Page 11 of Saved By The Mountain Man

I peeked an eye open, taking a moment to come to terms with the woman beside me. I glanced down at her, her brown locks twisted over my arm and over my chest. A soft smile played on those ruby lips, and I wanted nothing more than to kiss them, to wake her up just like Sleeping Beauty.

But this wasn’t no damn fairytale.

And she wasn’t no princess.

She was a lethal beauty who probably knew more about life than some of the other jackasses in the club. And lessons she didn’t need to be taught all because her father was an imbecile of some epic proportions. At least in my book.

“Mmm,” she moaned, stretching along my body. I had to dig my nails into my hands to keep from pouncing on her. She had a rough night and didn’t need me to make it any worse.

Well, at least she didn’t cry out as if she had nightmares, but the night was still exhausting for her, and I could let her sleep.

In fact, I should make breakfast. I don’t think she’d mind that one little bit.

With a mental groan at having to leave her warmth, I got up, pulled on some shorts, and then padded my way into the kitchen.

At least from here, I could keep an eye on her, or well, at least an ear. I didn’t want to go looking through her saddle bag for anything, even if she could wear it.

Though, by my estimate, everything in that bag would probably be a little too tight for her healing body.

I shook my head, not needing to baby her and set about making some pancakes and sausage, recalling how much she liked that because of the syrup.

Come to think of it, that woman had a sweet tooth a mile long.

I poured some juice and coffee on the tray as I finished up breakfast and made my way back to the room, seeing her gingerly sitting up, her back against the headboard and pillows.

Her hair was tousled and the shirt she had pulled on was the one I had on the floor.

And fuck me senseless, she looked damn good in my clothing.

“Breakfast for me?” she asked, grinning like the cat who had all the cream.

I had cream for her, no doubt.

I mentally shook my head and put the tray over her lap.

“Yes, because you need some good food.”

“I’ve always loved your cooking.” She poured the maple liquid over her pancakes and then looked up at me, a glint in her eye. “There’s other meat I’d like to pour this on too.”

***** Vixen *****

I licked the syrup off my finger, my eyes still glued to his.

I didn’t mean to tease him, but damn it was fun. It was almost as if he wasn’t expecting it, which was odd. Why he thought Iwouldn’t be into him, was downright crazy. Other than the age deal, although it wasn’t something that ever bothered me, he was sexy!

His voice was deep and gravely and always caused shivers to race down my spine. I could picture him talking to me, telling me all the dirty things he would do to me. And honestly, I could come just from thinking about that.

But then there was his body. He had muscles, but he also had abs, and damn it all to hell, he had some sexy tattoos. There was the spider web on his hand, the full sleeve of all the parts he loved about a bike, some on his back, and I’m pretty sure I caught one on his calf last night, which was new.

And to me, fuck-me-sexy!

There was also that beard that had always driven me wild. I want to feel it between my thighs, I want to feel it against my boobs, shit, I just want to feel it.

But beyond his looks, he’s also had a deep and old soul, making me connect with him like I hadn’t with anyone before.

Which is why it’s not surprising that I confided in him last night. Or that I feel so comfortable now.

With all that, it shouldn’t be a surprise to me, or really to him, when I move everything aside and then sit up straighter, pulling him closer so that I could plant my lips on his, needing him like I needed my next breath.

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