Page 31 of Rescue in Misty Mountain

Which is when I hear the knock.

I turn.

It’s Gage.

Still in those boots. That same flannel. Looking at me like he’s not sure he should be here, but he couldn’t stay away.

I open the door and step aside.

“Everything okay?” I ask.

“Yeah.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I… couldn’t sleep.”

I nod, understanding him all too well.

We stand in silence for a beat too long.

Then he breaks the silence. “I keep showing up.”

“You do.”

“I’m not sure why.”

I look up at him. “I think you are.”

Another beat. Another breath.

Then he kisses me.

Right there, in the middle of the empty bar, surrounded by old wood and whiskey and whatever this thing is between us.

His hands slide to my hips, pulling me closer, and mine twist into the collar of his shirt. The kiss is different this time. Deeper. Hungrier. Less uncertain.

Moreyes.

Moreplease.

He backs me toward the bar, lips trailing down my neck, and I feel everything in me lean toward him—toward the warmth, the weight, the want.

This shouldn’t happen.

It also has to happen.

It’s going to happen.

My hands are under his shirt. His fingers are on my skin. And we’re both past the point of pretending.

He grips the hem of my shirt and pulls it up my body. His knuckles graze the smooth skin of my belly, leaving tingles in their wake. I gasp into his mouth. Tossing my shirt aside, he pulls back to look me over.

I wish I was wearing something sexier than a sports bra and leggings. But based on the heat in his stare that’s scorching my body, I don’t think he minds.

“Damn it, Tessa. You’re gorgeous.”

He presses his mouth to my chest, sucking lightly on the skin. The hairs stand on the back of my arms. As he nibbles his way around my chest and closer to my hard nipples, I grip onto his shoulders more tightly.

“Gorgeous.” He says against my skin, pushing the bra down from my chest. He takes my nipple into his mouth.

I cry out, and my legs wobble.

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