Page 11 of Saved By the Mountain Man
"Probably," I agree. "Most of the best things are."
He makes a sound somewhere between a laugh and a groan. "You're impossible."
"So I've been told." I rise on tiptoes, bringing my face closer to his again. "Are you going to kiss me again, or just list all the reasons you shouldn't?"
The challenge hangs between us for a heartbeat before he mutters something that sounds suspiciously like "to hell with it" and captures my mouth again.
This kiss is different. Slower, deeper, more deliberate. His hands span my waist, lifting me effortlessly to sit on the counter, bringing us to eye level. I wrap my arms around his neck, fingers threading through his hair, marveling at how different reality is from imagination.
When we finally break apart, we're both breathing hard. His forehead rests against mine, our breath mingling in the small space between us.
"What now?" I whisper, terrified and exhilarated by the possibilities.
"Now," he says, his voice dropping to a low rumble that vibrates through me, "we figure out what to do about breakfast."
The unexpected statement startles a laugh from me. "Mood killer."
His gaze travels slowly down my body, lingering in a way that makes heat pool low in my stomach. "I didn't say we needed food for breakfast." His thumb traces my lower lip, his meaning unmistakable. "There are other appetites to consider."
My breath catches as understanding washes over me. The romantic novels I write suddenly seem woefully inadequate preparation for the reality of this moment. I’m reeling from theintensity in his eyes as he looks at me like I'm something he wants to devour.
"Oh," is all I manage to say.
He steps between my knees where I'm still perched on the counter, his large hands spanning my waist. "Unless you want me to stop."
Do I? This is happening faster than I ever imagined my first real experience would unfold. Yet there's nothing about this moment that feels wrong. Terrifying, yes. Overwhelming, definitely. But wrong? No.
I shake my head slowly, holding his gaze. "Don't stop."
"Good."
As he leans in to claim my mouth again, one thought flashes through my mind: no fictional hero will ever compare to the very real man about to show me everything I've only imagined.
six
Alex
Somethingprimalrisesinme when I kiss her. I've spent five years building walls, creating distance, protecting myself from connection. Yet here I am, about to tear down every barrier for this woman I barely know but somehow can't resist.
I capture her mouth again, this kiss deeper and more demanding than before. Her inexperience is evident in the tentative way she responds, but what she lacks in technique she makes up for in enthusiasm. Her hands clutch at my shoulders, fingers digging in as I press closer. She still smells like smoke.
"Alex," she gasps when I trail kisses down her throat, finding the sensitive pulse point that makes her shiver.
Her head falls back, giving me better access to the delicate line of her throat. I take full advantage, alternating between gentle kisses and light grazes of teeth that draw small, intoxicating sounds from her lips.
My hands slide under the hem of her shirt, encountering bare skin that feels like silk against my calloused fingers.
"Cold hands," I apologize, about to withdraw.
"No," she catches my wrists, keeping my hands against her warm skin. "Just new. Don't stop touching me."
I push her shirt higher, revealing the soft curve of her stomach, the edge of her simple cotton bra. Her cheeks flush pink as I take in the sight of her.
"Beautiful," I say, meaning it. She's all delicate curves and creamy skin. There's a vulnerability to her partial nudity that makes my chest tighten with unexpected tenderness.
I can’t let her be the only one naked. I tear off my sweaty shirt. watching her eyes widen as she takes in my chest and torso. Her fingers reach out tentatively, tracing the line of an old climbing scar across my ribs.
"You're... wow," she breathes, exploring the landscape of my body with careful fingers. "Like something carved from stone."
