Page 36 of Protected By the Mountain Man

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, voice rough.

There was no thinking, only feeling. We were alone in here. His hand was on my cheek, calloused fingers on bare skin.

And I wanted him.

I couldn’t deny it anymore.

All I could say was, “Yes.”

FOURTEEN

Kat

I was kissing Gabriel Mitchell, and I knew it was wrong…

…but it felt too damn good to stop.

His kiss was surprisingly soft, gentle. He was tentative; maybe because of everything that had passed between us. He was making it clear he wouldn’t break me.

I wasn’t so sure.

Maybe I wanted to be broken.

Everything we'd been through together seemed to converge in the gentle pressure of his mouth—every near miss, every shared glance. And now here we were, fueled by a desire that had been simmering beneath the surface for too damn long.

Gabe leaned back, our breaths mingling in the short space between us. His hands hovered at my waist, as if he were giving me the reins now. This was it—the moment I could put a stop to whatever was barreling down on us.

I didn't want to stop.

That realization hit me like a sucker punch, stealing my breath away.

I needed this—needed him—in a way that transcended logic or the mess our lives had become. And as if he'd read the chaos swirling in my head, Gabe's voice came out in a raspy whisper, raw with longing. “Fuck…I want you so damn bad.”

Jesus. His voice…

My hand shot out, fingers curling into the collar of his flannel, tugging him back towards me. Our next kiss was nothing like the first. There was an edge to it, a desperation that clawed at the softness we had started with. Gabe's tongue parted my lips without hesitation, sweeping into my mouth with an intensity that drew a moan from deep within me.

As his tongue danced with mine, he stepped closer, wedging himself between my parted thighs. The rough surface of the barn wall pressed cold against my back, but I barely noticed. Gabe's hand, broad and calloused from ranch work, braced against the wall for leverage while his other gripped my hip with a possessiveness that sent shockwaves through me.

This was being alive—screaming “fuck you” to the looming shadow of death. I lost myself in the torrent of sensation, in the sheer heat of Gabe's body pressed against mine.

Fuck caution, fuck consequences—this moment was all that mattered.

Gabe's hands roamed with a purpose, skimming down from my hips to grip my ass, pulling me flush against him. I could feel his cock already hard in his jeans, too much denim between us. I ground my hips against it, seeking the heat of him even with both of us still fully clothed, and it made me arch my back in pleasure.

His lips trailed from mine, blazing a hot path down my jaw to my exposed throat. I gasped and tilted my head, offering more of myself to his lips and tongue and teeth. His stubble scratched at my skin, igniting a trail of sparks that I felt everywhere.

“Kat…” His voice was a growl against my neck, and the sound of my name on his lips—rough with desire—sent a jolt straight through me. “I want you.”

“Take off your clothes,” I gasped, shoving at his open flannel to bare his shoulders. His hands moved to the hem of my t-shirt, pulled upward. “I want you to fuck me, Gabe.”

He growled as he practically tore my shirt off of me, tossing it aside to take my breasts in his hands. He didn’t bother taking my bra off; he yanked it down instead, then he bent to suck on my nipples, groaning like he’d never tasted anything better. I held him against me, wanting him to keep going…but wanting him somewhere else too.

I was so wet. So, so wet, and we’d barely even started.

My breath hitched as he released my nipple with a pop, straightening to take off his shirt. He looked even better than I’d expected; miles of sculpted muscle, tatted all up and down his left arm. A massive wing covered his shoulder, and on his right inner arm was that familiar phrase: Semper Fi.

I didn’t have time to ask about those tattoos right now.

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