Page 28 of Naughty With The Mountain Man
That breaks something in him.
Micah crushes his mouth to mine in a kiss that’snothinglike the one under the mistletoe. This one is all hunger. Heat.Need.
It’s a release.
Weeks of tension snap loose as our mouths collide, as his hands find my waist, my hips, my back. He kisses like he’s starving, and I let him devour me, matching every desperate press of his lips with my own.
I tug at his flannel shirt, and he lets me pull it open, revealing the hard lines of his chest beneath the thin tee. My palms flatten against his skin, warm and solid, and he groans into my mouth like the contact undoes him.
He lifts me—literallylifts me—and carries me to the couch, dropping down with me straddling his lap. The fire crackles beside us, casting amber shadows over the room, over his jaw, his throat, his arms.
His hands grip my thighs, sliding under my sweater, exploring like he’s memorizing every inch.
“Ellie,” he murmurs, voice gravel and desire, “if we start this, I won’t want to stop.”
“Then don’t.”
He closes his eyes like that word physically affects him.
I lean in, pressing my lips to his jaw, down his throat. “You don’t scare me, Micah. You make me feelalive.”
He pulls me back by the chin, looking at me with something raw and unfiltered in his eyes. “You’re not a fling. You’re not a distraction. You’re everything I didn’t know I needed, and I can’t lose you.”
“Then don’t let go.”
And he doesn’t.
Our mouths meet again, slower now, deeper. His touch is reverent, trailing over my ribs, my back, the dip of my waist. He holds me like I’m both breakable and the most important thing he’s ever touched.
We lose time in that moment.
Clothes loosen. Boundaries blur. And every kiss, every graze of skin, every moan shared in the firelight is a promise neither of us dares say out loud yet—but it’s there.
We may be in the eye of a storm. But in this cabin, inhisarms, I’ve never felt more wanted… or moreseen.
And if this is a war?
Then this right here,
with Micah,
is the reason I plan on surviving it.
12
Micah
Having Ellie in my bed might be my new obsession. She’s so fucking pretty I don’t know what to do with it all.
It’s almost overwhelming, and in a sense, wrong. She’s young. Beautiful. Precious. And I’m this older mother fucker who has lived alone for so long I almost forget how it is to interact with people.
With her.
However, there’s this need building deep within me that I can no longer ignore. I stand in one motion, her legs wrapping around me instinctively as I carry her down the hallway toward the bedroom.
There’s no holding back tonight.
Ellie moans as I lay her down in my bed. She looks like she belongs. Her soft hair feathered across my pillow. “Micah,” she whispers, reaching her arms out to me.
