Page 20 of Striking Out In The Mountains

His dark eyes snap to mine, serious and full of heat as he steps into my house. “Mind them?”

He sets the flower down on the small table by the door and cups my shoulders, his thumbs brushing lightly over the curveof my collarbone. “Cara, are you kidding me? Your muscles are beautiful. They’re incredible. They’re you. They make you strong. They keep you safe when I’m not there. They protect you and probably scare the crap out of anyone who would dare mess with you. Do you know how hot that is? How could I not find that sexy?”

I blink, caught completely off guard. “Sexy?”

I’ve never thought of myself as sexy. Especially not my muscles. I thought they took away from my appeal, not elevated it. But the way Graham says it—like it’s the most obvious truth in the world—makes my heart stutter.

“So sexy,” he says, his big hands sliding down my arms, fingers grazing the curves of my biceps. “You’re strong, and you’re beautiful. I can’t believe you don’t see that.”

No one’s ever spoken about me like this before—like my strength isn’t something to be ashamed of but something to admire. Towant.

My self-consciousness begins to drift away with his lustful gaze. Years of insecurity built up strong like concrete walls begin to crack with the tender way he’s touching me. He’s looking at me like I’m a goddess he wants to worship with every breath he takes.

My breath catches. A shiver runs down my spine. I wasn’t expecting this…

To feel sexy. To feel beautiful.

“I…” My words falter as my heart races. “You really mean that?”

“You are perfect,” he says as he leans down and kisses my shoulder softly. “I wouldn’t change a thing.”

I swallow hard as he kisses my collarbone. My head lolls back as he kisses my other shoulder. God, it feels good. Not just his lips and hands… It feels good not to hate the way I look, even if it’s just for a moment.

Something shifts inside me—a warmth and a confidence I haven’t felt in years, if ever. I reach out, grab his shirt in my hands, and pull him inside. I kick the door closed and push him up against the wall. He grins at me when he feels my strength.

“Cara—,” he starts, but I cut him off, my lips crashing into his.

It’s not a hesitant kiss from an insecure girl. It’s bold, demanding, and fueled by the intense emotions swirling inside me. It’s filled with gratitude, desire, and a lustful need.

I slide my hands into his hair as he kisses me back, matching my intensity while his strong hands squeeze my waist and pull me closer. His mouth is so warm and inviting. He’s a good kisser. I could do this all night.

The kiss deepens, slowing as if he’s savoring every second. One of his hands slides up my back, his fingers threading into my hair, while the other stays firm on my waist, holding me possessively like I might disappear if he lets go.

When we finally pull apart, we’re both breathless, his forehead resting lightly against mine. His eyes are dark and full of something erotic that sends a shiver tingling down my spine.

The warmth in my chest travels between my legs, making my pussy ache with need. I’ve never felt this way before—so wanted, so desirable, so beautiful.

For the first time in forever, I don’t feel like I need to apologize for who I am or what I look like. Graham has made me feel like I’m perfect just the way I am.

A fierce need to make him feel good takes over and my fingertips begin to tingle. My mouth waters as I feel his erection pressing against my thigh. He groans as I push into it, feeling his hardness.

“What time is our reservation?” I ask before kissing him again, soft and gentle on his sexy lips.

“Six thirty,” he says, his strong hands holding me against him.

“We’re going to be late,” I say as I lick his taste off my lips, my mouth watering.

He grins as he stares at my mouth. “I don’t fucking care.”

“Good,” I say as I drop to my knees in front of him. “Because I need a few more minutes.”

I know this part isn’t normally at the beginning of a date, but I can’t seem to stop myself. I need himnow.

He drops the back of his head against the wall and groans as I grab a hold of his belt. With my heart pounding, I yank it out.

My hands are trembling, but it’s not nerves—it’s anticipation. It’s excitement. Graham’s head is still tipped back against the wall, his big chest rising and falling with each labored breath. When he looks down at me, his dark possessive eyes lock onto mine and the intensity in his gaze steals my breath away.

“You’re killing me, girl,” he says, his voice rough and hoarse.

---