Page 55 of Possessed By the Mountain Man
“Don’t stop,” I whisper.
Something shatters in him. A restraint. A line. A rule. Gone.
He kisses me again—deeper this time. Devouring. I lose air, sanity, reason. He backs me against the wall until the garland hanging there falls, forgotten. His hands roam—slow, reverent, almost like he hates how much he needs to touch me.
He eases the straps of my costume off my shoulders, baring inch after inch of skin. His breath hits my collarbone, hot and claiming. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he rasps against my skin. “I wake up thinking about your voice. I fall asleep tasting your smart mouth. I chopped wood for three hours today trying not to drag you inside and?—”
I cut him off with a moan, nails digging into his shoulders. I feel the tremor in his body—he’s barely holding on.
He peels the top of my costume away entirely, dropping it to the floor, and his gaze darkens, sweeping over me like I’m his in a way he doesn’t know how to say yet. His touch is rough—but his eyes blaze with something dangerously close to worship.
“Look at you,” he exhales, thumb stroking slowly over bare skin like he can’t believe I’m real. “Christ, Aspen…”
I swallow, dizzy, heat licking through me. “Say it,” I whisper.
“Say what?”
“That you want me.”
He huffs a broken, hungry sound—half growl, half confession. “Want doesn’t cover it.” His lips brush my ear, sending a violent shiver through me. “Iachefor you. I would set this mountain on fire to have you.”
The words knock the breath right out of me.
His hands skim down my sides and find the edge of my skirt. He tugs, dragging it down slowly—obscenely slow—likehe’s savoring the undoing of me. The fabric falls around my feet. I step out of it, never breaking his gaze.
He palms the back of my thighs and lifts me effortlessly, carrying me to the wooden side table by the window. He sets me down on it, pulling me to the edge. The storm rages behind the glass, but in here, it’s nothing but heat.
“Lie back,” he commands, voice rough velvet.
I do.
He drags his knuckles along the inside of my thigh, and every nerve in my body sparks alive. His touch is possessive. Slow. Deliberate torture.
“You’re shaking,” he murmurs without looking up.
“You’re infuriating,” I breathe, reaching for him.
He catches my wrist, pinning my hand to the table. “Not tonight. Tonight, you don’t get to pretend you’re unaffected.”
“I’m not pretending?—”
“Yes, you are.” His voice deepens. “You talk a big game. You mouth off. You test me. But underneath every smart remark, every glare…” He brushes his knuckles dangerously close to heat. “Youburnfor me.”
My chest rises too fast, too shallow. “Arrogant.”
“Prove me wrong.”
I can’t.
He knows it. His smile is lethal.
I arch to kiss him, but he evades me and sinks lower, dragging slow open-mouthed kisses down my stomach, leaving heat in their wake. He takes his time—too much time—letting me feel how badly he wants to worship and ruin me at once.
“Thorne…” My voice shakes.
“Tell me what you want,” he rasps against my skin.
“You,” I breathe.
