Page 17 of Healing with the Mountain Man
The cabin door slams behind me, the wind howling like a wounded thing as I stagger inside, half-frozen. Snow clings to my lashes, my gloves are soaked through, and my boots leave wet prints on the hardwood as I kick them off with numb toes.
Dean looks up from the fireplace, where flames crackle greedily over fresh logs. A cup is hovering over his lips, steam rolling off with the scent of chocolate lingering in the air.
Mr. Whiskers lifts from the ground, stretching out his body before trotting over. All he has to do is rub against me once, and feel the snow melting on my jeans before he’s long gone.
All I have to do is let him hear my teeth chatter, and Dean’s on his feet, cup abandoned and fluffy blanket on the ground.
In all but a couple of strides, he’s in front of me, peeling my snow-crusted jacket off with rough, efficient hands. His palmskates up my arm, his frown deepening at the chill he finds there. “You’re freezing.”
“I’m fine,” I lie even as I shiver.
Dean mutters something that sounds suspiciously like a disagreement under his breath, but he’s already steering me toward the couch. He collapses first, and I gasp as he tugs me down onto his lap.
After a bit of shifting, he’s tossing the blanket over us and thrusting his cup into my hands.
“Drink,” he orders, nudging the cup closer so the steam tickles my red nose.
The fire’s heat from the fireplace licks at my skin, but it’s Dean’s hands that really thaw me—his palms rubbing slow, firm circles over my arms, my stomach, my thighs. His touch is warm and sure, chasing the cold from my bones with every stroke.
“Better?” he murmurs, his breath a hot brush against my temple.
I nod, leaning into him as he wraps his arms securely around my body to keep me flush against his chest.
I take a sip of the cocoa, the sweetness blooming on my tongue, and sigh. “Took forever to upload those assignments.”
His chin rests on top of my head as he grunts. Outside, the storm rages on, snow piling against the windows in silent drifts.
Chewing on my lip, I tilt my chin to look up at him. His brows are pinched together, his lips pursed.
He doesn’t like me going out by myself in bad weather, but I insisted. I like to be independent when I can, and hey, I made it back in one piece. Even if I did come back as a popsicle.
“You know, I’m done for the semester. That means I don’t have any excuses to leave for the next month.” Bringing the cup to my lips, I hide my smile. “Unless I want to go stir-crazy, I’m going to have to find something else to occupy myself with.”
His eyes flick down, and his arms loosen slightly. My stomach twitches against the stroke of his thumb.
“Anything in mind?”
I hum and take a long sip. Swallowing slowly, his frown lessens. In fact, I almost make him smile with how long I take, my attempt to tease him.
“Not yet. Too busy trying to warm up.”
He cocks a brow at me, his gaze dipping to my legs, still tucked under me on the couch. “Still freezing?”
I bite the inside of my cheek, trying not to grin. “Why? You offering to help?”
His thumb slows over my skin, teasing now. “Depends. Where exactly are you still cold?”
I lean in, just enough that my breath brushes his jaw. “You don’t want to find out for yourself?”
His eyes darken, the playful edge shifting into something deeper, hungrier. “If I do, it’s going to take a very thorough search.”
Heat curls through me, warming places that have nothing to do with the fireplace. “Guess it’s a good thing I’ve got nowhere else to be.”
He plucks my cup from my fingers, setting it down with a satisfied look after seeing a lot of it gone. Then, he picks the first place to start his search. My mouth.
Slow and coaxing, he kisses me longer than he should. Like he doesn’t feel how warm my lips and tongue are, his hands decide to continue the search.
His mouth moves against mine with slow, deliberate heat, stealing my breath as thoroughly as the winter storm outside stole the warmth from my skin.
