Page 9 of Redemption in Misty Mountain

I shouldn’t do this… but I do.

I turn my face to his touch. My lips brush the heel of his palm. His breath shudders out, and the sound makes something deep in my stomach twist. His forehead presses to mine, and for a long, silent moment, we just breathe the same air. The past and the present collapse into each other, and suddenly, there’s no space between us. I close my eyes and plant my mouth back on his.

“Rosalie.” My name on his lips is laced with hesitation. It’s half a whisper and half a prayer.

“I’m sure,” I whisper because I am.

His lips find mine all over again. It’s slow at first like he’s memorizing me. But then I’m kissing him back in a frenzy of desire. My fingers grip the front of his shirt, pulling him closer and needing more.

The storm rages outside, wind howling through the trees. But here, wrapped in Dawson’s arms, there’s only heat.

His kisses blaze a trail down my neck, causing me to shiver as his lips brush my skin. Dawson’s hands grip my shouldersand press me into the pillow with an intensity that ignites every nerve. I am consumed by the sensation.

He plants soft, sweet kisses across the scratches on my chest. Then his mouth is urgent, and ravenous as he descends further. Dawson’s hair is soft and slightly damp as it grazes against my chest. I exhale, releasing the weight of the past while his mouth sears a path across my skin, leaving a burning trail that tingles long after.

Dawson presses a hand to my inner thigh and I let my legs fall open for him. He runs his tongue down the length of my glistening slit and I feel the sensation shoot through me.

I gasp, clutching his head with trembling fingers, pulling him closer with a desperate need, craving him impossibly nearer. Shockwaves surge through me, yet he is relentless and his pace unyielding. He takes his time working me until my body wracks with trembles and I’m thrusting my hips up to meet him. I’m desperate for more friction and he’s happy to give it to me.

When he kneels in front of me, I grasp his firm length between my fingers and find he’s throbbing with need for me. Dawson slides inside, filling me in a single thrust. My walls collapse along his length as he rocks into me.

The electric hum of the energy between us shuts out the cold from the raging snowstorm outside and right now, I hope it never ends. I give myself to him completely.

I am stretched taut, caught between the comforting warmth of his presence and the exquisite agony of his touch. The whole world fades around us as the sensations peak and he drives me toward the edge.

When I let go, my voice breaks the silence like a sudden clap of thunder. The sound is his name pouring out of my mouth like it never left. It’s like Dawson is the only man who has ever known how to love me. My body trembles with waves of pleasurethat pull him under with me. Hot streams fill me and I take all of him until the last drop.

The snow doesn’t let up for nearly five days… and neither do we.

Dawson and I keep it light. We don’t worry about the impending reality and instead, we take the honeymoon we never had. We make up for lost time in ways neither of us could have imagined. He’s taken to wearing nothing at all, and I’ve taken to shamelessly appreciating the view.

We make love on every surface of the inn. We get lost entirely in each other and in the heat that never seems to fade. The power flickers in and out, but I barely notice. It’s hard to care when I’m trapped beneath Dawson.

Even the cat has warmed up to our little slice of heaven. I’ve taken to calling him Garth, though Dawson refuses in the name of hating cowboys, so he still calls him cat.

Garth’s not exactly a snuggler, but he makes his presence known—occasionally slinking past us with a judgmental flick of his tail. I even caught him napping on Dawson’s back once, like he, too, had surrendered to the warmth of this unexpected truce.

But today, the sun is out. With it comes reality, crashing in through the sound of my phone ringing.

Maisie.

When I answer, her voice bursts through the line. It’s bright and full of excitement. She rambles about the podcast and how she can’t wait for me to get to Kingridge Ranch. She’s lined up a job for me at the Buck and Whinny Horse Stables on the property and secured an apartment with a spare bedroom. It’s everything I’ve been working toward. The fresh start I promised myself.

I hang up and reality looms over me. What are Dawson’s long-term plans? Does he have any? Did he ever achieve the security that was so important to him? Or is this break from the military just a chance to start over on another dream where everything and everyone around him will be pushed to the side?

Life in Texas is waiting for me and it’s everything I wanted. Everything I planned for… So why doesn’t it feel quite as thrilling anymore?

CHAPTER 7

DAWSON

I wakeup to the devastating glare of the sun cutting through the curtains, an uninvited reminder that the world outside still exists. Yesterday, day five of heaven with Rosalie, the ice had started to melt. But I made my case for staying and it stretched the fantasy a little longer.

Today, I already know that won’t work.

This place will shift back into the Hollow Tree Inn in no time. I half expect to see tires crunching up the path at any minute. This week has been a taste of a life that could have been with Rosalie and it’s more than I ever imagined. But the spell is breaking and I’m not ready. Not now. Not ever.

With a sigh, I pull on clothes for the first time in days, the fabric stiff and foreign against my skin. I don’t love it. But the odds of someone who isn’t Rosalie walking through those doors are getting higher by the second.

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