Page 35 of Whiskey Kisses For the Mountain Man
Lettie's free hand comes up to touch my face, gently turning me to look at her. "Thank you for telling me."
"Why aren't you running yet?" I ask, only half joking.
"Because I'm not them," she says simply. "And because I see you, Owen McKenna. Not just the grumpy exterior you show everyone, but the man who cuts down Christmas trees in snowstorms and catches me when I fall off ladders."
I search her face for any sign of pity or manipulation, but find only openness. The walls I've spent decades building seem flimsy in the face of her unwavering gaze.
"I don't know what this is," I admit, gesturing between us. "I don't know if I can give you what you want."
"I don't want anything except what you're willing to give," she says. "And maybe for you to help hang more Christmas lights."
The teasing lightness in her voice breaks the heaviness of the moment. A smile spreads across my lips despite everything I've just shared.
"I think that can be arranged."
She rises on her tiptoes again, bringing her lips to mine. This kiss is different—deeper, laden with understanding and something that feels dangerously like promise. My hands find her waist, pulling her flush against me as the kiss intensifies, the gentle exploration giving way to something more urgent.
When we break apart, we're both breathing hard, a question hovering in the air between us. Her eyes, dark and wanting, give me the answer before she speaks.
"Owen," she whispers against my lips, "can you do me another big favor?"
My eyebrows crease, but she continues before I can answer.
“Take me to your bedroom.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
LETTIE
Owen’s eyes darken with desire as he holds himself still.
“Are you sure?” his voice rasps. “Be absolutely sure, Lettie, because once I get inside you, I’m not sure once will be enough.”
Omylanta.My lady bits quiver with heat. I have never felt so turned on in my life.
I can’t deny this pull to this mountain man. He’s rugged and scruffy. His hands are not thin and delicate like he-who-shall-not-be-named. Owen McKenna is all man. He makes my curvy frame feel petite. And the way he holds me…as if I’m precious.
“I am absolutely sure.” I’m breathless. “And so we’re clear…I’m perfectly fine with once never being enough.”
His strong nose flares. Suddenly, he sweeps me up in his arms, a squeal of surprise escaping me.
Laughing, I wrap my arms around his neck. “Owen.”
“Bed,” he grunts like a caveman, and I’m delighted.
I pepper kisses all over his face. “Can we do it later in front of the tree?”
Owen gently drops me on the bed with a bounce. “You’re killing me, Lettie.”
My giggling dies when he pops open my flannel-patterned slacks. Owen slowly peels my pants off, revealing my snowman underwear. He pauses, staring. I wait on bated breath.
“Did that just kill the mood?” I whimper.
His vibrant eyes are illuminated by the lights in the hall and the Charlie Brown Christmas tree, visible from the open bedroom door. His ever-present pucker between his brows are concentrated on my white cotton underwear with mini snowmen with red hats, and a red lace trim.
“Only on you would this do the completely opposite. These just make me want to taste how sweet you are more.”
I suck in air at his warm puffs of breath on my exposed skin as he slides my underwear down my thick thighs. Thank goodness I still shaved my legs. I’m not donning winter fuzz.
