Page 7 of Forever with the Mountain Man
Caroline sets down her boxes and walks slowly around the room, running her fingers along the new surfaces, checking out every detail. The look on her face—wonder and joy and gratitude all mixed together—makes every extra hour I put in worth it.
"It's perfect," she breathes. "Finn, this is absolutely perfect."
"Thought you might like the built-in reading nook," I say, gesturing to the cozy corner I created by the windows. "Put in some electrical outlets for lamps, shelving for books."
"You built this specifically for me?" She traces the smooth wood with reverent fingers. "This wasn't in the original plans."
I shrug, suddenly uncomfortable with her attention. "Seemed like something you'd use."
"I love it." She turns to face me, and there are actual tears in her eyes. "This is the most thoughtful thing anyone's ever done for me."
The raw emotion in her voice undoes something inside me. Before I can think better of it, I'm crossing the room, stopping just in front of her.
"Caroline."
"Yes?"
"I need to tell you something."
She nods, her eyes wide and trusting.
"I'm attracted to you." The words come out blunt and honest. "More than I should be. More than is appropriate."
Her breath catches. "Finn..."
"I'm fifteen years older than you. I've got nothing to offer a woman like you—no fancy education, no big house, no prospects beyond what I can build with my hands. But I can't stop thinking about you. Can't stop wanting to make you smile, to take care of you, to be the man you deserve."
"What if I think you already are?" she whispers.
"You don't know what you're saying."
Caroline smiles. She reaches up, her small hand settling on my chest right over my heart. "Finn, you're the kindest, most honorable man I've ever met. You work harder than anyone I know, you treat people with respect, and you just spent weeks creating something beautiful for children you've never even met."
"Caroline."
"I'm twenty-five, not fifteen. I'm old enough to know my own mind." Her voice is steady, sure. "And I know I've never felt about anyone the way I feel about you."
The confession breaks the last of my restraint. I cup her face in my hands, thumbs brushing across her cheekbones. "This is crazy."
"Maybe." She leans into my touch. "Do you care?"
Instead of answering, I kiss her.
It's supposed to be gentle, careful, but the moment our lips meet, something ignites between us. She melts against me, her hands fisting in my shirt, and I deepen the kiss, tasting the sweetness of her mouth, the coffee on her lips.
She makes a soft sound that goes straight to my core, and I back her against the wall, my body caging her in. Her hands slide up to tangle in my hair, and when she tugs gently, I groan against her mouth.
"Finn," she breathes when we break apart. Her lips are swollen, her cheeks flushed, and she's looking at me like I hung the moon.
"We should stop," I say, even as my hands drift to her waist, spanning her narrow ribcage.
"Should we?" Her voice is breathless, and she's looking at my mouth like she wants to taste it again.
"Someone could come in."
"The door's closed." She reaches up, tracing my bottom lip with her finger. "And it's Friday afternoon. Everyone's gone home."
I kiss her again, deeper this time, my tongue sliding against hers as she responds with an eagerness that surprises us both. Her hands explore the planes of my chest, mapping the muscles through my shirt, and I have to grit my teeth to keep from losing control entirely.
