Page 11 of Healing with the Mountain Man
“We shouldn’t—” My voice is gravel, my pulse a riot. “I shouldn’t—”
Her fingers curl into my shirt, holding me in place. No fear in those eyes. Just fire burning away with flames gone wild, left to burn out of control. “Tell me you don’t want this.”
I grit my teeth. No point in lying, not when I couldn’t do it if I tried. “You know I do.”
“Then stop pretending you’re the one who gets to decide for me.” Her breath fans over my jaw, and every muscle in my body goes taut. “You want me, don’t you? Show me then.”
Damn it. The fact that there’s still a wobble behind her question drives me crazy.
I crush my mouth to hers before she finishes speaking. No gentleness this time—just hunger, hot and claiming.
She gasps, and I swallow the sound, dragging my hands down her back to haul her against me. She tastes like innocence and defiance, and I’m lost in it.
I’ve never felt such relief in my life before. At the same time, something gnaws at me.
Pulling away, her shaky breath tickles my lips.
“Lewis wouldn’t want—”
She makes this impatient sound, something between a huff and a sigh, before she’s standing on her toes to kiss me again.
Fuck, it’s so shy, I can practically feel the heat radiating off of her cheeks.
I move without thinking, my body running on autopilot.
I lift her, a rough groan escaping me as her mouth memorizes mine. The weight of her in my palms is intoxicating—warm, yielding, yet demanding. It takes only a few strides to pin her against the wall, my body pressing into hers, the solid surface leaving no escape. Not that she wants one.
Every rational thought screams that this is wrong—reckless, even—but her lips are insistent, teasing, her tongue tracing the memory of our last kiss like she’s determined to master it.
We need to hit the pause button before this gets out of control.
The words burn in my throat, but I don’t say them yet. Not when her fingers dig into my shoulders, not when her breath hitches just right against my lips when I shift closer. Instead, I grip the underside of her thighs, squeezing hard enough to make her gasp, and drag my mouth down to her throat.
I want to lick her all over. After hardly eating my lunch, I’m fucking starving. She’s the only thing that can satisfy my hunger. At the same time, it feels like a crime to get my mouth and tongue anywhere near her.
“We need to stop,” I growl, the words rough against her pulse. A warning. A plea. Because if she kisses me again, I’m done for. “Otherwise, I’m going to do something I can’t take back.”
Alani shivers—not in fear, but in a way that turns my threat into a promise. Her ankles lock behind my back, pulling herself flush against me until there’s no space left, just heat and friction and the maddening press of her body.
I can feel it—the damp warmth of her through my jeans, the way her hips tilt instinctively, seeking. She has to feel me, the hard, aching strain of my cock against my zipper, demanding more. Needing more.
Then she leans back, just enough to flash me one of those lethal smiles—the kind that melts every shred of restraint into pure, primal hunger.
Fuck. This woman is my weakness. Just her blinking those long eyelashes is enough to make me do whatever she wants.
Her teeth catch her lower lip, and she tilts her head back to offer herself up. The give and take thing she mentioned earlier crosses my mind. She wants to give herself up.
I should be a good man—walk away, resist the temptation. But the truth claws its way out, ugly and undeniable. I’m not good. I’m weak. Starved. After all this time holding myself back… I don’t want to anymore.
There’s nothing in this world I want more than Alani, and I’m tired of fighting myself.
For once, I’m going to give in.
6
Alani
Is this really happening?
