Page 5 of Caught with the Mountain Man

Grayson didn’t speak. For the longest time, he didn’t say a single word. And then his gaze went straight to my wineglass.

“Maybe you should sleep on it,” he said.

My heart sank. He didn’t want to do this. He wasn’t attracted to me. It was crazy for me to put myself out there like this and think a guy like him would want to sleep with some twenty-three-year-old virgin.

But I had to keep pushing, just to make sure. “We can sleep on it if you want, but I’m going to wake up in the morning feeling exactly the same. I want to do this with you.”

I was being way too forward. That would turn off any guy, right? But he had to know I was not speaking as someone who was under the influence of alcohol. Sure, maybe the small amount I drank had lowered my inhibitions, but I knew exactly what I was doing. And I also knew I wouldn’t stop thinking about the fantasy of him naked, stroking himself while thinking of me, until I did something about it.

“I want you, but I also want you to be sure,” he said.

He wanted me. That was all I needed to hear. I set the wineglass on the table, then reached for my long-sleeved T-shirt, tugging it over my head and tossing it to the floor.

Only then did I realize I was not exactly wearing my most attractive bra. It was gray and polyester and incredibly comfortable.Sonot the type of bra you wore to seduce a man.

“Sorry,” I said, looking up at him. “I could change into?—”

My words broke off when I took a good look at him. His eyes were on my chest, and those eyes were suddenly heavy-lidded but full of intensity. It was an expression that confirmed what he’d said. He wanted me.

“I wasn’t planning this,” I said. “I could go change into something sexier.”

Grayson was shaking his head before I reached the end of that sentence. “It’s perfect. In fact, you could just take it off altogether.”

Oh, gosh. No man had ever seen my bare chest. Sitting here in front of him wearing a bra and jeans was no big deal. I’d worn two-piece bathing suits, so I could even take off my jeans and my underwear would have enough coverage that it wouldn’t be all that bad.

But beyond that… Well, that was new territory. A good girl wouldn’t do any of this, but I wasn’t a good girl tonight.

I grabbed the wineglass and took another long swig for courage, then set the glass on the table and stood, reaching for the snap of my jeans. We’d start with those.

My fingers were trembling as I fumbled with the fastening, but I finally got it undone and the zipper down. I had to look away from him and try to forget that he was watching.

I closed my eyes and lowered my jeans. They didn’t come down easily, getting stuck around my curvy thighs and then my calves. Bending over to push them down wasn’t a graceful move. In fact, it bunched up my stomach in a way that was far fromsexy. But when I stood again, wearing only my bra, panties, and ankle socks, the look on his face was my reward.

“Now you,” I said.

Basically, at this point, I was putting off removing any more clothing. It would take me a minute to bare my breasts to this guy. And him sitting on the couch fully clothed was not helping. But he didn’t waste a second, tossing his now-empty paper plate to the table, then pulling off his T-shirt and throwing it to the floor.

Holy crapola. The guy looked like he lived in the gym. But Rosewood Ridge didn’t have a gym. My guess was those muscles were earned the hard way, through manual labor.

I, on the other hand, had only been dragged kicking and screaming to a gym by friends in college. Other than that, and P.E. class in high school, I’d never worked out. A brisk hike in the mountains was the closest thing to exercise I got.

“Come here,” Grayson said.

He still hadn’t removed his jeans. But I liked the idea of not being on display. I wanted to be close to him when I got naked. Kissing and touching. Yes, that would make it easier.

I was all too aware of my surroundings as I walked toward him. The sound of insects outside the window. The smell of smoke, still overwhelming but getting better—or maybe I was getting used to it.

Was this what I’d been missing all along? This feeling of being alive for the first time in my twenty-three years? Yeah, this could become addictive.

He reached out for me and, placing a hand on either hip, positioned me on top of him. I was straddling him, the thin fabric of my panties no match for the rough denim that covered his lap. There was also a gigantic lump where his zipper should be, and I knew what that meant. It was proof he wanted me. Proof he liked what he saw.

“Do you want to go to the bedroom?” he asked as his hands moved up my sides, stopping just below my bra line.

I shook my head. “I want to do it right here on this couch.”

Do it. Was that an immature way to put it? No way could I use the “f” word, as sexy as he might find that. I blushed just thinking it. I wondered if I’d ever get comfortable with dirty thoughts and profanities.

“Your wish is my command,” he said.

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