Page 22 of Mountain Protector

“Feel better?” he asks.

I step further into the room.“Much.”

He gestures to the TV mounted on the wall.“I thought we could watch a movie. Might help take our minds off everything that happened today.”

The suggestion is so unexpectedly... normal. Sweet, even. I blink in surprise.

“A movie?” I repeat, like I’ve never heard the concept before.

One corner of his mouth lifts in a half-smile that does crazy things to my insides. “Yeah, you know, moving pictures on a screen? Usually has a plot? Sometimes people even enjoy them.”

I laugh despite myself. “I’m familiar with the concept, smartass.”

His smile widens, and I catch myself staring at his mouth. “Good to know. I’ve got a streaming service, or there are some DVDs in that cabinet if you’d prefer.”

“Streaming is fine,” I say, moving toward the couch. As I sit down, I notice he’s already set out two glasses of water and a bowl of popcorn on the coffee table.

Clay sits beside me, leaving a respectable distance between us. He’s close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from his body, but not so close we’re touching. He picks up the remote, scrolling through options.

“Any preferences?” he asks.

I shake my head. “Nothing scary. I’ve had enough real-life tension for one day.”

“Comedy it is.” He selects something I vaguely recognize, then settles back against the cushions.

Fifteen minutes into the movie, I realize I haven’t processed a single scene. The actors are just moving shapes on the screen while all my senses are tuned to the man sitting next to me.

“Cold?” Clay asks suddenly, his voice low and intimate in the dim room.

I’m not cold at all—if anything, I’m burning up—but I find myself nodding anyway.

“Come here,” he says, lifting his arm to create a space beside him.

I hesitate, knowing exactly what will happen if I move closer. “I’m fine right?—“

“Ruby.” Just my name, but delivered like a command.

Something inside me responds to that tone, and I find myself sliding across the couch before I’ve even made the conscious decision. The smile that flickers across his face is pure male satisfaction. As if he’d won something. Which I suppose he had.

His arm settles around my shoulders, heavy and warm. I try to focus on the screen, on the actors’ voices, but all I can feel is his thumb making small circles against my shoulder. His breathing, steady and deep. The heat radiating from his body.

Ten minutes later, his hand drifts lower, fingers tracing patterns along my ribs. I keep my eyes fixed straight ahead, pretending I don’t notice. Pretending my skin isn’t burning everywhere he touches. Pretending my breath isn’t coming faster.

“You’re not watching.” Clay’s voice is a rumble I can feel through his chest.

I swallow hard. “Neither are you.”

“Hard to focus with you sitting there.”

The admission sends a thrill through me. “Why’s that?”

“You know why.”

His hand moves from my ribs to my face, his thumb brushing across my lower lip. The simple touch sends electricity racing through me. I should pull away. I should maintain some distance, some control over whatever this is. Instead, I find myself leaning into his touch.

“Clay,” I whisper, not even sure what I’m asking for.

He doesn’t make me figure it out. In one fluid motion, he leans down and captures my lips with his.

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