Skin (McCullough Mountain 2) (16 page)

Sweat trickled from her brow, as she found
her rhythm. Her body trembled, as she held on tightly. Her thighs
and calves throbbed the higher she went, and her arms were slowly
growing weak. Even her core muscles were feeling it.

Finn whistled. “Hey, Philly, you’re getting
pretty high. Don’t forget you have to save some strength to get
back down.”

She peeked beneath her arm and cursed. She
was really far from the ground. Her heart raced as a sort of
paralysis set in. “How do I get down again?”

“Same as you got up, just smaller steps and
shorter flicks.”

Her lips blew out a tight breath. Tightening
her grip, she flicked the rope downward. “Shit!” The slack put more
pressure on her muscles and she shook, terrified she was going to
fall. It was like pulling her leg from drying cement, forcing her
foot to step down.

“You all right?” he yelled.

“Yeah,” she shouted back. Then in a smaller
voice she mumbled, “I hope.”

The rope flicked again and down she stepped.
Climbing was work, but at least it was fun work. This going down
stuff was for the birds. It felt like days before she reached a
height she was comfortable with. Once she knew she was a distance
from the ground that wouldn’t kill her if she fell, her steps
became more confident.

When she finally reached the base of the
tree Finn caught her hips. “You made it!”

She was out of breath and trembling.
“Barely.”

He laughed and pressed a kiss to her neck.
She drew back, knowing sweat covered her skin. His fingers undid
the clip and she stepped off the tree. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s crazy that you do that every
day. I’m not going to be able to move tomorrow.”

“Told you it was a good workout.”

She practically wept when he undid her spurs
and harness. Collapsing back on the stump she let out a deep
breath. Finn loaded up the gear in the truck and she could barely
move.

“Uh-oh, we got a piper down.”

She gave him the finger and even that took
too much work. “How many calories does tree climbing burn?”

“I have no idea. Come on.” He held out a
hand and she gripped it weakly.

“You’re worse than a personal trainer. Stop
making me move,” she whined, hoisting herself to her feet. Her
knees jiggled like pudding.

“How you ever gonna run those Rocky steps
with that sort of attitude, Philly? Where did my tough girl
go?”

“You killed her.”

He laughed and they walked back to the
truck. “What do you want to do now?” he asked as he held her
door.

“Nap. Some crazy Irish guy woke me up way
too early and made me climb trees all morning.”

“Can I come?”

She stilled. Where? To nap with her? “Um…I
need a shower.” The side of his mouth kicked up and she snapped,
“You aren’t invited to shower. A nap, I can tolerate.”

He kissed her, a quick peck on the lips.
“You’re no fun.”

There was something wrong with her lungs.
They needed more air than usual and Mallory couldn’t seem to draw
in a full breath. The entire ride home she stared out the window,
afraid to look to her left. The truck filled with their mixed
scents, the autumn breeze laced with fresh air, and the fragrance
of exertion. The only way to describe it was heady.

When they returned to her place, Finn
plopped on the couch as usual and she stumbled into the kitchen,
mumbling some excuse, as she fled to the bathroom. Currently, she
stood under the warm flow of rushing water doing nothing.

Her vision kept returning to her razor, each
time zooming in with rapid succession like some horror flick. She
should shave, but if she shaved she wouldn’t have an excuse to stop
him. If she left her legs prickly that would be the brake light she
needed.

Her gaze did the crazy zoom thing on the
razor again. This time she swore she heard some Beethoven type
build in her head too. “Crap.”

She grabbed the razor and lathered her legs
with her peach scented shaving gel. Ten minutes later, the water
had dwindled from steaming hot to tepid and she’d managed to shave
places she’d never shaved before. For some strange reason she
associated Finn with smooth skin. Well, she had a lot of skin.
Maybe if it were super smooth he wouldn’t notice the way it rolled
and sagged in all the wrong places.

Frustrated, she flung the razor into the
corner and rinsed off. After shutting the water off, she grabbed
her towel and stood before the fogged up mirror. She didn’t need a
reflection to know what she looked like, but as she saw herself her
mood fell to devastatingly low places that she usually tried not to
venture.

