Page 13 of Branded Mountain Man
All of him. If she only knew what she was asking for.
But Colt gave her what she wanted, what they both needed, until the small space filled with the sound of skin against skin and breathless pleas and his name falling from her lips like a benediction. She took everything he had to give and demanded more, fearless in her want, and when she finally shattered beneath him for the second time, she took him with her.
He came hard, harder than he had ever in years, his body going rigid as everything he'd been holding back tore loose. Fuck. The release left him shaking, raw, like he'd been turned inside out. Two days of building tension, and now this—her skin, her heat, the way she'd said his name like it mattered.
He felt split open. Exposed. Like she'd reached inside his chest and rearranged something vital.
When it was over, he collapsed beside her on the narrow cot, both of them breathing hard in the firelight. Sloan's head was on his shoulder, her hair spilled across his chest, and Colt had never felt anything as perfect as the weight of her against him.
Which was exactly why he had to let her go.
The thought hit him like cold water, reality crashing back with brutal clarity. What had he done? What the hell had he been thinking?
He hadn't been thinking. That was the problem. He'd let three years of isolation and want override every rational thought in his head, and now Sloan was curled against him like she belonged there, like this meant something more than just two lonely people seeking comfort in a storm.
"This was a mistake." The words tasted like ash in his mouth.
Sloan went very still. "What?"
"This. Us. It was a mistake."
She lifted her head to look at him, and the expression on her face made his chest tight. "Why?"
"This is terrifying," he said finally.
"Why?"
"Because I want things I haven't wanted in years. Because you make me believe I might deserve them."
"You do deserve them."
"I'm falling for you," he said quietly. "I know it's too fast, I know it's?—"
"I'm already gone," she interrupted. "Fell the moment you made me coffee like it was the most natural thing in the world."
His smile was soft, wondering. "What would it look like if I came back to work? Not hiding anymore?"
"What do you mean?"
"Trail crew. Building things that matter instead of just maintaining what's already broken."
Because you're a therapist and I'm your patient. Because you have a life worth living and I'm just marking time until I die. Because you touched my scars like they were beautiful and I know better than to believe in fairy tales.
"Because you're leaving," he said instead.
"Tomorrow. My 72 hours will be up."
"So this doesn't change anything. You'll hike down that mountain and file your report, and I'll still be up here."
"It doesn't have to be that way."
Colt sat up, running a hand through his hair. The movement made his side pull, the brand aching like it always did when he was stressed. "Yes, it does."
"Why?" Sloan sat up too, completely unselfconscious in her nakedness. "Why does it have to be that way?"
"Because that's how it is." He reached for his jeans, needing the armor of clothing between them. "You're a therapist. I'm not your fucking project."
The words hit their mark. He saw her flinch, saw hurt flash across her features before she pulled her own walls back into place.
