Page 10 of Wrapped Up with the Mountain Man
Heat creeps up my neck. "Bentley—"
"I think you'd have pretty babies," Mia adds matter-of-factly. "And they'd be really good at making cookies and fixing things."
Tannon clears his throat, his own cheeks flushed. "How about we clean up and play some games? I saw cards around here somewhere."
The subject change is graceless but merciful. Still, the children's innocent observations hang in the air between us.
After breakfast, we settle into an easy rhythm. The kids play games on the braided rug while Tannon maintains the fire and I tidy the small space. It's domestic in a way that feels both natural and terrifying.
"Dove." Tannon's voice is quiet, meant for my ears only. "Can we talk?"
My heart skips. "Of course."
He nods toward the cabin's small bedroom. "Privately."
I follow him into the tiny space, acutely aware of the unmade bed and the intimate implications of being alone with him. He closes the door softly, and suddenly the room feels even smaller.
"About what the kids said," he begins, running a hand through his hair. "I don't want you to feel uncomfortable."
"I don't," I say honestly. "They're just being kids. They see two adults who care about them and they want to make sense of it."
"Is that what we're doing? Caring about them?"
"I think we're caring about each other too," I whisper.
That's all it takes. He steps closer. "Dove," he says, my name rough in his throat. "I'm not good at this. At letting people in."
"You let me in. You let them in."
"That's the problem." His voice is barely audible. "I can't let you go."
I reach up, my fingers tracing the strong line of his jaw. "Then don't."
He closes his eyes, leaning into my touch like a man starved for gentle contact. "I don’t know if I can do what you’re asking. I’ve been alone for so long."
"I'm asking for a chance. I'm asking you to stop hiding from what this could be."
When he opens his eyes, they're dark with want and something deeper. "Do you really want to do this?"
"We are doing this." I step closer, eliminating the last space between us. "We've been doing this since I crashed into you with that Santa suit."
His laugh is shaky. "That was pretty memorable."
"This is too." I rise on my toes, bringing my mouth close to his. "Kiss me, Tannon."
He doesn't need to be told twice. His lips find mine with a hunger that speaks of months of loneliness, of wanting something he thought he couldn't have. The kiss starts gentle but quickly deepens into something desperate and consuming.
His hands span my waist, pulling me against him, and I can feel the hard lines of his body, the strength barely contained. I've never wanted anyone the way I want this man, this wounded, careful man who builds fires and fixes broken things.
"God, Dove," he groans against my mouth. "You're so beautiful."
This time when he kisses me, there's possession in it, a claiming that sends heat spiraling through my body. His hands slide up my back, tangling in my hair, and I arch against him, wanting more contact.
The sound of children's laughter from the main room breaks through the haze of desire.
"We should get back," I start.
"I know." But he doesn't let go, his forehead resting against mine as we both struggle to catch our breath.
