Page 8 of Possessive Mountain Man

Elise gapes at me, her breath coming in gaps through lips swollen from mine. Confusion covers her face.

I take a step back. Then another.

I drag a hand over my jaw, cursing under my breath.

“Get some sleep,” I say putting my back to her. “You take the bed. We’ll figure things out in the morning.”

But even with my back to her, I can still feel her.

Even when she closes the door to the bedroom behind her, I can still taste her on my lips.

And I know. I know this isn’t over.

We’ve barely begun.

THREE

ELISE

Morning dawns with a hazy gray light.

The storm has dwindled, but it hasn’t completely given up. Snow smatters against the window pane, but the wind is no longer as strong.

I’m tucked into a cocoon of warmth on the bed in a small bedroom. Hayes' blanket still wrapped tightly around me.

From my nest, I can hear stirring in the other room. A slow grin spreads across my lips as I imagine Hayes moving around the great room. Rekindling the fire. Brewing a pot of coffee.

No doubt looking sexy as hell in whatever he’s wearing.

It’s a sight too tempting to miss. Even if I am ridiculously cozy.

Wrapping the blanket more securely around me, I quietly open the door and stand at the threshold, taking in the view.

I watch the confident, capable way he moves, the quiet concentration on his face as he strikes a match. Everything about him radiates a rugged strength. It tugs at something insideme. Something that could burst in flames—like the fire burning in the hearth—if given the chance.

Rubbing my lips together, I can almost pull back the feel, the taste of him as he kissed me. I can imagine the way his hands roved my body, leaving a trail of tingles and desire with every caress.

I’d wanted to scream in protest when he pulled back and put an end to it. He’d all but sent me to bed like I was a naughty girl.

If only I could show him just how naughty I’d like to be.

As if sensing my gaze, Hayes glances over his shoulder. Our eyes lock. The spark inside of me grows.

“Did you sleep okay?” he asks.

I nod slowly. “Like a log.”

He swallows hard. “You should eat something.”

“Okay.”

He gestures to the small table. “I made some toast and bacon. You like bacon?”

“Only on days that end with Y.”

His lips twitch. “Go on and help yourself.”

I push the blanket aside and stride across the room. Keeping an arm’s length away, Hayes hands me a mug of hot coffee. Our fingers brush, and my breath catches.

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