Page 21 of Possessive Mountain Man

This time, she gets it, the log splitting cleanly. She cheers and turns to me, beaming.

I can’t help it. I grab her and kiss her, quick and hard.

She laughs against my mouth. “I like this reward system.”

“Keep it up and you’ll earn more,” I promise, my hands sliding down her back.

We split a few more logs before heading back inside, cheeks flushed, breaths clouding in the cold.

The morning passes in a lazy haze. More coffee, more stolen kisses, more quiet touches that say everything we’re not ready to voice.

I make lunch—a simple stew—and we eat by the fire, cross-legged on the rug, passing the pot back and forth. She tells me about her plans for the fall, for teaching, and I listen, soaking in every word.

At one point, she leans back against the couch and looks at me, serious.

“Do you ever think about the future?” she asks.

“Every damn day,” I admit.

“And do you see me in it?”

I set the pot down and move closer, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“You’re the only thing I see,” I say.

Her smile is soft, a little shy, and she leans in, brushing her lips over mine.

When she pulls back, her eyes are bright.

“Good,” she whispers.

I pull her to the sofa and settle on the ground between her knees to begin an afternoon of bliss.

As evening falls, and we lie tangled up in each other on the couch, a gnawing unease settles in my gut.

And when the knock comes at the door, it’s like a firecracker in the silence.

Elise startles, her hand flying to her chest. I motion for her to stay put as I pull on my jeans and move to the door.

When I open it, a blast of cold air sweeps in. There standing there, looking grim and windswept, is her father.

Fuck.

“Hell, John,” I mutter. “What are you doing here?”

“What do you think? I’m here to get…”

His gaze flicks past me and lands on Elise. Who is standing by the fire, wrapped in a blanket, my flannel still knotted at her waist.

His eyes narrows and his jaw tightens.

“John.” I run a hand through my hair. “It’s not what it?—”

“I’ll take it from here.” His voice takes on a hard edge. “Would you step out?”

“John—”

“Would you get the fuck out here?”

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