Page 15 of Sheltered By the Mountain Man

He removes a couple Band-Aids from the first aid kit, handing them to me. Then he tugs me down onto the couch beside him and arranges my legs across his lap. “You haven't treated those blisters.”

My breath catches. I look at the Band-Aids in my hand and then back at Mason. There's a large blister on the back of each heel where my boots rubbed against my socks as I walked. Somehow, Mason noticed I had them and is making sure they’re taken care of properly.

The skim of his warm palm on my skin as he pulls my socks down sends tingles through my body. My core tightens.

Mason reaches for the antibiotic ointment. “Jesus, sweetheart. Your poor feet.” He smooths some ointment on, then holds his hand out for a bandage.

I hand them back, watching as he covers both blisters on the back of my ankles.

“Are you okay?” he asks, voice low as he puts the antibiotic away.

“Surprised.” I bite my lip, wishing I hadn't said that. I should have said 'thank you' or 'it's better'. Anything other than the implied “I'm shocked you did this.”

A ghost of a smile touches his lips. Mason pulls my socks back up. His warm palm settles on my calves, the touch intimate in the darkness. “I notice everything about you, Bella.”

My heart climbs my throat, and I can't breathe. A maelstrom of emotions whirl through me so fast, I can't even name themall. Surprise. Longing. Fear and desire, certainly. I blink back the sting in my eyes and clear my throat. “Thank you.” For caring for something as insignificant as my blisters. For letting me stay.

I can't say them, but they're there, in two little words that don't convey nearly enough.

He doesn't look away from me or pretend not to understand the weight of my words. His thumb brushes along my calf once more before he lets go.

“I need to stoke the fire,” he says, pushing to his feet.

He should rest his ankle. But Mason doesn't sit around, even with an injury.

At least I can help by feeding the dog. My stomach grumbles, reminding me that the pup isn't the only one who's hungry.

I pad into the kitchen and grab the lantern to find Nitro's food. The dog leaps over the couch like a champion hurdler and races into the kitchen, sliding to a stop next to my leg. “Show off. You've practiced that.”

Nitro barks.

I laugh and put his food dish down, then search for something for us. Thankfully, Mason has a gas stove. I find a can of soup, pasta, even some bread and cheese. “I can make us grilled cheese and soup?”

He sets the fire poker aside. “You cook?”

“Enough to not starve. I probably won't even burn the grilled cheese.” I flash him a cheeky smile to let him know I'm kidding—mostly.

Mason chuckles and comes to stand beside me. “I'll make the soup.”

He's so tall, I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. “You don't trust me to cook?”

Something flickers in his gaze, gone before I can identify it.

He cups my cheek, stroking his thumb across my skin. “I do. You shouldn't trust me.”

My stomach drops. “Why not?”Please don't say I've been wrong about you.

He shifts closer, and this time, heat blazes in his gaze. “Because I'm going to do this.”

Mason leans down and presses his lips to mine.

I forget all about soup and storms and dogs. Lifting onto my toes, I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him back.

He slides one hand around my waist, pulling me flush to his body, and tilts my head to deepen the kiss.

It's hot and decadent. He nips my lips, strokes my tongue, and plunders my mouth, all while holding me against his hard chest.

Lava flows in my veins, pooling in my core, and making my nipples bead. I spear my fingers through the short hair at the back of his neck, pressing as close as I can.

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