Page 8 of Tracked By the Mountain Man
"Tyler?"
I turn to find Leah in the doorway, hair damp from her shower, wearing a soft cotton nightgown that clings to her curves. She's barefoot, vulnerable, beautiful in a way that makes my chest tight.
"I thought you might have left," she says softly.
"I thought about it." No point in lying. "Probably should have."
"But you didn't."
"But I didn't."
She steps onto the balcony beside me, close enough that I can smell her shampoo. The evening air raises goosebumps on her bare arms.
"It's beautiful," she says, looking out at the town. "Katie would have loved this view.” She pauses. “Thank you," she says quietly. "For treating her with dignity. For making sure she wasn't alone."
"She was never alone. Not from the moment we found her until we delivered her to your family."
Leah turns to face me fully, and there are tears in her eyes but not the devastating kind from earlier. These are different, grateful, healing.
"I need you to know something," she says. "What I'm feeling right now, what I want. It's not about replacing Katie or fillingsome void she left. It's about choosing to live. Choosing to feel something good for the first time in five years."
"Leah—"
"And maybe it's selfish, but I want to feel it with you. The man who brought my sister home. The man who found me today when I was lost in more ways than one."
She steps closer, her hands coming up to rest on my chest. I can feel my heartbeat thundering beneath her palms.
"Tell me you don't want this too," she whispers. "Tell me I'm imagining the way you look at me, and I'll step back. We can pretend this afternoon never happened."
I should tell her exactly that. Should be the responsible one, the professional who maintains boundaries. But standing here with her hands on my chest and her eyes full of hope and desire, I can't lie.
"I can't tell you that," I admit roughly. "Because I do want this. I want you. More than I should, considering the circumstances."
"Then stop thinking about the circumstances." She rises on her toes, her lips brushing mine in the softest whisper of a kiss. "Just for tonight. Just for now."
The last of my restraint crumbles. I cup her face in my hands and kiss her properly, deeply, pouring five years of guilt and longing and desperate need into the connection between us. She responds immediately, her body pressing against mine as her hands fist in my shirt.
"Inside," she gasps against my mouth. "Please."
I sweep her into my arms, carrying her through the French doors and into the soft lamplight of the room. When I set her down beside the bed, she's already reaching for the hem of my shirt.
I take my time with her nightgown, revealing inch by inch the creamy skin beneath. She's not wearing a bra, and when the dress falls to pool at her feet, she's left in nothing but a pair ofsimple cotton panties that somehow seem more erotic than the fanciest lingerie.
"Beautiful," I breathe, meaning it completely.
She blushes but doesn't cover herself, instead reaching for my belt buckle with steady fingers. When she frees me from my jeans, her sharp intake of breath makes me harder than I already was.
"Tyler," she whispers, her hand wrapping around my length.
I capture her mouth again, walking her backward until her legs hit the bed. She falls back against the white comforter, hair spread across the pillows like spilled honey, and I follow her down.
"I want to taste you," I murmur against her throat, already trailing kisses down her body. "I want to make you forget everything but how good I can make you feel."
She arches beneath me as I worship her breasts, taking each nipple into my mouth and sucking until she's gasping my name. "God, Tyler, your mouth."
"Like that, sweetheart?" I tease, scraping my teeth gently across the sensitive peak. "Tell me what you want."
"More," she breathes, her hands fisting in my hair. "Everything. I want everything."
