Page 5 of Possessive Mountain Man

Get back there, my heart seems to pulse in my ears.Get back there and kiss her until neither of you can breathe.

But I don’t. I can’t. Even if she’s a temptation so strong, I want nothing more than to possess her. Claim her.

Make her mine, body and soul.

“Get a fucking grip,” I mutter to myself, grabbing the ax from the hook on my porch and striding toward the chopping block. “Man the fuck up.”

I chop and chop. With each sling of the ax, I try to burn through the desire coursing through my body.

Instead I keep seeing her as I left there. My blanket wrapped around her shapely full figure. Cheeks flushed from the fire’s warmth. Wavy dirty blonde hair a tangle of waves around her face.

And her eyes. Those fucking insane violet blue eyes staring at me as if she can see inside of me. Igniting an inferno of desire unlike any I’ve ever experienced and fueling it with lighter fluid.

With a final chop, the last log splinters. I lower my arms. Gasping for breath, I stare through the snow at the light in my window. Waiting for the haze to clear from my brain.

As if it’s possible.

It should be possible, damn it.

I shouldn’t be thinking about her like this.

She’s off-limits. Not just because she’s the daughter of my best friend.

She’s also the daughter of the man I owe my life. The man who once dragged me out of a burning Humvee and carried me to safety when we were deployed.

I wouldn’t be here without John. I should be able to look at his daughter without wanting to bury myself inside of her.

She’s his daughter.

His daughter.

The girl I once taught how to tie a fishing lure.

The girl who is now a grown woman. No longer a wide-eyed innocent. Now a temptress. All curves and confidence and something that calls to every instinct in me.

It’s only because it’s been so long since I had a woman. Dry spells are one of the casualties of living in the bush. So, I only want her because it’s a natural bodily response to seeing a beautiful woman after too long of going without.

Maybe if I tell myself that enough times, it’ll stick.

My own teeth start to chatter, and I grab my things and turn back inside. It won’t do me any good to die of exposure now. I promised John I’d keep his daughter safe.

His daughter. John’s daughter. That’s how I have to keep seeing her.

Back inside, I avoid looking at her by busing myself with checking the fire. I add another log and adjust the damper. The busier I keep, the less likely I am to think about her.

Even if I can practically feel her gaze burning on my back.

Even if her sweet, vanilla-like smell already seems to cling to me like a second skin.

“You live here year-round?” She asks.

Not wanting to be rude, I glance over my shoulder. She’s pulled the blanket tighter, and her legs are curled beneath her. Her bare calves peeking out from beneath the fabric.

My jaw tightens.

I grunt. “Yeah.”

“Don’t you get lonely?”

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