Page 19 of Treated to a Mountain Man
"Sawyer—"
"No, let me say this." He was close enough now that I could smell wood smoke on his flannel. "You make me want things I'd given up on. Make me remember there's more to life than just getting through each day."
"You don't know me," I whispered.
"I know what matters. I know you show up even when you're hurting. I know you fight for what you want. I know you've survived things that would break most people." His hand came up to cup my cheek. "And I know I want you more than I've wanted anything in a long time."
"This is a bad idea."
"Probably." His thumb traced my cheekbone. "Tell me to stop."
Instead, I grabbed his flannel and pulled him down to me.
The kiss exploded between us—the tension and hunger of the past days igniting at once. His hands fisted in my hair as he backed me against the prep counter, and I moaned into his mouth.
"Been going crazy," he said against my lips. "Thinking about you. Wanting this."
The maple cream sat warming on the stove, and wicked inspiration struck. I dipped my finger in, then painted it across his lips.
"Cinn—"
I silenced him by licking the sweetness from his mouth, slow and thorough. He groaned, his hands tightening on my hips.
"My turn," he growled, reaching for the pot.
He drizzled warm maple down my throat, then followed with his mouth, his tongue tracing every sticky drop. When he reached my collarbone, he pulled my t-shirt down, exposing more skin to mark with sweetness.
"Upstairs," I gasped. "Now."
He grabbed the pot of maple cream. "Bringing this."
We barely made it to my apartment, stopping twice on the stairs—once so he could press me against the wall and kiss me senseless, once so I could grind against the hardness I felt through his jeans.
Inside my apartment, clothes disappeared fast. My t-shirt, his flannel, everything between us and skin. When he saw my black lace bra, he made a sound of pure appreciation.
"Been imagining this," he said, tracing the lace edge. "What you'd look like. Feel like."
"Reality living up to imagination?"
"Reality's better." He unhooked my bra with one hand, then caught my breast in his mouth, making me arch against him.
He walked me backward to the bedroom, his mouth never leaving my skin. When the backs of my knees hit the bed, he laid me down carefully, like I was something precious.
"Want to see you," he said, hooking his fingers in my sweatpants and pulling them down along with my underwear.
I lay there naked while he stood fully dressed, just looking at me with such heat in his eyes that I squirmed.
"Sawyer—"
"Shh. Let me look." His gaze traveled slowly down my body. "So fucking beautiful."
He set the maple cream on the nightstand, then stripped off his remaining clothes. I took a moment to appreciate what was revealed—broad chest, strong arms, and impressive evidence of how much he wanted this.
"Come here," I said, reaching for him.
"Not yet." He grabbed the maple cream. "Got plans for you first."
He drizzled the warm cream over my breasts, creating patterns that made me shiver despite the heat. Then his mouth followed, licking and sucking every drop while I writhed beneath him.
