Page 7 of Mountain Man's Christmas Gift
4
KEATON
Ihad no idea where she was taking me, but I was along for the ride, my blood already singing with anticipation.
I followed Camilla down the short hallway of the Wildwood Valley Inn. Garland outlined the doorframe at each room, and wreaths were hung intermittently—all creating a festive spirit I was utterly blind to. My world had narrowed to the sway of her long black skirt, the curve of her hip beneath the soft green sweater. She moved with a purpose that made my heart hammer against my ribs.
She stopped at the end of the hall, trying a door handle. Locked. A frustrated, breathy sound escaped her. She moved to the next one—a door markedStaff Only—and the handle turned with a satisfying click.
“In here,” she said, her voice low and thick as she pulled me inside, closing the door and plunging us into a world of warm, humming solitude.
The room was bigger than I’d expected. Industrial washers lined one wall, folding tables the other. The air smelled of fabric softener and lavender. Neat stacks of linens stood in corners like silent witnesses.
My senses were on a razor’s edge. Everything sharpened—the softthump, thump, thumpof a dryer in its final cycle, the way the fluorescent lights cast a stark yet warm glow on her skin, the faint, jasmine scent of her perfume mixing with the clean laundry. It was intoxicating.
For the first time in my life, I was nervous. Actually nervous.
“Camilla,” I started, my voice sounding rough, unsure.
She stepped into my space, cutting off my words as she reached up to touch my face. Her fingers were cool against my heated skin.
“Don’t think so much,” she whispered, her gaze dropping to my lips.
Then she kissed me, and thinking became a forgotten skill.
Her lips were impossibly soft, yielding, and she tasted like the sweet spice of eggnog and something uniquely, essentially her. A groan rumbled in my chest as I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her flush against me. The sound she made then—a tiny, desperate whimper that vibrated against my mouth—nearly undid me completely.
Without breaking the kiss, I lifted her onto one of the wide, sturdy folding tables. My hands settled on her waist, feeling the maddening curves beneath the wool. She was the perfect height now, and when she hooked her legs around my hips, locking her ankles at the small of my back and pulling me into the warm, maddening cradle of her body, I saw stars.
But then she broke the kiss, pulling back just enough that I could see a shadow of uncertainty in her beautiful eyes.
My stomach plummeted. “What’s wrong?” I asked, my voice gravelly with desire and sudden fear.
“Nothing’s wrong, I just…” She worried her bottom lip between her teeth, a gesture that sent a fresh jolt of heat straight to my groin. “I have something to tell you.”
That sent a different kind of worry slicing through me. “Okay. Tell me.”
She took a deep, shaky breath. “I’m a virgin.”
I stared at her, my brain scrambling to process the words. Of all the confessions I’d imagined, that was the last one.
“You’re surprised,” she said, uncertainty crossing her face.
“I am,” I admitted, my thumbs stroking her cheeks. “But mostly I’m surprised by how happy that makes me.”
Her eyes widened, pools of stunned confusion. “Happy?”
“Yeah. Happy.” I cupped her face, wanting her to see the truth in my eyes. “I’m just surprised by how much I want to make this good for you.”
“If you want to back out, I’ll understand?—”
“No,” I said, the word sharp and immediate. “There’s no way in hell I’m backing out. But are you sure? About this? About me?”
“I’m positive,” she breathed, and the pure, shining certainty in her eyes chased away the last of my doubts.
I leaned in to finally, properly claim her mouth, but her fingers pressed gently against my lips, stopping me. A fresh wave of panic shot through me. This was it. She’d changed her mind.
“Wait,” she whispered, her cheeks flushing a beautiful, deep rose. “I just…I need you to know. I’m on birth control. I have been for a while. Just in case. But it means we don’t have to worry.”