What was she doing? She was smarter than
this. If she continued to let Finn kiss her he’d eventually want to
touch her beneath her clothes. And then there would be that awful
moment when he paused, only for a split second, but it would be
enough for her to know he stumbled across the disgusting reality
that was her body.

Her lips thinned as her throat pinched with
the need to cry. She wouldn’t cry, however, because crying over
skin was stupid. All of her life she’d dieted and all of her life
she’d continued to gain weight. It wasn’t fair that six months of
denying herself would result in a loss of fifteen pounds, but two
months of falling off the wagon would pack on twenty. That was her
track record, down ten, up fifteen, down twenty, up thirty.

Sometimes she wondered if she would choose
contentment with her physique over actual skinniness. She was so
screwed up. She knew she was pretty, but society had done such a
number on her she felt permanently broken inside. If she lost all
the weight that burdened her, would she just be one of those thin
people who still hated themselves?

Very aware that she was entering a dark
place of self-loathing with Finn sitting on the other side of the
door waiting, she tried to pick herself up. She hadn’t gotten this
way in a day, a month, or a year. It was unrealistic to think she
could get herself back to a healthy weight in such short increments
of time as well.

The horrible thing was, no matter how
healthy her body became, her mind was not healthy at all. She
wished, just for a day, she could know what if felt like to exist
without the pain of low self-esteem.

Her hand squeaked over the glass as she
wiped down the mirror. Her eyes darted to the lock on the bathroom
door. She sucked in a breath and dropped the towel.

Her brow crumpled and her shoulders sagged.
She hated her reflection. Her breasts hung heavy. Her stomach made
a pouch of flab. There was probably a six-pack under there
somewhere from all the sit-ups she’d been doing, but who would ever
know? Her hips were thick and her thighs were way too full. Dimples
showed where smoothness should have been. Then there were those
horrid little jagged white scars, marks from her skin
stretching.

Shutting her eyes, she tried to block out
the image, but it was no use. She knew it by heart. She thought
about Finn. He was so tall and broad and tan. He had cut arms and
those hands…he probably looked like a chiseled statue of a Greek
god naked, while she was built like a dowdy milkmaid.

Everything seemed so suddenly hopeless she
wanted to sneak out of the apartment and go stuff her face with ice
cream until the pain faded.

The steam in the bathroom dissipated and her
hair started to kink and air dry. She’d been in there a long time,
probably almost an hour. Taking a courageous breath that was mostly
hot air, she tied her robe and unlocked the door. Shaved or not, he
wasn’t touching her.

The bathroom door creaked quietly and she
crept out. Finn was slouched on the couch, sound asleep. She
tiptoed past him and shut herself in her room where she dressed in
cotton pants and an old T-shirt.

Emotionally whipped, she climbed into bed
and shut her eyes. No tears would fall, because self-pity was
worthless. Maybe when she woke up he’d be gone.

Her self-deprecating thoughts slowed and her
mind drifted in and out of dreams. She was in that foggy place
where the brain was still awake, but the body was starting to fall
asleep when she heard him enter the room.

Pretend you’re still asleep.

She barely breathed, as she waited for him
to say something. Completely aware that he was watching, she
mentally curled into a ball, but her physical body didn’t move a
muscle. When the bed dipped she stopped breathing completely.

Covers were lifted and his body suddenly
warmed her back, as he curled behind her into the bed. He must have
thought she was asleep, because he didn’t say a word. Something in
her softened as he filled the space at her back.

He was warm and strong and so much better
than her. She’d never measure up. It was only a matter of time
before he realized the truth and she was out a good friend.

The weight of his palm settled on her hip
and she prayed he didn’t move. At least her hip had a bone to keep
it semi-firm. Two inches up and he’d hit the land of blubber. Two
inches down and he’d find himself in Beyoncé’s nightmare.

A soft sigh filled the room. It was a
masculine sound of contentment and she blinked into the dim
shadows. How did he sound so content? Didn’t he see and feel what
he was touching?

