Page 9 of Chosen for the Mountain Man

He pauses, then captures my mouth with his. The kiss deepens, and he groans—a needy rumble that goes straight to my core. His hands squeeze my thighs, sending shivers through me, and a wave of anxiety.

I pull back, breathless, my heart pounding. Max looks at me, his eyes dark with desire, but he hesitates.

“Uh...this feels like too much,” I say, even as my body protests.

He nods, his expression softening. “You're right,” he says, voice husky. “We should take our time. I don't want to rush you into anything.”

I smile, grateful for his understanding. But it only makes me want him more.

Dammit.

He stands up, adjusting himself discreetly. I stifle a whimper, clenching my thighs together trying not to imagine how hard his cock is right now.

“How about I make us some dinner?” he says, his voice still rough.

My stomach rumbles in reply. “Sounds good.”

“Ciara,” he begins. “I’ve waited a long time to meet someone like you. A few hours, a few days…whatever you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

And with that, I wonder how I can continue to hide who I am—or who I want to become.

CHAPTER 5

MAX

Ican't get my fucking mind off Ciara.

Even after dinner, everything about her, from our skinny-dipping to the kiss when we got back, lingers. I know I should give her space, let her decide the pace of this, but I might be a tad obsessed with this woman.

I’m halfway to a fitful sleep when it hits me—I forgot to give her the extra ice pack for the night. My brain yanks me out of bed like a drill sergeant, and I stumble toward the freezer. Her ankle’s probably fine, but it's an excuse to see her again, to make sure she's doing okay.

The second my knuckles tap the wood of the guest room door, her lamp flicks on. I hear frantic rustling inside. “Ciara? I forgot…I have ice for your ankle.”

“Oh, come in!” she calls.

I push the door open slowly, and there she is—sitting bolt upright in bed, sheets clutched to her chest like she’s guarding state secrets. Her hair’s a wild halo of strawberry gold, cheeks flushed. She’s adorable. I hold up the ice pack like a peace offering. “Didn’t want you to wake up sore.”

She laughs, tight and nervous. “Thanks, I’ll put it on in a minute.”

My gaze snags on the edge of the comforter where it dips just below her collarbone. Her shoulders are bare. Is she not wearing anything to sleep in? Great. More fodder for my poor dick. “I can just leave it here?—”

A sharp, persistentbuzzcuts me off.

We both freeze.

It’s coming from under the covers.

Ciara’s eyes widen, her face flaming. The buzzing continues, getting louder, like a pissed-off hornet trapped in a cotton prison.

Shock punches a laugh out of me. “Is that what I think it is?”

A vibrator?

“No!” she squeaks. “I mean—yes. Probably. But—oh god.”

My sweet little naughty girl.

“No judgment here.” I hold up a hand. “Just impressed. That thing sounds like it’s hardcore.”

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