Page 51 of Fake Date with the Mountain Man

“Listen, if that’s really how you feel, I get it. If we’re just friends and the rest of it doesn’t mean anything to you, then that’s fine. We can be friends. But I’ll need some time and space to recalibrate my feelings, okay?”

There’s some emotional proclamation that I should be making right now, I’m sure of it. A more emotionally adept human being would say something to assure him that he’s not alone in his feelings, despite the fact that neither of us seem to be able to get this right.

Instead, I take a small step forward, closing the gap between us. His eyes are pointed down at me, studying my movement, but his chin is still tilted up with his jaw tightly clenched. When I press against him, he doesn’t budge. Our bodies drag together as I plant my hands on his sides and push up onto my tip-toes to meet his mouth with mine. He’s making me work for it, assuming nothing about how I’m feeling or what I’m doing.

The first kiss is a whisper. A gentle grazing of my lips against his, leaving mine feeling tingly and desperate.

The second kiss is a plea. I’m begging him for something more. Begging for the type of kiss that I can tell he’s holding back from me.

The third kiss is an explosion. It catches me off guard, even though it’s exactly what I craved. Ryan’s fingers are at my jaw and tangled in my hair. His kiss is deep and hungry, demanding more from me.

My hands are at his waist, tugging him back towards my bedroom.

He pulls away once we’re standing at the foot of the bed. Cradling my face in his hands, he asks, “Are you sure about this?” while studying my face.

“Extremely sure.”

I will gladly forsake our weekly fancy pasta andShamelessnights for this. I will gladly deal with the awkwardness at work for the foreseeable future. I will gladly cope with all the unreciprocated feelings that I can’t pretend not to have afterward. All for this one perfect moment when things just feel right.

It feels like I need this more than I need air.

The tempo shifts when Ryan kisses me again. The urgency is still there, but it’s lurking under deep, slow kisses. It’s his way of saying that he doesn’t want to rush through this. Neither do I. If I only get one night with him, I want to drag it out until morning,until I can barely stand or think straight. Because if I can’t think straight, I won’t have to think about it being over as quickly as it began.

Ryan’s fingers travel up my hips and under my shirt. They trail up my spine, dragging my shirt along with them as he lifts it over my head. My choice of bras is a regrettable beige number, but I don’t have time to give it any thought before Ryan releases the clasp and drags the straps down my arms, exposing my pink, pebbled nipples.

Suddenly, he isn’t the same man I’ve spent the last few weeks with. The proximity is familiar – his warmth, his scent – but his features are rearranged into an expression I’ve only seen once before. It’s the same look that he had on his face when he kissed me in my apartment weeks ago. The same look I imagine at night when I’m testing the limits of the extended warranty on my vibrator.

Strong, rough fingers slide down my ribcage, hooking around both sides of my leggings and panties and peeling them down my legs. His mouth explores all the newly exposed skin, wandering from my stomach to my hip bones to the ticklish crease of my inner thigh. When he gets close to the center of my legs, his hot breath hovers there but he doesn’t touch me.

I want to scream, beg, and plead for more as I brace myself with one hand planted on his shoulder and the other in his hair.

Taking off someone else’s skin-tight leggings is never an elegant affair, and this is no exception. I stumble back and plop onto the bed as Ryan yanks them off my ankles. The look on his face is so focused and intent that it makes me laugh, which draws out Ryan’s devious little smirk.

He stands in front of me as he reaches for my hands and pulls me up off the bed. I’m standing completely naked in front of him, while Ryan is still fully dressed. For once, I’m not blushing.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Ryan says as he steps back and looks at me.

I shrink a little under his gaze. Guys have complimented my looks before, but the look on Ryan’s face tells me that he’s not just talking about that. He’s turning me inside out and holding me in place with his heated gaze.

Is this what it’s like to be with Ryan? Are these the things he says to other women when he’s alone with them? Even if it is Ryan’s boilerplate seduction method, it’s working. And some weird, sad little part of me knows that I’ll hold onto the memory of this exact moment for far too long. Long after he’s forgotten about this night, long after all the fallout from what we’re about to do…I’ll still feel heat and hunger when I think of the way that Ryan is looking at me right now.

“Marlow,” he says softly, “come back.”

I haven’t moved. He’s not talking about that. He knows that my mind has wandered away from the present.

One of us takes a step forward, but I’m not sure who. All of my attention is wrapped up in Ryan as he tugs his shirt over his head. Inches of warm, tanned skin appear before me. There are ridges and valleys of muscles that I never even knew could exist. I want to run my tongue along each one and see if his skin tastes like the sunlight that colored it. His arms bulge with straps of muscle and coils of veins that wrap around them. When he undoes his belt and slides his pants off, there’s a hint of smooth, hard muscle that starts at his hips and plunges down toward the middle, where his erection strains against his boxer briefs.

Even though I can’t see it yet, I can feel the weight of him against my palm. I can imagine exactly how it would feel to take him in my hand, my mouth, my…other places.

I am about to see Ryan naked. Some tiny, masochistic part of my brain wants to draw this moment out forever. The larger,hornier part of my brain wants to peel his boxers off with my teeth.

Ryan smirks up at me, sensing my anticipation as he slides off his boxers and takes a step towards me. Suddenly, I’m falling back onto the bed and Ryan is tracing a path up my bare thigh, whisper-light and completely at odds with the gruff, strained voice telling me to spread my legs. When I do, he stares unabashedly at me and lets out a deep, quiet groan.

Then he is between my legs. His hands kneading at my thighs and his hot breath right there at my core. He teases me, kissing the crease of my inner thighs until I’m needy and breathless. When Ryan’s tongue finally swirls around my clit, my back arches in a silent plea for more.

But my brain betrays my body, freezing up at the intimate contact, reminding me that I never finish this way. It always takes too long for me to get there, and every man I’ve ever been with has given up long before it happened.

Of course, no other man I’ve ever been with has done the things that Ryan is doing to me right now. Just as I start to shrink away and let my brain win instead of my body, Ryan slips his fingers inside of me and he tilts his head up to speak, letting his breath wash over my wet, slippery skin. His voice thunders through me.

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