Page 19 of Connecting with the Mountain Man

Big mistake. Because now I can’t stop looking.

Her lips are pink from where she’s been biting them, her apron cinched tight around that sweet little waist, hugging every curve. And when she shifts, I catch just the faintest press of her nipples against the fabric of her shirt.

Fuck I shouldn’t be here. I need to walk away. But I don’t.

Instead, I step closer—close enough to catch the faintest hint of sugar and vanilla on her skin.

“I’m fine,” she says, blinking quickly when I’m suddenly in her space.

Good. Because I’m done pretending this isn’t happening. I stop at the edge of the counter, my hand resting near hers, our knuckles brushing.

“Sure about that?” I murmur, my eyes locking on hers.

For a second, she freezes.

Then—she’s in my arms. I don’t know who moved first but we’re on each other in seconds and all I know is that her lips are on mine, soft and hungry, her hands fisting the front of my shirt like she’s afraid I’ll disappear if she lets go.

Not happening.

I cup the back of her head, tilting her chin up and deepening the kiss, my tongue sliding against hers, tasting the sweet, addictive flavor of her. She tastes so damn good.

Fuck.

I’ve imagined this kiss a hundred different ways, but none of them compared to the real thing. Her body presses against mine, soft curves molding to hard edges, and I can feel the rapid thud of her heart through the thin fabric of her shirt.

She gasps when I nip at her bottom lip, and I groan, my hands sliding down to her waist, gripping tight, tugging her closer until she’s flush against me.

My cock throbs against the front of my jeans, hard and aching, and I don’t care if she feels it. I want her to. I want her to know what she does to me. Because I’m done pretending I don’t want this.

I want her.

I need her.

I press her back against the counter, one hand sliding up to cup the side of her neck, tilting her head so I can kiss her deeper, rougher, swallowing the soft little moans she tries to hold back.

And when she arches into me, pressing those soft, perfect tits against my chest, I lose whatever thread of control I had left. My hand slides lower, fingers skimming over the curve of her ass before I grip tight, pulling her flush against me. Her breath hitches, but she doesn’t stop me. Doesn’t pull away. Instead, Eden presses closer, her hips rolling in slow, deliberate circles against my cock, and it’s all I can do not to groan into her mouth. She’s gyrating her pussy against my cock.

Fuck.

I palm her ass, kneading her soft flesh through her jeans, dragging her tighter against the length straining behind my zipper. She gasps into my mouth, but I swallow the sound, tilting her head back, deepening the kiss until there’s nothing left but heat and the rough scrape of our tongues.

I need more.

I press her back against the counter, hips pinning her there. Her breasts brush my chest, and I swear I feel her nipples stiffen through her thin shirt, pressing right against me.

I pull back just enough to look down, watching the way her chest rises and falls in quick, shallow breaths. Her nipples strain against the fabric, hard and begging for my mouth.

“Eden…” I rasp, my voice thick with want.

Her eyes flicker to mine, hazy and heavy-lidded, but she doesn’t say a word. Just bites her lip, waiting. I don’t make her wait long. I dip my head, closing my mouth around one of her peaks, sucking her nipple right through her shirt.

Goddamn.

Her back arches, pushing herself deeper into my mouth, fingers fisting in my hair as I drag my tongue over the hardened point, tasting the thin cotton stretched over her skin.

She moans low in her throat, and I slide my hand up her waist, cupping her other breast, thumb flicking over the stiff tip.

“Silas,” she pants, breathless now, hips grinding against my cock like she’s chasing something neither of us are ready to stop.

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