Page 7 of Made for the Mountain Man

So, I take my time perusing the massive specimen of a man in front of me.

I lick my lips, eyeing the corded muscle snaking up his thick forearms. My chest heaves as I trail my eyes over his body. I blush as I glance at the front of his pants and over the waistband of his jeans to his fitted shirt. I purse my lips, imagining the abs behind the fabric as I continue up his body, gawking at his wide shoulders. Did he play football? Dear god. Did I fall in love with a Viking?

Finally, I look up into Brooks' warm, dark brown eyes and my brain malfunctions. I'm pretty sure my mouth drops open as I stare at the Adonis before me. His dark, windswept hair looks effortlessly sexy. His shoulders are massive. He told me he was over six feet tall, but he might as well be seven feet from where I'm standing. It's the first time I've ever felt tiny next to a man.

His smile lights a fire in my heart as he gazes at me with hungry eyes. He's staring back at me like he can't wait to rip my clothes off, and my body responds. My nipples tighten, and my breathing becomes ragged.

I suddenly realize I'm still holding his hand, and I've smooshed myself against him, my breasts resting on his forearm. I jump back, but he refuses to let go of my arm.

He steps toward me, wrapping one arm around my lower back and pulling me into his embrace.

"Violet, you’re more beautiful than I could've imagined," Brooks murmurs in a deep baritone.

I melt into him as I miraculously manage to move my other hand to his back in an attempt at a squeeze. My heart races, mypanties have never been this wet, and I swear I can feel the press of his hard cock against my stomach.

This is somewhat confirmed when he whispers into my ear with a low growl, "And I've imagined what you might look like every night since we started talking."

I close my eyes.

One option—and it's my favorite right now 'cause, oh my gawd, he's hot—is to drop to my knees in this restaurant and fill my mouth so he doesn't question why I won't talk.

Option two is to run, leaving this incredible man in my dust.

When the prospect of ending up in a jail cell due to public indecency doesn't factor into the decision, I know I've hit a total mental breakdown. That's what I'm having right now. It's a horrible nightmare where my dream man is handed to me on a silver platter, telling me I'm beautiful, and I can't say a word.

Brooks pulls away, grinning at me as I stare at him like a terrifying mime. "Violet? Are you okay?" He takes a small step back, still holding my hand. His smile wavers as he eyes me with confusion.

No! I'm a fucking gargoyle, Brooks.

I nod. And shake my head.Helpful, Violet. Well done, you.

Brooks shakeshishead in confusion. "I...um." He licks his lips, looking sad. "Are you disappointed?"

My eyes widen in surprise, and I shake my head adamantly.

Brooks nods, still confused, but gives me a small smile.

My breathing increases until I'm on the verge of a panic attack. I reach for the chair beside me, and Brooks releases my hand, rushing behind me to push it in. I place my hands on either side of my plate, trying to catch my breath.

"Violet?" Brooks' warm hand is on my back, his mouth close to my ear. "Are you okay?"

I nod. And shake my head again. Because apparently, the only way I can get through this is by making it even more confusing.

"Is it better if I...I don't touch you?" Brooks asks. His warmth leaves me as he steps back.

I take a deep breath and nod miserably.

"Okay. I'll sit across from you."

He's so lovely. What the hell is wrong with me? Why can't I respond to this sexy, fuckable man?MyBrooks.

I stare at the table, my heart rate slowing second by agonizing second. If I look at Brooks, I’ll start hyperventilating again. How long can he be expected to put up with this?

Lifting a shaking hand, I reach for my phone and type out a series of texts that have me choking down a sob.

I'm so sorry about this, Brooks. My friends set this up.

Without telling me.

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