Page 17 of Mountain Daddy
He shudders. Just once. Like he’s fighting himself. Like he’s losing.
His nose brushes mine. His lips hover near mine. One breath. Two.
“This is dangerous,” he murmurs. “For both of us.”
“I know.”
“If Elsie finds out…”
“We won’t let her.”
His thumb strokes the inside of my wrist. “Celia.”
I open my eyes. “We deserve something good. Even if it’s just until Christmas.”
His gaze drops to my mouth.
He whispers, “Yeah… we do.”
Slowly, he leans in.
Our lips meet.
This time the kiss isn’t tentative. It’s deep. Warm. Pulling everything out of me. Every inch of fear, loneliness, longing—gone. Just heat. Just him.
He rolls closer, hand sliding up the curve of my waist, drawing me against him carefully, like he’s scared I’ll break. My fingers bury in the soft hair at the back of his neck. His breath hitches.
The kiss intensifies. I pull him nearer. He groans softly into my mouth, low and warm, and the sound sends sparks straight down my spine.
When he tears his lips from mine, he rests his forehead against mine.
“Tell me to stop,” he says hoarsely.
“I won’t.”
“We shouldn’t.”
“We should,” I whisper. “Please. Don’t stop.”
He swallows hard. “I want you.”
I tremble. “Then take me.”
His hand tightens around my waist.
The fire pops. The storm rages.
And Wells kisses me again, and everything else disappears.
Everything except him. And the way his lips move against mine. Strong. Urgent. As if I’m the most delectable of Christmas treats.
And he’s finally giving in to the urge to indulge after fasting for the whole year.
“You’re so sweet,” he whispers gruffly as his lips trail across my cheeks and down the curve of my neck. “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.”
My eyelids flutter as one hard hand grips my hip and the other cups a breast. “Try.”
With a chuckle I feel in the pit of my belly and between my thighs, he does.
