Page 20 of Possessed By the Mountain Man
Oh.
The meaning behind that simple sentence hits between my ribs. Hard. Possessive and protective and unnecessary—but so stupidly hot I can barely think.
My voice is husky when I speak. “And if I don’t agree?”
He leans in again, voice a dark promise. “Then I’ll tie you to the damn railing to keep you safe.”
The heat between us spikes into something feral.
I still don’t back down.
“That's kinky,” I whisper.
His lips curve—slow, wicked. “You have no idea.”
My entire body lights up. There it is—the hunger he keeps trying to hide. The beast under the beard and flannel. I want more.
“Fine,” I say, voice steadier than I feel. “I’ll follow your rules—if you follow mine.”
His brow lifts. “You have rules?”
“Oh, so many.” I step closer. “Rule one: don’t cut my power without warning.”
His gaze drops to my lips again, hungry. “Don’t tempt me.”
“Rule two: let me finish the decorations.”
“We’ll see.”
“And rule three.” I pause for effect. “No touching.”
He goes still.
Completely still.
“That so?” he asks quietly.
“Yes.” I lift my chin. “You don’t get to touch me whenever you want. Especially not when I’m five feet up a ladder or minding my own business.”
He steps into me again, shadow swallowing me whole. “You think I want to touch you?”
“I know you do.”
His breath punches out slow. Controlled. Dangerous.
“Careful,” he rasps. “You keep talking like that, I’ll give you something real to be afraid of.”
My pulse skitters. “I’m not afraid of you.”
“You should be.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t play nice either.”
We stand there in gridlocked tension, neither willing to step back first. Then he surprises me.
He holds out his hand.
