Page 14 of The Mountain Man's Accidental Bride
5
Payton
My mouth is still tingling from when he kissed me. My body is still throbbing, like a live pulse shooting from my head to my toes, skipping over between my thighs over and over, making it impossible not to notice the throb.
August is a smart man. I’m willing to bet that if he knows I’ve never given someone my first kiss before, he’ll assume I’m a virgin. My experience with men is quite limited.
I really hope something like that won’t be enough to deter him. I’m a quick learner. I’m pretty sure I kept up with him fairly well earlier.
August takes his sweet time, giving me more than enough of it to overthink everything.
When he returns, dressed in just a pair of low-slung shorts and a thin, well-worn shirt, the fabric clings to him like a second skin. The cotton stretches taut over the hard planes of his chest, the material sticking in a way that outlines every ridge ofmuscle beneath. The sleeves strain around his biceps, the seams threatening to give under the tension, and the hem rides up slightly, revealing a sliver of toned abdomen as he moves.
My fingers fumble with the buttons of my own shirt, the air suddenly too thick, too warm. His clothes are casual, effortless—mine feel stifling in comparison, the fabric heavy against my overheated skin.
“Won’t you get cold wearing that?” Even if it is late summer, it has to get pretty chilly up here at night. Or at least, that’s what my research has led me to believe.
He grunts as he makes his way next to me, sliding beneath the blankets. “I don’t normally have an issue.”
No freaking kidding. Now that he’s sliding next to me, I can feel the heat radiating off his body.
If I’m not careful, I might catch myself shifting closer to him through the night.
Unlike the future, there’s no cuddling happening in the present. Once August shuts off the light, we’re both left lying on our backs with nothing more to say.
Feels a little awkward, but neither of us is willing to bring up the kiss.
The quiet happening between us isn’t going anywhere. It’s thick and heavy.
Lying side by side, shoulders almost touching, both staring at the ceiling like it holds answers. The sheets are cool against my skin, but the space between us is anything but. I want to curl up at his side and just say screw everything else, but I also need something that feels permanent.
August has made me want a man who wants me. Not just my name on a form, butme.
He suddenly speaks, his voice rough, breaking the stillness like a stone through glass.
“Why’d you come to Willowbrook Ridge?”
I turn my head just enough to see his profile—the sharp line of his jaw, the way his throat moves when he swallows. He doesn’t look back. Is he really that curious? Does he need proof that I’m not some city girl hoping to get in touch with nature for a few days?
The silence stretches, and the truth feels heavier than the quiet. So I don’t answer right away. Instead, I turn my attention to him.
“Why don’t you like people?”
Now he turns. Through the darkness, it’s hard to point out his features. If I have to guess, he’s probably frowning. It’s like the question scrapes at something raw. The silence returns, thicker this time, pressing down on my chest until I think I might choke on it.
“Trust issues.” A pause passes between us. “Been burned too many times. Figured I’m better off alone.”
I study him—the way his fingers flex against the sheets, the tightness in his shoulders, like he’s bracing for a blow. And suddenly, I see him. Not just the gruff exterior, the walls he’s built, but the man beneath them. The one who’s been hurt. The one who’s convinced himself he doesn’t need anyone.
I think down deep, there was a time when he did want someone. What made him stop looking, and why in the world couldn’t I have stumbled across his cabin sooner?
“So that’s it?” I keep my voice soft, but it cuts through the quiet like a blade. “You just want to die alone on a mountain somewhere?”
“No.” His voice is low, rough. “Not anymore.”
The confession shoots through me, and I bite my tongue to stop myself from asking if I’m the one that has changed his outlook on his solitude life.
Rolling on my side, I try to look at him through the blanket of black. I wish I could see his face, to see what kind of expression he’s making right at the moment.
