Page 31 of Possessed By the Mountain Man
@glitterdemon:why is this so hot wtf
I bite back a grin. “Okay, folks! Welcome to the Devil’s Peak Virtual Costume Contest! Since our roads are closed from the storm and our generator hates us, your favorite emotionally constipated lumberjack has reluctantly agreed to judge costumes alongside me.”
“I never agreed to that,” Thorne says.
“Oh? Sorry.” I fake sympathy. “He’ll be assisting me today as my co-host.”
He steps in close. Too close. The kind of close that makes my pulse misbehave.
“Say that again,” he murmurs, low enough only I can hear.
Danger flickers through me. “My co?—”
He leans down, mouth near my ear, voice a dark scrape. “Finish that sentence and I’ll remind you what happened last time you got brave with me.”
Oh. Oh no. He did not just go there.
Heat slams through me like a match striking gasoline. I keep smiling at the camera. “—coerced volunteer,” I finish sweetly. “Blink twice if you’re being held hostage.”
He stares at me like he’s undressing me with hate. Or hunger. With Thorne it’s hard to tell the difference.
“Alright! First contestant!” I clap and step slightly away from him, because I swear if I don’t put space between us I will crawl up his body in front of the entire internet like a feral cat.
We swipe to the first entry photo—a couple dressed as Frankenstein and Bride of Frankenstein.
“Aww!” I beam. “See?Theyunderstood the assignment. Effort. Creativity. Romance?—”
“Minus points for matching costumes,” Thorne grunts. “Codependency.”
I whip toward him. “It’s literally ‘couples contest.’ That’s the point.”
He shrugs. “Still codependent.”
“Do you even believe in romance?”
He turns his head slowly and meets my eyes with quiet brutality. “No.”
Jesus.
For a split second, something raw moves inside me. Not pity. Not fear. Something fiercer. Something that wants to argue that out of him with my mouth.
Focus, Aspen. Do not climb him. He is not a tree.
Yet.
“Moving on!” I swipe. A pair dressed as pirate and siren pop up. Very sexy. Lots of abs.
Thorne makes a sound of disgust. “Basic.”
I narrow my eyes. “You don’t like sexy costumes?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Then what do you like?”
His gaze drops to my thighs. Slow. Deliberate. Possessive.
I feel it. Everywhere.
