Page 13 of My Mountain Man Valentine

“You won’t be alone,” he said, voice low and steady. “I’ll watch out for you, Tessa. Always.”

A sudden tension vibrated through me, drawn taut like a bowstring ready to snap. Every sense honed in on him: the heat radiating off his torso, the way his thumb brushed along my jawline, the faint smell of woodsmoke lingering in his clothes. A memory flashed of his gentle kiss on my temple the night before, how it had left me hungry for more. Now, that unspoken want flared into something I could no longer ignore.

I started to speak his name—“Ryder”—but the rest died on my tongue when he leaned in. His lips met mine in a featherlight kiss, a brief, teasing press that ended too soon, leaving a pulse of heat behind. My heart hammered, and I could taste the trace of coffee he’d sipped earlier on his breath. For an instant, I hesitated—our entire setup was supposed to be fake—but instead of pulling away, I found myself leaning forward, breath catching in anticipation.

He kissed me again, more firmly this time, and that was all it took for a coil of desire to tighten in my lower belly. His hand slid from my cheek to the nape of my neck, fingers threading through my hair, guiding me closer. I responded eagerly, pressing against the hard planes of his chest, feeling the warmth of his pectoral muscles under my fingertips. A quiet sound—half moan, half sigh—escaped me, and I could sense the low rumble of approval in his throat.

His other arm wrapped around my waist, drawing me in until my breasts brushed against him through my sweater. A shiver rolled through me at that hint of friction, and I arched my back slightly, wanting more than just a fleeting touch. My mind, once cluttered with menacing notes and carefully staged dating, emptied of everything but the slow burn igniting between us.

“Tessa,” he whispered, voice thick with intent. His lips trailed across my jaw, down to the sensitive spot below my ear, sending sparks racing along my nerves. I let my head fall back, giving him full access to the curve of my neck. He took advantage of it, kissing and nibbling a path to my collarbone. Each soft bite made me clutch at the back of his shirt, my breaths turning shallow and urgent.

The couch seemed too confining for the heat swelling between us. Neither of us spoke, but we both understood that we couldn’t stay perched on the edge of these cushions forever. In a flurry of motion—an entanglement of limbs and gasping kisses—we rose to our feet. He guided me backward, step by step, until we reached the small hallway leading to the bedroom. My pulse throbbed in my ears, a steady drumbeat matching the rush of blood beneath my skin.

As we stumbled across the threshold, he flicked on a bedside lamp. Its soft glow revealed his taut form, the shadows of his shoulders and arms playing across the walls. My gaze flicked down, lingering on the cut of his abdomen visible through the open neck of his flannel shirt, and I felt a surge of raw desire.

We paused, tension palpable. He gripped the hem of my sweater and murmured, “Is this okay?” His eyes searched mine, a mixture of fierce hunger and tender caution.

Wordlessly, I nodded, hands already reaching for the buttons of his shirt. Within moments, layers of clothing began to fall: my sweater, his flannel, the T-shirt I wore underneath. Heat flushed my cheeks when he peeled the garment away, baring my bra and the slope of my stomach. I caught him staring, eyes darkening as he took in the sight of my skin. Emboldened, I slid my fingers down his chest, feeling the ridges of muscle andscattering of hair, the dip beneath his sternum that made him inhale sharply.

His palms found my waist, tracing the gentle curve until he reached my hips. Then his fingers splayed, pulling me closer. Our kiss deepened, tongues meeting in a slow, deliberate dance. A throbbing need pulsed between my thighs, and I angled my pelvis against him, wanting to feel every solid inch of his body. He let out a low groan, a sweet, desperate sound that fueled my courage.

Somehow, my hands moved to his belt, fumbling briefly before undoing the buckle. His breath hitched when I slid my fingers beneath the waistband of his jeans, skimming the firm planes of his abdomen. The small friction of my knuckles against his skin made him tremble. He tugged at the waistband of my leggings, gently working them down past my hips, over my thighs, until they pooled at my ankles. By then, we were both panting, our breath mingling in the hush of the winter night.

We tumbled onto the bed in a flurry of limbs, my back pressed into the soft sheets. Ryder loomed over me, gaze raking across my body as if he wanted to memorize every curve, every dip of flesh. He lowered his head, lips brushing the swell of my breast above my bra, and I let out a shaky gasp, arching up into him. My fingers raked through his hair, clutching when his mouth roamed across the upper curves of my chest, peppering kisses that left tingles in their wake.

