed the whole burning thing. That was odd for this time of the year, especially considering she didn't have the look of someone who recently returned from vacation. He was sure there was a story there. The question was, would he be able to get her to share it?

Finally, he couldn't help himself; this woman was like a fire; even with its warmth, a moth-like him couldn't just stay away, awfully, like he longed for her.

Though she seemed to awaken slowly, he heard her moan his name.

Fuck! She moans like a goddess. He thought.

He couldn't help himself; he tried his best not to touch her skin. Yet his hands burned a trail down to her shoulder. He murmured no sense of vulgarity against her flesh. Dammit, Andrew. This is stupid. He thought, but without warning, he lifted her legs and took the remaining little underwear she was wearing. All common sense was lost when he took a whiff of her scent.

Bloody hell, she was that wet? How could she be wet?

"Whatever you'll be doing, don't stop," Diana uttered with her eyes closed. He frowned. But then again, she moaned and slightly offered herself to him. A little growl escaped her lips as Andrew ran his warm breath onto her skin.

"Diana? Are you awake? Are you dreaming?" Andrew asked as he took a little peek into her still-closed eyes.

"No, for the love of guacamole, stop talking; I need this, I need to forget what happened earlier. I need you!" She whispered, her hands caressing her skin, down to her now naked folds. She touched herself slowly.

Dammit, she is making this too difficult for me.

But Andrew was lost—lost to his own desire. His eyes glistened dangerously. He gently caressed her legs and hurried through the place where the scent of lust radiated. How could she smell like a fresh flower in the summer and be so deliciously wet at the same time?

Lost in his insanity, he stroked her clit softly, his touch becoming more firm as he stroked lower to her opening and then back up again to her clit, coating a bundle of nerves with the liquid from inside her.

Diana moaned, "Andrew, please don't stop. I want more!" 

He watched her close her eyes; her features relaxed, yet a little moan came out of her throat. His mind spun over the events of the day. He had planned to kill her only half an hour ago. Now she moans on his old sofa bed. Slowly, Diana rolled her head and rocked her body with his hand. For a moment, he wondered if her brain had started to remember him as a neighbour, but her breathing remained steady. She must be too shocked, he thought, yet he couldn't stop.

Her moan made him confident enough to continue his invasion. He let his other hand wind into her legs, and his nose went even closer to her, smelling her scent. All rational reason went down the drain; he was lost. Lost to her smell and her whimpers. He stroked her hastily, and it caused her to moan again. She suddenly wrapped her legs over his head and shoulder, and he was shocked for a moment.

But then, his mouth brushed the lower part of her abdomen, and as lust shot through him at the contact, he lowered his head a little and began tasting her, licking and lapping her clit. He groaned softly and couldn't help himself as she groaned his name again and again. The scent of her arousal filled the air, intoxicating his senses. She was writhing and sighing softly. His finger and tongue pleased her, rocking herself forward and offering him more; then a minute seemed eternity, and then she reached her peak. Close eyes, sated with a small smile on her lips.

Then her movement and moan stopped. She lay still, probably asleep, and her breathing began to steady. She had to be so terrified from an earlier event that she was willing to let a stranger touch her, or maybe she just needed a release? There was no way she couldn't know what he was doing. He listened intently again; her mind was empty. Still nothing. She must be dreaming. now.

Fuck it! He thought.

He had to get out of there, or he wasn't going to be able to stop himself from taking her.

Andrew then covered her with a soft little blanket and quickly walked to the small bathroom, barely shutting the door before he fisted his throbbing shaft. An image of Diana moaning and writhing flashed through his mind. He could still smell her scent on his fingers. It only took a minute before the tension in his body exploded, granting him profound relief. He cleaned himself, washed his hands, and took a new pair of dark jeans before slipping out of the cabin.

"I might need to take my mind from her," Andrew murmured as he ran in a blur towards the distant waterfalls. He sensed the rough, brisk wind of the winter sleet beating down on his face and his back.

In the morning, Diana woke up, confused by the familiar room.

Bloody hell, if this isn’t death, then what the fuck is going on? She thought to herself.

Her hair was as chaotic as the wilderness—untamable and raucous. Her once remarkable golden blonde was now vaguely compared to a bird's nest, and any bows or clips that had once held them were long gone. She looked around and remembered that she was in her grandfather’s cabin, and she knew this was her room. 

“Okay, Diana, do not panic.” Stop thinking of a hundred nonsense questions per hour. Take a deep breath, and don't forget to cover your ass! After all, you only have one of them, she pondered.

The room was just tiny and clean enough to indicate that someone had attended; the space was just disorganised enough to indicate that someone was able to let their creativity roam free.

Long ago, this was her golden zone, perfect for how she was. However, her thoughts were empty. Like some veil was lifted, and she became herself again, lust-free! Or was she? But the sudden assault of headaches made her wince; the pain was unbearable.

I think someone took a baseball bat and swung it hard on my bloody head.

What a weird circumstance. Normally, her thoughts were swirling and turning nonstop, suffocating her with their whispers of worries and problems, yet she felt stray and baffled. It was like someone had lurked inside her mind, straddling the fence of her privacy. Oddly weird. 

Wait, is she dead? Or in heaven, perhaps? But if this is heaven, then I'm in deep sh*t. I didn't even have a bloody comb to fix my hair.

But the morning sun peaks in the tiny window, adding light to her hell, and the painful burn on her head was unbearable.

Every minute, her head was hammered with a thud heavier, and in every second, it felt like her slow death was near. The distress and burning made it feel like her mind was no longer her own. The hardest part was that she felt dizzy, and it felt like she was in a boat. It took her to the verge of consciousness but never let her fall into oblivion. She could still feel her body, even though she couldn't move it. So she lay still, gazing at the window of her awaiting death. Or it felt like it.

When she thought the pain was the worst of it, a new twinge struck. A harsh bolt shoots from her head and extends to her heart, causing her to arch from the bed. Her weary voice found itself a howl that left her fragile force. Her hands gripped her head when her veins felt like they beat harder than before. She pulled her fists away and shouted in horror when she noticed that she was naked, covered only with a cotton blanket.

Okay, she didn't expect that!

But hell!

Bloody mackerel. What the heck is happening? Wait?

Did I even wear nice panties earlier? What if this is heaven and I don't have one with me?

“Oh my God, someone took my clothes," she whispered under painful breath as she checked herself for any signs of pain and discomfort, yet none came.

She felt rather warm and sated.

Odd.

Okay, Diana, do not panic. Where the hell is your panty? Please tell me if you have it somewhere or if you are going to walk the commando.

Why am I talking to myself?

Who took my clothes?

"I did. You were shivering from fever and convulsing so I took your clothes to lower your body temperature." 

The Edward Collen—stranger, it's him.

Her neighbour.

Andrew Law…

Her saviour?

Why was he here? And why is he bloody hot and yummy? Damn! Those arms and those shoulders.

"What the hell happened? And why are you here in my grandfather's cabin?" Diana asked as she surveyed him.

Agree, he was hotter than before.

He has a peppered stubble, his atlantic blue eyes flicker with curiosity and gleam with delight. Yet, he had a dashing personality and a cosmic smile. He had bristly eyebrows, defined cheekbones, and a concrete jaw.

She noticed his musky earthy scent swirling around him.

This man is gorgeous. Beyond beautiful. And hot, you have to admit it Diana this man is a sex god. She thought to herself.