Page 15 of A Very Grumpy Mountain Man

He walks me to the couch, never breaking the kiss, until the backs of my knees hit the cushions and I sink down. Kye follows, settling between my legs, bracing his weight on his arms so he’s hovering above me.

“You sure?” he murmurs, his lips brushing the corner of my mouth.

I nod, breathless. “I’ve never been more sure about anything.”

That’s all it takes.

He kisses me again, harder this time, and I unravel. His hands are everywhere—sliding under my sweater, finding the bare skin at my waist, drawing slow, reverent circles that make me shiver. I tug at the hem of his shirt, and he pulls back enough to let me lift it over his head.

My breath catches.

He’s beautiful—broad chest, solid arms, and that little trail of hair that disappears beneath his waistband. The way he looks at me like I’m something precious, wild, and breakable all at once makes my heart ache in the best way.

I sit up and tug my sweater over my head, suddenly nervous but determined. His gaze drops, and his breath hitches.

“God, Sienna,” he says, voice rough. “You’re… perfect.”

I don’t feel perfect. I never have. But with the way he’s looking at me, I believe it. At least in this moment, with him.

His mouth finds my neck, my collarbone, and lower. Every brush of his lips sends another wave of heat through me, every touch unraveling me further. I arch into him, needing more, and he answers without hesitation—his hands mapping every inch of me like he’s memorizing me with his fingertips.

When he finally slides his hand beneath the waistband of my leggings, I gasp and clutch his shoulder. He finds me wet and aching, and he groans into my neck, his breath hot against my skin.

“You’re killing me,” he murmurs, kissing the hollow of my throat.

“Then do something about it,” I whisper.

He moves fast—gathering me in his arms, lifting me off the couch like I weigh nothing, and carrying me toward the bedroom.

My bedroom.

But he skids to a halt at the threshold.

I frown as I look up at him. “Is something wrong?” I ask, starting to feel self-conscious.

“Yeah. What the hell is that?”

I’m confused as I look around the room. “What’s what?”

“That,” he says, nodding toward my bed.

“Uh, my bed?”

“It’s a twin.”

“Yeah, well, it came with the apartment, and it was just me.”

“We’ll have to see if we can make this work,” he grumbles as he heads over to the bed.

The moment he lays me down, something shifts. Everything slows again and softens. He undresses me like he’s unwrapping something sacred, like he wants to savor each layer he peels away.

When I’m finally bare beneath him, he pauses. “Are you sure?” he asks again, voice low and reverent.

I nod, eyes locked on his. “Yeah. I want you, Kye.”

He exhales slowly, stripping off the rest of his clothes. And when he settles over me again, skin to skin, it’s overwhelming in the best way.

He kisses me, and I shiver as his bare, heated skin presses against mine for the first time.

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