Page 53 of Possessed By the Mountain Man
Her breath shivers out—and she nods once.
Then again.
Fierce. Certain.
I kiss her one last time, slow and deep, before I set her back on her feet.
“Go to bed,” I tell her.
Her glare is lethal. “I hate you.”
“You don’t,” I murmur.
She turns away, breathless. “I do.”
I steal one more glance before the lantern light takes her up to the loft like a dream.
Every nerve in my body screams at me to follow her.
But I don’t. For now.
Chapter 11
Aspen
The storm picks up again, hammering Devil’s Peak like it wants inside—wind slashing, snow screaming against the windows—but it’s nothing compared to the storm building between us.
One loud knock sounds at the bedroom door before Thorne barges into the room we’ve been sharing. He looks intense, like something raw and primal is coursing through him. I shift my thighs back and forth, my body betraying me. I’m angry at this man for his possessiveness at the Halloween party earlier tonight, but I want him more.
Thorne stands across the room, breath harsh, jaw clenched, eyes blazing like I handed him his worst nightmare wrapped in lace and attitude.
I don’t know who speaks first.
Maybe it’s me. Probably it’s me.
“Say something,” I demand. “Anything.”
He scrubs a hand over his jaw. “You make everything complicated.”
I laugh—sharp, wild, a little too honest. “Me? You’re the one who walked out and left me wondering if I imagined this. If I imagined you.”
His eyes snap to mine, hard and lethal. “You think I left because I didn’t feel this?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I bite back. “Maybe because you treat desire like a sin and emotions like a hostage situation?—”
He closes the distance in three savage strides.
I back up because my nervous system short-circuits in his presence. Not out of fear. Out of survival. Every time he’s close, everything inside me goes molten, traitorous.
“You drive me insane,” he growls, crowding me against the mantel. The fire crackles at my back, hot like him. “You don’t listen, you don’t stop, you don’t?—”
“—fold,” I finish for him. “I don’t fold. Sorry if that makes me inconvenient.”
His chest lifts, breath heavy. “You are not inconvenient.”
“You act like I’m the enemy.”
“You act like feelings are entertainment.”
