Page 9 of Rugged Mountain Man
I mean, all I wanted to do right then is lift her up and carry her to my bed and do unspeakable things to her all day. My cock twitches in my pants and I breathe in deeply.She’s not going to stay, Cole. Get a hold of yourself.
I grip the wheel tighter, my knuckles white. I’ve spent years keeping people at arm’s length, keeping my world simple. Then this woman waltzes in, all soft curves and big brown eyes, and suddenly, nothing feels simple anymore.
She’s talking a mile a minute. Something about how pretty the mountains are, her voice light and musical, but my brain is stuck on other things. Like how her legs looked in my shirt this morning. Or how her lips parted slightly when she caught me staring.
“Why are you so quiet?” she asks, turning to me with a smile that makes my chest ache.
“Just thinking,” I say, keeping my voice steady.
“About what?”
You. The way you’d look spread out on my bed; your skin flushed from my hands. The way your breath would hitch when I finally taste you.
I grip the steering wheel tighter, forcing my thoughts to stop spiralling. “Work,” I lie.
She gives me a knowing look, like she doesn’t buy it for a second.
“You’re a terrible liar,” she says, her tone teasing.
I grunt in response, refusing to take the bait. We reach the first spot I want to take her, the meadow and when she sees the wildflowers spread out ahead of us. She stops talking.
She practically bounces out of the truck. Her excitement is infectious, her energy filling the space like sunlight breaking through the clouds.
“This is incredible,” she says, spinning around with her arms outstretched. Her hair catches in the breeze, and the sight of her makes my throat tighten.
I step out of the truck, keeping my distance, but my eyes stay locked on her. She crouches by the flowers, her fingers skimming the tips of the flowers, and I can’t help but imagine those hands on me. Sliding over my chest, down my stomach, wrapping around—
I shake my head, hard.Get a grip, Cole.
Focus.
“This is what you do?” she asks, turning to me with wide eyes. “Just… hang out in paradise all day?”
“Something like that,” I say, leaning against the truck.
She stands, brushing her hands on her pants, and walks toward me. The sunlight hits her just right, highlighting the flush in her cheeks, the curve of her lips.
“You’re lucky,” she says softly. “Living out here, away from everything.”
“Has its perks,” I say, my voice rougher than I intended.
Her gaze lingers on me, and for a second, I swear she’s thinking the same thing I am. Then she looks away, and the moment’s gone.
“Come on,” I say, stepping back and clearing my throat. “Next stop’s the creek. You’ll love it.”
She tilts her head, curiosity sparking in her eyes. “Is it as peaceful as this?”
“Better. You’ll see.”
At the creek, she kneels by the edge, her fingers skimming the surface of the water. The way she moves—light, deliberate, unhurried—makes it seem like she belongs here, like the mountains whispered her name long before she ever set foot on their trails. It’s as if this place has claimed her, the same way it claimed me. She seems like she has no worry in the world, and she won’t if she stays with me.
“It’s so clear,” she says, marvelling at the way the water rushes over the rocks.
I don’t respond. Too busy watching her. The way her shirt clings to her back, her curves outlined in a way that drives me half-mad. Her hiking pants hug her hips just right, and myhands itch to grab her. To claim her. To haul her into my lap and make her mine in every way that counts.
She leans farther over the edge, her hair spilling down like a cascade of silk, and I step closer, instincts screaming at me to keep her safe. Protect her. Keep her within reach.
“You’re staring,” she says, glancing back at me with a teasing smile.