“Tell me if you want to stop,” he managed, voice husky and unsteady, as though one wrong move might shatter his control.

“Don’t you dare stop,” I breathed, hooking a leg around his waist. Even through the remaining sliver of clothing, the heated press of his thigh against mine made me ache with longing.

A rumbling groan tore from his throat. He captured my lips in a fierce, claiming kiss, pinning me to the mattress withthe weight of his body. The brush of his stomach against my bare midriff, the rake of his knuckles along my ribcage—every touch stoked a deeper flame. My nipples tightened beneath my bra, and I moaned, needing him to undo the clasp. He obliged, hands skating around my back, fumbling only briefly before freeing me from the final barrier.

The sensation of my breasts meeting his naked chest made me gasp, delight crackling across my nerve endings. He whispered my name again, reverent, as his mouth moved lower, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses along my sternum, then my stomach. I trembled, threading my fingers into his hair, overwhelmed by the rush of pleasure each caress unlocked.

In a few breathless moments, the last scraps of clothing fell away, and we were skin to skin, flush from shoulders to ankles. My body felt like a live wire, every inch of me tuned to the rasp of his breath, the press of his thighs framing my own. The pace of our movements danced between frantic and languid, shifting whenever we paused to savor the moment—a slow, bruising kiss, a whispered phrase of encouragement, a heated glance that spoke volumes we hadn’t yet dared to say aloud.

I felt the hard lines of his hips settle against mine, and my head tipped back in an involuntary cry, an invitation for him to keep going. The hot slide of him moving in tandem with my body left my mind hazy. Urgency built in my core, swirling with each deep, rolling movement. Soft gasps slipped from my lips, turning into breathless whimpers as I met his rhythm.

He let out a strangled sound of pleasure, pressing his forehead to mine as we clung to each other, chest to chest, hearts hammering out a tribal beat. My hands roamed over his shoulders, down the length of his back, reveling in the tautness of his muscles. We moved in perfect coordination, an unspoken language of give and take that tightened the coil insideme. Eventually, a wave of pure bliss crashed over my senses, wrenching a cry of release from my throat. Ryder groaned against my neck, following me over that same precipice, his entire frame taut with the force of it.

For a timeless moment, neither of us spoke, only the echo of ragged breathing and the faint crackle of the fireplace filling the air. Heat throbbed between our bodies, and a soft glow of satisfaction lit up the edges of my thoughts. I lay there, muscles quivering, realizing that we’d broken every boundary that once defined our “fake” arrangement—and I didn’t regret it for a single second.

Finally, our breathing steadied. Ryder shifted, rolling onto his side to gaze at me. His palm found my cheek again, thumb stroking a path along my jaw. In his dark eyes, I saw a blend of adoration and wonder, reflecting the heady swirl of emotions coursing through my own veins.

“You all right?” he asked, voice tender.

I nodded, exhaling a shaky laugh. “I’m better than all right,” I murmured. My chest still rose and fell with post-climax tremors, a soft afterglow settling over me like a warm blanket. “Thank you.”

He smiled, a slow, contented curve of his lips that set my heart fluttering anew. “I’m the one who should be thanking you,” he whispered. Bending closer, he brushed a gentle kiss across my forehead, then lingered on my mouth, a sweet, lingering caress that contrasted the earlier urgency.

We lay there wrapped in each other, the hush of the evening cradling us. The memory of menacing letters and hidden threats flickered somewhere at the edges of my mind, but in that moment, the only thing I cared about was how safe and cherished I felt in Ryder’s arms. Tomorrow might bring fresh worries, but tonight, under the intimate golden glow of thebedside lamp, we had forged a new truth: what began as a ruse had ignited into something real.

Eventually, exhaustion pulled at our limbs, and we sank deeper into the pillows. With one last, languid kiss and the comforting press of his broad chest against my back, we drifted off into a tangle of arms and legs, lulled by the crackling fireplace and the quiet rhythm of our shared breathing.

Chapter Six

RYDER

When I woke, dawn was slipping through my cabin’s curtains, the embers in the fireplace still casting a faint orange glow. For a moment, I stayed perfectly still, only aware of the comforting warmth at my side and the gentle weight against my chest. Tessa breathed softly, curled under my arm, and the sight of her tousled hair against my pillow made me smile in a way I hadn’t in…well, a long time.

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