Page 6 of Trapped with the Mountain Man

Something shifts in his expression as he recognizes that maybe I’m more than a silly city girl. "Why were you on the mountain, Tessa? Really?"

The question catches me off guard with its directness, but I find myself answering honestly. "I needed to escape. My life in the city where people only see parts of me. The parts that are useful to them." I take a deep breath. "I broke up with someone recently. He wasn't right for me—I knew that—but when he left, he said that I was boring. Predictable."

Corbin's brow furrows. "So you hiked up a mountain alone to prove him wrong?"

"No," I say quickly, then reconsider. "Well, maybe partly. But mostly, I needed to prove something to myself. Prove that I could still surprise myself. That there was more to me than monthly reports and coffee dates."

The rain continues its steady rhythm, creating a strange sense of intimacy in our stone shelter. Corbin is quiet for a long moment, stoking the fire with methodical care.

"People say they want connection with nature," he finally says, "but they want it on their terms. Safe. Controlled. That's not how it works." His eyes meet mine again. "Nature doesn't care about your expectations or your comfort. It just is. That's what makes it real."

"Is that why you left? To find something real?"

He nods once, a sharp movement. "Fifteen years in an office. Making money for people who already had too much of it. Surrounded by performances. Everyone pretending. I couldn't breathe there."

I understand exactly what he means. I've felt that same suffocation, that same hollowness. In his few sentences, he's articulated something I've struggled to explain even to myself.

I shift position, my foot slipping slightly on the smooth stone floor. Before I can catch myself, I'm pitching forward toward the fire. Corbin moves with startling speed, one strong arm catching me around the waist, pulling me back against his chest. For a moment, we freeze in that position—my back pressed against his front, his arm secure around me, his breath warm against my hair.

"Sorry," I murmur, not moving away. "Clumsy."

"It's fine," he says, his voice rough. But he doesn't remove his arm immediately.

When he does finally release me, the loss of contact is almost painful. I turn toward him, and suddenly, we're face to face, closer than we've been before. I can see the flecks of gold in his dark eyes, the faint scar above his left eyebrow, and the shadow of stubble along his jaw.

"Thank you," I say, though I'm not entirely sure whether I'm thanking him for catching me or for something else.

His eyes drop briefly to my lips before returning to meet my gaze. "You're welcome."

The tension between us is palpable now, as if a living thing were occupying the small space with us. I wonder if he feels it, too. This connection seems to strengthen with each passing hour.

"I think I needed this," I admit. "Not getting stranded in a storm, obviously. But stepping outside my comfortable life. Meeting someone who sees the world differently." I pause, gathering courage. "Meeting you."

Corbin reaches out slowly, giving me time to move away if I wanted to, and brushes a strand of hair from my face. His fingers linger against my cheek, calloused but gentle.

"This isn't smart," he says, but he doesn't pull his hand away.

"I didn't come up here to be smart," I whisper. "I came to feel alive."

I'm not sure which of us moves first. All I know is that suddenly his lips are on mine, tentative at first, then with growing certainty. His hand cradles my face like I'm something precious, something he's afraid might break. I lean into him, my fingers finding purchase in the soft fabric of his shirt, drawing him closer.

The kiss deepens, and with it, something inside me awakens—a hunger I've kept carefully contained, a wildness I've never allowed myself to express. Corbin responds in kind, his restraint giving way to something primal and honest. There's no performance here, no holding back. Just two people connecting with a raw intensity that takes my breath away.

four

Corbin

Wehaven’tsaidasingle word to each other since that kiss.

I watch the rain soften against the cave entrance, a rhythm I've learned to read like others read clocks. The storm isn't done with us yet. Night is coming, and with it, a drop in temperature that could be dangerous if we're not careful. I've survived countless mountain nights, but tonight feels different. Everything feels different with her here.

Tessa sits across from me, her hair catching the firelight in ways that make it hard to look away. Golden strands frame her face, and those hazel eyes reflect the dancing flames. Twenty-five. Fifteen years between us. I shouldn't notice how the firelight caresses her skin or how her smile transforms her face, but I do. I notice everything about her.

"The temperature will drop tonight," I say, keeping my voice measured. "We'll need to conserve body heat."

She nods, understanding the practical necessity. She’s aware of the tension that's been building between us since that kiss. The kiss I shouldn't have allowed myself to take.

"I've never been good at being cold," she admits with a small laugh. "In the city, I'm the one with three blankets, even in spring."

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