Her body grew stiff the longer she lay
there. Finn likely drifted off to sleep, but she wasn’t sure. A
piece of hair kept tickling her nose and she wanted to bat it away,
but was too terrified of moving and waking him. She’d wait ten more
minutes then slip out of bed and find something else to do.

Five minutes later her eyes were growing
heavy. Finn’s arm weighed over her side and, although they hadn’t
moved, he seemed to be holding her tighter. If she could forget
about the shape of her body, she could almost fall asleep.

Wake up!

Her lashes fluttered open only to droop once
more.
Don’t go to sleep!

No matter how much she commanded her body to
remain awake she was losing the battle. She must have made it about
eight minutes before she surrendered and let go. Her thoughts fell
away and she sagged into the mattress, into Finn’s hold. Cozy peace
carried her away to a land of slumber and she slept like she had as
a child.

* * * *

Finn awoke and it took him a split second to
remember where he was. Mallory’s bed. He grinned in the dimly
shadowed room and snuggled into her softness. She was so damn cozy.
And she smelled incredible, like peaches or apricots or some other
girly shit.

Her hair was a wild mess and tickled his
nose as he nestled into the back of her shoulder. He didn’t want to
wake her, but at the same time, he did. He wanted to glide his hand
up a little higher and explore her curves, feel the weight of her
unbound breasts in his hands.

Settle down, McCullough.

Very aware that he was packing some wood, he
resisted the urge to flex his hips into hers. Shit. It was growing.
He tried to wiggle back some, but Mallory made the most adorable
snuffle sound and stiffened. She was awake.

They must have been sleeping there for at
least an hour. “You awake?”

She whined something between a yes and a
sound of distress. He gently massaged her hip and snuggled closer.
No point trying to hide what he couldn’t.

“Finn?”

“Yeah?”

“What are you doing?”

“Cuddling.”

“Oh.”

They were silent for over a minute. Then she
said, “I should get up.”

He tightened his fingers over her hip. “Not
yet.”

She sure woke up tense. The tips of his
fingers fanned over her hip and found a pocket of warmth when he
reached soft skin. Her hand snapped down over his. “Don’t.”

He stilled, not sure what to do. He was only
touching her side. There really wasn’t anything sexual about
it—sort of. “Okay,” he said in a measured, calm voice.

She lifted her hand from his and he moved
his palm to her outer thigh—nothing but cotton there. It wasn’t as
nice, but he was still touching her. He couldn’t seem to make
himself
not
touch her.

“I need to get up,” she said.

His hand abandoned her thigh and went to the
tangled mess of hair lying over the pillow. Gathering the stands
and pulling them out of the way, he kissed the back of her soft
neck. “Wait. Lay here with me a little longer.”

She didn’t argue, but her body didn’t relax.
Pressing soft kisses into the curve of her neck and shoulder, he
rubbed her arm and tried to ease her. “I like kissing you.”

“Well, I just woke up and I need to brush my
teeth.”

Ignoring her, he tugged the collar of her
shirt back and kissed over the soft skin above her shoulder blade.
“You have a freckle here.” He licked over the soft brown mark.

Her shoulders shifted. He wasn’t sure if she
was trying to nudge him off or if he was giving her the chills. He
continued to place slow, gentle kisses over her shoulders, neck,
and back.

She drew in a shaky breath and he sensed he
was breaking down her walls. Giving her shoulder a gentle tug, he
rasped, “Come here.”

When she resisted, he applied a bit of
pressure, and eased her onto her back. Her expression was blank as
she blinked up at him. He fit his body over hers, careful not to
crush her. Her unsupported breasts filled her T-shirt and there was
no mistaking the press of her nipples against the worn fabric.

His lips sealed to her neck as he tickled
his tongue up to her ear. She sighed, but her body still remained
stiff. When he closed his lips over the tender lobe of her ear she
gasped and arched. Trumpets of victory hummed in his head as he
caught a glimpse of the passion she kept so bottled up. He sucked
her lobe and teased the shell of her ear with his tongue. Her
breath was raspy and coming faster. Taking a risk he ground his
pelvis into hers and she made the softest gasp.