Page 41 of Montana Memory

And then, before I could second-guess it, I took a step closer.

Chapter 14

Hunter

I had to admit those kittens were pretty damned adorable. I looked up to say something of the sort to Jada to find she wasn’t looking at them.

She was looking at me.

She stepped closer, slow, deliberate, her bare feet soundless against the worn wooden floor. The hesitancy in her eyes warred with the determination in her stance. I could feel the tension crackling between us, hotter than the fire behind her.

She brushed her fingers against my chest, light as a breath, but it might as well have been a live wire pressed against my skin. My muscles locked down, my pulse a brutal thud in my ears.

“I want you,” she whispered.

The words hit like a strike to the ribs—sharp, unexpected, and impossible to ignore.

I swallowed hard, my jaw clenching as I fought against the visceral response surging through me. God, I wanted her. If Iwas honest, I’d been wanting her since the night in that cabin when she’d barreled into my life, broken and lost and looking at me like I was the only thing standing between her and oblivion.

But was it smart to make everything more complicated?

“Jada…” My hands hovered near her waist, aching to pull her in, to mold her to me, but I didn’t. Couldn’t.

She took the choice out of my hands. She closed the distance, lifted onto her toes, and kissed me.

Soft at first. Hesitant. Like she was waiting for me to stop her. But I didn’t, and when her fingers curled into the fabric of my shirt, when she pressed closer, the kiss deepened, turned urgent.

A groan rumbled up from my chest, and my hands found her waist, gripping her as heat and need tore through me. She was fire against me, her body fitting against mine like she belonged there.

She did. And that was the problem.

With a harsh breath, I tore myself away, taking two steps back like I’d been burned. My chest heaved, my fists curling at my sides as I fought against every instinct demanding I take her back in my arms.

My breath came out rough, uneven. Every muscle in my body was locked down, coiled so tight I was afraid of what would happen if I let go. Jada was still standing there, looking at me with eyes too raw, too open. I forced my hands to stay at my sides. If I touched her again, I wouldn’t stop.

“Jada, we shouldn’t.” My voice came out thick, unrecognizable even to myself.

Her expression flickered, something vulnerable flashing across her face before steel replaced it. Her arms folded, her spine straightening. “Why?”

I knew that tone. Defensive. Braced for impact. I’d rather walk through fire than hurt her.

“Because I don’t remember my past?” she continued. “Because I’m broken?”

The words slammed into me harder than a sniper round, hitting places I wasn’t prepared to defend. I shook my head, jaw clenching as I tried to find the right words, but hell if I knew what they were.

“That’s not it,” I finally said.

Her laugh was sharp, bitter. “Then what? Because from where I’m standing, this feels a hell of a lot like rejection.”

She wrapped her arms around herself, as if she could hold herself together with sheer will alone. And maybe she could. But I knew the truth—she was clinging to the present because she had nothing else. No past. No anchor. And now, she thought I was pushing her away.

I muttered a curse, running a hand through my hair, trying to get my shit together. “It’s not you, Jada. It’s me.”

She flinched, just barely, but I caught it.

Her face twisted, a flash of hurt so quick she probably thought I hadn’t seen it. Then, just as fast, she smoothed it away, shutting down. Going cold. A mask. I hated to see it.

“Right. Got it.” Her voice was flat, like she wasn’t completely in the room anymore. “You don’t want someone like me. I don’t blame you a bit.”

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