Skin (McCullough Mountain 2)

Erotic Romance

Secret Cravings Publishing

www.secretcravingspublishing.com

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2013 © Lydia Michaels

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A Secret Cravings Publishing Book

Erotic Romance

Skin

Copyright © 2013 Lydia Michaels

E-book ISBN: 978-1-61885-845-0

First E-book Publication: August 2013

Cover design by Dawné Dominique

Edited by Elise Hepner

Proofread by Courtney Karmiller

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Secret Cravings Publishing

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This book is dedicated to you. Yes, you, the
one holding the book. Why? Because there was a time when someone
said something to or about you that made you feel slightly bad,
perhaps slightly ugly, or a little bit fat. And it hurt. I’m
dedicating this book to you, because I, too, know what that feels
like and I’m here to tell you that YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL! Beauty comes
in all shapes, colors, and sizes and don’t ever allow anyone to
convince you otherwise.

Xo,

Lydia

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Best wishes,

Beth Walker

“Shit.”

The uneven flapping of rubber slapped
against the dirt road and Finnegan McCullough tugged the battered
wheel of his truck, hauling his flatbed to the shoulder. That was
the second tire he’d lost in a month. The roads on their family
property were eaten up from a long, icy winter.

Climbing out of the truck, his yellow work
boots stomped over the dried, packed clay as he took in the
damage.

“Bloody hell.” There was no patching
that.

From the bed of the truck, he grabbed the
jack and donut. Heat beat through his flannel as he dropped to his
knees and—

What was that sound?

He paused. This far out in the woods there
were only bears and no bear he’d ever seen had made noises like
that. His lungs stilled as he tilted his head, focusing on the
sound. The slow buzz of insects and then—
there it was
—soft,
breathy pants, a steady pulse of soft taps. It sounded
like…fucking.

Narrowing his eyes, he squinted at the
horizon as the late afternoon sun pierced the green canopy. He
turned, but saw no one. Abandoning the jack and spare, he stood and
beat the ginger dust off his knees. Whoever was getting their
jollies in his family’s woods was about to be interrupted. This was
private property.

His long, clipped strides rounded the truck
and came up short. The noise was coming from a dense part of the
woods where a narrow path was rutted into the earth. A twig snapped
under his foot as he brushed aside a fern and stepped onto the
rough trail. Too late.

Something big slammed into him and white
light flashed behind his eyes as he stumbled backward. Pain
exploded in his face like when one is blindsided with a basketball.
There was a shrill scream.

“Son of a bitch!” His fingers pressed into
his eyes as he waited for the sharp smarting to dissipate. The
screaming wasn’t helping matters.

Cracking his eyelids, he took in the
panicked screamer as her body twisted to flee, only to land roughly
on the gravel. She twisted again and continued to scream. Her chest
moved under a cotton tank top. A trail of sweat worked its way down
her flushed cheeks where the threads of earplugs hung.

When she continued to shriek and scrambled
to her feet, he yanked out an ear bud and snapped,
“What the
hell are you doing?”

She hurdled back, her breasts heaving as she
threw up her arms. “Don’t touch me!”

He scowled. “Don’t touch you? You nearly
broke my nose and you’re on
my
property. I could shoot you
if I wanted.”

Her rosy cheeks paled and her blue eyes went
as wide as saucers. Full, pink lips opened and closed like a trout.
Scrambling to her feet, she glanced over her shoulder. Her flaxen
ponytail, dark with perspiration, swished and smacked him in the
face. Her panicked eyes glanced back at him and she bolted past
him.

“
Hey!”

Her round, little form burst through the
trees and he cursed. Where the hell was she going now? Cursing, he
took off after her. Nothing like chasing some broad after nine
hours of sweating his balls off in the lumberyard.

His truck cut off her escape and his fingers
latched onto her arm. Slamming her back into the rusted door, she
screamed again and he winced.

Her panicked cries only cut off when he
shook her. “Stop screaming!”

“Please don’t hurt me!” she babbled.

He frowned. “Who are you?”

“Mmm—Mallory. Mallory Fenton.”

“What are you doing on my property, Mallory
Fenton?”

“I didn’t realize it was private property. I
was jogging in the community park and must’ve gotten confused.”

“Jogging? The parks three miles from
here.”

Her brow rose. “It is? I didn’t realize I
went that far.”

He released her arm and stepped back.
“Well…this is private land.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

They had to watch for poachers this far out,
but she didn’t strike him as the type. “No harm.”

Her gaze traced over his face and her brow
knit. “You’re bleeding.”

Running a finger under his nose, he drew
back his hand and found a dab of red. He’d live. “Yeah, I was
nearly bulldozed by a rogue runner.”

She winced and lowered her eyes. “I’m really
sorry. I didn’t expect to run into anyone out here. Literally.”

“Well, maybe next time you might want to try
running on the high school track.”

Her lips trembled and she looked away. In a
quiet voice, she mumbled, “Sorry.” Her expression shuttered.

Did he say something wrong? Now that the
panic was over, she seemed to withdraw. They awkwardly stood there
for a moment and she shifted. “Um, I guess I’ll just head back the
way I came.”

He stepped aside. Her fist pressed into her
ribs as if she had a cramp. She didn’t look like a track star. Her
skin was flushed to her chest, which was notable. Her hips filled
out her shorts and her thighs jiggled as she stepped back onto the
rough path. He frowned. She wasn’t jogging. Her steps appeared
tired and lagging.

“Are you planning on walking all the way
back to the park? It’ll be dark before you make it out of the
woods.”

She sighed and glanced up at the sky. She
was still breathing heavy from exertion. “This is what I get…” she
muttered under her breath. Then, in a stronger voice, she said,
“I’ll be fine. Sorry I trespassed on your property.”

Center County was a pretty tight knit
community. Finn had never seen her before. She must be new. That
was probably why she didn’t realize this entire mountain was pretty
much McCullough land. He sighed. “If you can wait a few minutes I
can give you a lift.”

Her beaten-in Nikes crunched over the gravel
as she turned, her expression weighing his words—as well as his
serial killer qualities, he imagined.

Holding out his arms, he said, “I’m not a
psychopath. It’s easy to get lost in these woods if you don’t know
where you’re going. I’d hate to see that happen. I got a flat. If
you can wait a minute while I fix it, I’ll drop you wherever you
need to go.”

Her lips tightened. “Are there really bears
and stuff in these woods?”

He chuckled. “You could say that. I
definitely wouldn’t want to be walking unarmed at night.”