Page 15 of Possessed By the Mountain Man
A silent fucking war.
We’re doomed.
Wind howls.
Logs crackle.
Her breathing starts to slow. Finally.
“You awake?” she asks.
“No,” I growl.
She laughs softly. “I can feel you looking at me.”
“Go to sleep, Aspen.”
“Can’t.”
“Why.”
“Too quiet.”
“It’s not quiet.”
She exhales. “…Because I’m here?”
My lips twitch. There she goes again—thinking she’s the chaos in the room. She has no idea she walked straight into a storm already burning.
“It’s not quiet,” I say, leaning in just enough to send a hot wave down her spine, “because you won’t shut the hell up.”
She presses her lips together—and I feel it—the moment she bites down on the urge to laugh.
“You’re—”
“Don’t say it,” I warn.
“—the worst.”
I drag the quilt higher over her shoulder. “Sleep.”
“Bossy.”
“Correct.”
“You don’t get to boss me around.”
I slide closer. So close my breath brushes her throat.
“Then move,” I say.
Silence.
She doesn’t move.
Not an inch.
I knew she wouldn’t.
