His thumb traces the curve of my jaw, and I know he can feel my pulse racing beneath his touch.
"Lila," he breathes my name like it's something precious. "I don't want to be the reason you stay if it's not what you really want."
"You're not the reason I'm staying," I tell him, covering his hand with mine. "You're the reason I found myself. There's a difference."
Something shifts in his expression, a wall crumbling behind those intense eyes that have haunted my dreams for weeks.
"I've wanted to kiss you since that first night," he confesses, his forehead touching mine. "When you fell asleep on the couch, looking like you belonged here."
My lips curve into a smile. "What's stopping you now, mountain man?"
Nothing, apparently. His mouth finds mine in the half-light, tentative at first, then hungry with a need that matches my own. I wind my arms around his neck, pressing myself against him,learning the feel of his body against mine. He tastes like coffee and wilderness, and his hands—those capable, calloused hands—are impossibly gentle as they span my waist.
When we break apart, both breathing hard, I feel dizzy with want.
"Take me to bed, Caleb," I whisper against his lips. "Not the couch tonight. Not separate rooms. Just us."
He searches my face, and I let him see everything—my certainty, my desire, my heart. "You sure about this? About me?"
"I've never been more sure of anything in my life." I trace the line of his beard, marveling at how this man has come to mean so much to me in such a short time.
Without another word, he lifts me into his arms like I weigh nothing, cradling me against his chest as he carries me toward the bedroom. I tuck my face against his neck, breathing in his scent—pine and smoke and something uniquely him.
In the bedroom, he sets me on my feet beside the bed. Moonlight reflects off the snow outside, filtering through the window to cast us in silver and shadow.
My fingers find the buttons of his flannel shirt, slowly undoing each one. "I've imagined this," I admit, pushing the fabric from his broad shoulders. "How you'd look. How you'd feel."
His hands catch my wrists, bringing them to his lips. "Show me," he murmurs against my skin. "Show me what you imagined."
So I do. With trembling fingers and whispered directions, I guide his hands where I want them. He follows my lead, learning my body with exquisite attention—the curve of my waist, the sensitive skin beneath my breasts, the heat building between my thighs.
"You're beautiful," he breathes against my neck as I arch beneath him. "So damn beautiful it hurts to look at you."
When he finally positions himself above me, I'm trembling with anticipation. Our eyes lock as he slowly begins to push inside. The initial stretch takes my breath away—a delicious burn that has me gasping his name.
"Caleb." It comes out like a prayer, reverent and raw.
"You okay?" he whispers, holding perfectly still despite the tension vibrating through his powerful body.
I nod, unable to form words as I adjust to the feeling of him. He's big—filling me completely, stretching me to my limits. When he begins to move, slow and careful at first, my nails dig into the hard muscle of his shoulders. I'm marking him, claiming this extraordinary man as mine.
"More," I beg, lifting my hips to meet his next thrust. "Please, more."
He obliges, increasing the pace, driving deeper with each powerful stroke. The headboard knocks rhythmically against the wall, keeping time with our ragged breathing and desperate moans. There's an intense look of concentration on his face—he's holding back, afraid of hurting me.
"I won't break," I pant, wrapping my legs tighter around his waist. "Let go, Caleb. Let me feel all of you."
Something primal flashes in his eyes, and he hooks one of my legs over his shoulder, changing the angle. His next thrust hits somewhere so deep inside me that white-hot pleasure explodes behind my eyelids.
"God, yes," I cry out, arching beneath him. "Right there."
He drives into me with powerful, measured strokes, each one hitting that perfect spot. I'm climbing higher, tension coiling tighter in my core. When his thumb finds my clit, circling in time with his thrusts, the dual stimulation pushes me toward the edge.
"Come for me, baby," he growls, voice rough with exertion and desire. "Want to feel you come apart around me."
The combination of his deep voice, skilled touch, and relentless rhythm sends me flying. The orgasm crashes through me in waves, my inner walls pulsing around him as I cry out his name. The sound echoes off the cabin walls, mingling with the howl of the mountain wind outside.
He follows moments later, his rhythm faltering as he drives deep one final time. His entire body goes rigid, a guttural groan tearing from his throat as he empties himself inside me. I can feel every pulse, every throb, as if our bodies have truly become one.
