Page 11 of Rescued By the Mountain Man

His eyes meet mine, something new flickering in their depths.

"You know what's funny?" I continue. "We both lost the same thing. Our identities. Who we thought we were going to be."

"The difference is how we handled it," he says. "You chase the feeling. I avoid it."

"We're both hiding," I realize aloud. "I'm hiding from accepting a new future. You're hiding from any future at all."

He stares at me like I've reached across the space between us and slapped him.

"You don't know me," he says, with tired resignation.

"I know enough." I hold his gaze. "I know you sit up all night with strangers who've been stupid enough to get themselves buried in avalanches. I know you risk your life daily for people who'll probably never thank you properly. I know you pretend to be this grumpy mountain hermit, but you're actually the softest person on this entire mountain range."

"Careful," he warns, but there's a dangerous warmth in his eyes now.

"Or what?" I challenge. "You'll rescue me again?"

He stands abruptly, moving to the window, putting distance between us. "The roads should be clear soon."

The subject change is so obvious it almost makes me laugh. Almost.

"Rhett."

He doesn't turn.

"Rhett," I repeat, softer. "Look at me."

When he finally does, the raw emotion in his face steals my breath. He's fighting so hard against whatever this is between us.

"Come here," I whisper.

"Bad idea," he says, but his feet are already moving toward me.

He stops just out of reach, like he's afraid to come closer. So I stand, ignoring the protest from my ribs, and close the distance myself.

"I'm going to kiss you now," I tell him, reaching up to touch his bearded cheek. "Unless you can give me one good reason why I shouldn't."

His eyes search mine, conflicted. "I'm seventeen years older than you."

"That's not a good reason." I trace the outline of his jaw with my fingertips. "Try again."

"I live alone on a mountain with a dog."

"Still not good enough." My hand slides to the nape of his neck. "Last chance."

His breathing is uneven now. "I'm broken."

"So am I," I whisper, rising on tiptoes. "Maybe that's why we fit."

When our lips finally meet, it's like the moment before an avalanche—that suspended breath where the world holds perfectly still before everything breaks loose. His mouth is softer than I expected, contrasting with the scratch of his beard against my skin.

For a heartbeat, he remains frozen. Then, with a sound like surrender, his arms come around me, careful of my injuriesbut pulling me closer. The kiss deepens, ignites, his restraint crumbling as my fingers thread through his hair.

One kiss becomes many. His hands span my waist, thumbs brushing the skin beneath my borrowed shirt. Mine explore the solid planes of his chest, the strong column of his neck, the surprising softness of his hair.

"Jade," he murmurs against my mouth.

I don't care. I want more—more of his touch, more of the delicious weight of him pressing me carefully back against the wall, more of the heat building between us that has nothing to do with my recent fever.

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