Page 7 of Auctioned to the Mountain Man

The scent is stupidly good, all earthy and sharp, clinging to my fingers even as I rub it over my hair and collarbones.

What a mistake that is.

The suds slide down my stomach and hips as I inhale deeply, and suddenly my nipples are tight little points, sensitive against the steam. I grit my teeth.

Don’t. Don’t you dare, Lilian.

But, despite my mental scolding, it isn’t enough. My traitorous hands keep moving, soap slick between my thighs now, and—oh.

It’s pathetic. Twenty-three and still a virgin, still so starved for touch that even washing myself feels illicit. The water’s loud enough to drown out any shaky breaths, but not the heat pooling low in my belly.

Not the way my hips twitch when I remember how Silas looked in the doorway earlier—all broad shoulders and rough hands, watching me with those unreadable eyes.

Is he even aware of how he was looking at me?

My fingers press harder. My teeth dig deeper into my bottom lip as I barely contain my moan.

I shouldn’t. Not here. Not while thinking of him. But my body doesn’t care about shame, doesn’t care that I’m borrowing his soap or his bed.

The climax hits fast and clumsy, my forehead thumping against the tile as my knees nearly buckle.

Panting hard, my clit throbs like it’s hardly satisfied.I’mhardly satisfied.

When I finally turn off the water, my skin is scalded red. Running fingers through my slick hair, I push it all out of my face and soak in what I’d just done.

This is no good. I can’t hate the guy and then get off with him in my mind at the same time. This is seriously no good. How am I going to be able to look him in the eye now?

Finding the world’s fluffiest towels inside a closet, I take my time cooling off. The flush on my skin can’t entirely be blamed on the hot water. I need to calm down before I see him, or else he’ll read me like a book.

Once I’m dressed and ready to take on the day, I work my way by finding my way around his house. Through the dark, it’s a challenge in itself. Thanks to the distant glow, Silas makes it easier without trying.

The smell of coffee hits me before the sight of him does. A giant like him makes the table he’s sitting at seem normal-sized. While he sips at his drink, he flips through the same gazettes we get at the lodge. Focused on whatever article has his attention, his face is surprisingly relaxed.

He’s wearing plaid pants and a tank top that doesn’t come close to hiding his tree-trunk arms.

My legs wobble, reminding me of what kind of thoughts were just roaming my mind. I seriously should be ashamed of myself.

“Good morning.”

His eyes snap up, and I hear the paper between his fingers crinkle. LikeI’mthe one who is stressing him out, his brows come together as he takes me in.

I know he said to pack some worn clothing, so I hoped a large shirt and some shorts would do the trick. I can’t take another day of burning up. Hoping that, paired up with the mountain’s cooler air, I’d stand a better chance at surviving.

But under his gaze? I can already feel the heat prickling back onto my skin, almost like he’s as bad as the sun itself.

“Help yourself to something to eat. Check the fridge. Pot has some coffee left, too.” His eyes snap back to his paper. “You’re going to be burning a lot of energy today.”

I get another stupid flutter, another pesky tingle. My brain is going rogue, picturing things he doesn’t mean one bit.

The only position he’s putting me in today is one that requires heavy lifting, probably.

4

Silas

The wood beneath my hands is smooth, the grain flowing like a stream under my fingers as I guide the chisel along the edge of the cabinet door. Large swirls merge together to form a delicate design. My knuckles ache from the pressure of each swipe, but it’s not a bad ache.

I’m one step closer to making a beautiful piece.

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