Page 12 of Wrapped Up with the Mountain Man
Her eyes fill with tears, but she's smiling. "I want that too. I want it so much it scares me."
"Then let me show you," I murmur, lowering my head until our mouths are almost touching. "Let me show you how much I want this. How much I want you."
This kiss is slower, deeper, like we have all the time in the world. She melts into me, and I feel something click into place in my chest.
This. This is what I've been missing without knowing it.
"Dove," I murmur against her lips.
"I know," she whispers back, understanding everything I can't put into words.
Her hands slide under my shirt, palms flat against my chest, and the contact sends electricity through my entire body. I groan softly, my control starting to slip.
"The kids—"
"Are sleeping." Her eyes meet mine, dark with want. "And we know how to be quiet."
The promise in her voice undoes me. I lift her easily, carrying her toward the bedroom, marveling at how perfectly she fits in my arms.
I set her down gently beside the bed, my hands shaking slightly as I reach for the buttons of the flannel shirt she's wearing. Seeing her in my clothes does something to my brain, some primitive satisfaction I can't explain.
"You're beautiful," I tell her as I work the buttons free. "So beautiful I can barely think."
She laughs softly, breathless. "Good. Thinking is overrated right now."
"But, I am feeling." I push the shirt off her shoulders. "I feel like I've been waiting for you without knowing it."
She's wearing simple cotton underwear, nothing fancy, but the sight of her makes my breath catch. She's real, she's here, she wants this too.
"My turn," she says, her fingers working at my buttons. "I've been curious about what's under all this flannel."
When she pushes my shirt off my shoulders, her intake of breath is satisfying.
When our lips meet again, there's no hesitation. I pour everything into the kiss: loneliness, hope, the desperate need to connect with someone who sees me clearly. She responds just as fiercely, her hands in my hair, her body pressed against mine.
When I trail my mouth down her throat, she arches back, trusting me completely.
"I need you," she whispers. "I need you so much."
"You have me," I promise against her skin. "All of me, Dove."
Her bra falls away, and I take a moment just to look at her – the curve of her breasts, her flushed skin. She's more beautiful than I imagined.
"Don't look at me like that," she says, suddenly shy.
"Like what?"
"Like I'm going to disappear."
I catch her hands, pulling them away from where she's trying to cover herself. "You're not going anywhere. And neither am I."
She makes a sound that's half sob, half laugh, pulling me up for another kiss. This one is softer, sweeter, full of emotion that has nothing to do with desire and everything to do with love.
"Make love to me," she whispers against my lips. "Show me what this feels like."
I don't need to be asked twice. I lift her again, laying her gently on the narrow bed, following her down to cover her body with mine. The feel of her beneath me, warm and willing and completely mine, is almost too much to bear.
I take my time with her, mapping every inch of her skin with my hands and mouth, learning what makes her gasp, what makes her arch, what makes her whisper my name. I trail kisses down her throat, across her collarbone, taking one perfect breast into my mouth.
