Page 19 of Wrecked By the Mountain Man
The cool air hits my skin, a brief shock, quickly replaced by the heat of his gaze.
He discards the sweater, tossing it onto a nearby chair, then his eyes feast on my exposed chest.
“Wish I’d known this was on the agenda,” I breathe, glancing down at my practical cotton bra. “I’d have worn the lacy red set from Victoria’s Secret.”
Edward’s fingers trace the edge of the plain fabric.
“This is perfect.” His voice is a low rumble against my ear. “It’s just… you.”
He leans in, his lips brushing the sensitive skin just below my jaw.
“Every damn thing about you is beautiful, Penny.” His hands slide around my back, fumbling with the clasp. “Let me see all of you.”
My heart pounds, a drumbeat echoing in my ears as my bra falls from my chest, my nipples hardening instantly under his gaze.
“Beautiful,” he groans, his voice a rough caress as he reaches out to cup my breasts, his thumb swiping across my nipples.
Instinctively, I reach for the hem of his shirt. He watches me, his eyes dark, as I slowly pull it up, revealing the hard, defined planes of his stomach, the faint line of dark hair disappearing beneath his worn old jeans.
Every inch of him is carved like stone, a testament to years of demanding physical labor and military discipline. His skin is warm beneath my palms and I tug his shirt over his head, revealing the full expanse of his powerful chest.
It’s so big and broad, covered in a dusting of dark hair. Scars crisscross his shoulders and arms, faint white lines against his tanned skin, silent testaments to a past I can only begin to imagine.
But they don't detract from his beauty… they enhance it.
For a moment, I'm just standing there, my gaze lingering on his pecs, then slowly moving to his abs. Each of them is effortlessly hard and sculpted.
My eyes travel lower, to the tantalizing V of his hips, disappearing beneath the worn denim of his jeans.
Oh, he’smagnificent.
“Wow,” I breathe, the word escaping me before I can stop it.
Edward looks at me, a faint, almost boyish smirk playing on his lips.
“Wow, Penny?” he prompts, his voice laced with amusement, a rare, breathtaking glimpse of humor breaking through his usual stoicism.
“You heard me. Just… wow,” I confirm, my fingers itching to trace the lines of his deliciously masculine body.
Without conscious thought, my hands find his chest, my palms flattening against his warm skin. His muscles flex beneath my touch, and I can feel the strong, steady beat of his heart.
He groans, a low, guttural sound before leaning down, his mouth hungry on mine.
This isn't a tentative exploration anymore. This is a claiming. His lips move against mine with a raw urgency that steals my breath, his tongue tasting, teasing, demanding.
I respond with my own hunger matching his, the kiss escalating into a fierce, desperate dance.
His hands are everywhere. One slides into my hair, tangling in the strands, tilting my head back to deepen the kiss. The other glides down my back, pressing me closer, until there’s no space left between us.
I can feel the hard ridge of his erection pressing against my stomach, a thrilling promise of what’s to come.
Yes. God , yes.
But then, he breaks the kiss and pulls back.
“Penny,” he rasps, his voice rough with desire but also laced with uncertainty. “Are you sure? About this? About us?”
I see the desperate hunger in his eyes, the tremor in his hands, and I know.
