Acceptance

She wanted whatever he was willing to give her—for as long as he was willing to give it.

Skipping lightly over roots and rocks in the trail, Josie led the way down the backside of the mountain, bearing east in the direction that she’d found the illegal logging operation. She was acutely aware of Ben’s presence as he followed along behind her and her mind raced. Having him there made it difficult to concentrate and her entire body thrummed with lusty desire.

---

This is a type of romance novel which I call “farm-smut” and features sex and love on the homestead, farm, or off-grid Maine location. To follow along with the story, receiving new chapters directly to your inbox, please subscribe.

Previously on Blackstone Mountain…

Anxious for her safety in the wake of her Uncle’s visit, Ben wastes no time
moving himself in at Blackstone Farm, much to Josie’s dismay…

Read to catch you up!

Chapter 11: Acceptance

Her mind had been so busy imagining Ben asleep downstairs that Josie had hardly slept the night before. It had taken a little self-love, rubbing herself to orgasm to attain any relief. Finally, in the wee hours of the morning, she’d been able to drift off to sleep for a few hours.

Gawd! How she wanted him!

Just being near him set her in a tizzy. The smell of his cologne mingled with a scent that was distinctly male intoxicated her senses. The way his t-shirt stretched across broad shoulders made Josie’s fingers yearn to touch them, explore his wide chest or run her hands along his muscled arms.

So far Ben had said and done everything right—yet, worry and fear still nagged at Josie. It all seemed too good to be true and she couldn’t help but wonder when the truth of the matter would all come out.

But why shouldn’t she enjoy it while it lasts? she asked herself. If this was her one chance to be with Ben, shouldn’t she take it and make the most of it?

“It’s gonna hurt,” she muttered to herself, not realizing she’d said it aloud.

“What’s that?” Ben asked from behind her.

Startled, Josie glanced back, “Oh—nothing. Just talking to myself.”

He chuckled and asked, “I don’t suppose you brought any sandwiches in that pack?”

“Sure did!” she told him. “There’s a spot I thought would be good to take a break for lunch in just another mile or so, if that’s okay?”

Careful not to mention his injury, Josie still worried that Ben might over-do it with a six-mile hike through the wilderness.

“Absolutely!” he beamed at her and Josie stumbled over a root, distracted by his smile.

Turning her attention back to the trail, she threaded her way down the mountain to where the Moose Marshes stretched across the valley. They were about two miles north of Trout Pond and the fishing cabin, bearing more northeast.

Following a game trail that skirted the marsh, Josie led Ben to the far end of the valley. There the marsh was deepest by some eighteen feet, and more of a pond than a marsh in this part of the valley.

With a sandy beach about twelve feet across and a mossy knoll under the broad-sweeping boughs of a grove of hemlocks providing a soft and shady place to sit, Josie pulled a quilt from the bag she’d carried on her back, spread it out across the moss and promptly flopped down, kicking off her shoes.

She was so tired she could have drifted off right there, had it not been for Ben’s presence.

“Help yourself to the sandwiches,” she said waving in the general direction of the bag.

Ben looked down at her with wry amusement before easing himself onto the other side of the blanket and proceeding to rummage in the haversack.

“Don’t you want one?” he asked.

Already half asleep, Josie shook her head, “I’m still full from breakfast.”

And she lay there awhile just listening to the sounds of the forest and the marsh, and Ben’s eating of his lunch.

She didn’t know how long she’d been asleep when gentle fingers brushed the hair away from her face and Josie startled into wakefulness. Ben was stretched out on the blanket alongside her, propped up on an elbow and gazing down at her tenderly.

Her insides squirmed at his nearness, but she remained rooted to the spot.

“Did you not sleep well last night, Josie?” he asked softly.

Josie gave a slight shake of her head and he smiled wryly, “Me neither.”

And then he gathered her into his arms so that her head was resting in the crook of his shoulder, her face against the rise of his chest as he lay back on the quilt gazing up into the hemlock branches at the dappled sky above. One arm wrapped around her held her protectively, reassuringly, and Josie found herself sinking into the embrace.

She marveled at the feel of him against her own body. He was hard and lean and well-muscled and her body responded in turn, the blood in her veins heating and rushing to pool at the very center of her.

How many times had she imagined being held like this by Ben?

She tried to savor the feeling, but her body yearned for more, distracting her.

Itching to touch him, Josie found herself tentatively and experimentally running a hand up over his chest. She just wanted to know what he felt like. A shoulder. A bicep. And then down to his flat abdomen.

When there was no response or reaction, Josie lifted her head to look up at his face, wondering if he’d fallen asleep.

But no—he was still gazing up through the branches toward the sky.

Josie let her head sink back onto his shoulder, disappointed that her bravery hadn’t initiated anything more. Every part of her ached for his touch—his kiss. In spite of his prior assurances to the contrary, Josie couldn’t help worrying that Ben might not feel the same way. Maybe she didn’t inspire those feelings in him?

“I promised not to kiss you without your consent.” Came a throaty growl, and Josie stilled, hot panic flooding her veins. “Do you want me to kiss you, Josie?”

Her heart leapt into her throat and it took everything she had to push the response out of her mouth. It came out in a tiny, almost inaudible, “Yes.”

Shifting onto his side, Ben positioned them so that Josie’s head came to rest on his arm, while the other came about her, holding her close against the wall of his chest. He drew a hand up to cup her face with his large hand and settled his lips lightly on hers.

Josie trembled, fear and desire warring within her and she gripped a fistful of his shirt for comfort, refusing to run from this.

Even if he was only marrying her out of some misplaced sense of duty or obligation to her grandfather, she wanted him. She wanted whatever he was willing to give her—for as long as he was willing to give it.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he whispered against her mouth. “I won’t ever hurt you.”

With that reassurance, Josie melted into him, a sigh escaping her lips as they parted to allow his tongue access.