Page 16 of Possessive Mountain Man

She takes it, turning it over in her hands.

“What’ll you do with it?” I ask.

She smiles. “I’ll keep it a souvenir.”

“It’d be a shame to forget your first summer blizzard in Alaska.”

She lifts her gaze, her expression softening. “It would be a shame to forget this time here with you.”

The air shifts, charged with more power than the storm outside. She sets the carvings down carefully and turns back to me, her gaze serious.

“Hayes,” she says softly.

“Elise.” I tuck a lock of hair behind her ear.

Her breath hitches. “Please.”

“Please what?”

“Don’t stop.” She’s in my lap, her hands on my face, her mouth on mine.

I should move. I should put distance between us.

But I don’t.

I cup her face in my hands and kiss her back. Slow and deliberate.

The kiss is different this time—not rushed, not desperate. It’s deep, claiming, possessive. She melts into me with a soft sound, her hands sliding up my arms to grip my shoulders.

I pull her closer, one hand moving to her waist, the other tangling in her hair.

She shifts, straddling my lap as the kiss turns hungrier. Our mouths moving against each other in a rhythm that’s all heat and want.

My hands roam, sliding under the hem of the flannel to find bare skin. She’s soft and warm, and when I trail my fingers up her sides, she shivers.

She pulls back just enough to tug the shirt over her head and toss it aside.

I groan at the sight of her—beautiful and bare above me, her skin flushed, her chest rising and falling with every ragged breath.

I trail kisses down her neck, her collarbone, lower.

Her hands find the hem of my shirt, tugging, and I help her remove it.

Skin to skin, I suck in a breath. This is it: perfection. As we come together again, the heat between us is so good, it’s almost too much to take.

I shift, laying her back on the rug, covering her body with mine.

Our mouths meet again, desperate now, and my hands explore her freely, memorizing every curve, every gasp.

I pause, leaning my forehead against hers, both of us breathing hard.

“Are you sure?” I rasp.

She nods, threading her fingers through my hair. “Yes. I’m sure.”

I kiss her again, slower this time, taking my time, savoring her.

Just as I’m about to slide my hand lower, below the waist of her leggings, a loud crack splits the air.

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