Page 16 of Sheltered By the Mountain Man

His shoulders are so broad, when he wraps both arms around me, I feel surrounded by him. Sheltered from the storm outside even while his kiss builds another inside me.

One large hand slides down my back to cup my ass, pressing my lower body closer, until the thick, hard length of him brushes my belly. He kisses me harder, his fingers sliding even lower until they press between my thighs.

I can't help the moan that escapes. I want his hands there. On my breasts. Everywhere.

He breaks the kiss and presses his forehead to mine. His breath brushes over my lips as he pants for air.

“You're beautiful, Bella.”

When he says it, I believe him.

Mason kisses my forehead and releases me.

No.I'm burning for more.

“Soup,” he mutters, putting space between us. “Got it.”

What just happened? Why did he stop? Doesn't he want this?

I'm confused until I realize his shoulders are tense and his jaw is tight. He's restraining himself, for me. That makes me feel powerful in a way I've never experienced.

The feeling is... heady.

We spend the next hour making our simple dinner and eating in front of the fire.

Nitro sighs and lumbers to his feet, looking out the back door.

“I think he's trying to tell me something,” Mason grumbles.

“Want me to take him out?”

Mason glowers at me. “It's dark and stormy out. I'm not letting you go out there. Especially when this bonehead might decide to take off again.”

“You can barely walk.”

“I'd hike this whole damn mountain before I'd put you in danger.” He shoves to his feet, grabs his sodden jacket, and gets his boots on. “Let's go, Nitro.”

Stubborn man. I gather the dishes and rinse them off, then put them in the dishwasher. With nothing else to do, I take a better look at the cabin.

Despite its outdated furnishings, it's clean and looks well-maintained. The kitchen and living area are fairly large, and in addition to Mason's bedroom and the hall bath, there's a second room I initially mistook for another closet. Mason has it set up as an office.

I wander back into the living area and study the few pictures on the table by the door. Squinting closer in the dim light, I recognize a couple of the men with Mason. In one picture, a younger Everett squats at the front of the group, holding a rifle over his lap. In another, Mason has his elbow on Caleb's shoulder, propping himself up on the shorter man. They're grinning, as are the rest of the group, and I can almost feel the warmth and camaraderie between them. Mason looks relaxed and content, in all the photos except for the last.

I pick up the frame, studying the picture. It's in the Middle East, I'd guess, by the sand-colored buildings. He’s standing with a boy of about seven or eight. Neither of them are smiling. Will he ever talk to me about it? I want to know all about him. The backdoor opens, and I quickly put the picture back.

A blast of cold air swirls through the room as Mason and Nitro come back in. The dog shakes, water droplets flying off his fur in all directions, then flops onto his bed by the fire.

Mason shrugs out of his jacket and remove his boots. There’s a tense line to his shoulders that wasn’t there a few minutes ago and an odd look on his face.

“Everything okay?”

“One of the windows in the garage was open to the weather. I don’t remember leaving it open. Nothing looked damaged.” He runs a hand through his hair, then shakes his head.

Something in his tone makes me a little uneasy. But that evaporates when he comes closer and laces our fingers together.

“It smells like snow. I wouldn't be surprised if we woke up to a few inches tomorrow.”

His words, spoken in that husky voice, conjure a fantasy of waking in his arms, surrounded by him, my back against his chest and his hand low on my belly while he presses soft kisses to my neck.

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