Page 10 of Snowed in with the Mountain Man

I freeze, certain I've misinterpreted. Then she moves again, a subtle roll of her hips that couldn't possibly be accidental.

"Phoebe..." I manage, my voice rough as pine bark.

She turns in my arms until we're face to face, our breath mingling in the cold air between us. Even in the dim light filtering up from the banked fire below, I can see her eyes are dark, pupils wide.

"I'm not usually this forward," she says, "but we could actually die in this storm, and you're ridiculously hot, and I haven't been touched in weeks, and—"

I cut off her rambling with my mouth, unable to hold back any longer. Her lips are soft, pliant, opening instantly beneath mine. The kiss deepens immediately, her tongue sliding against mine. She tastes like the mint tea we drank earlier and something else, something uniquely her.

My hand finds her waist, slides up to cup her breast through the thermal shirt. She moans softly against my mouth, arching into the touch.

"We shouldn't," I murmur, even as my thumb brushes across her hardened nipple.

"Probably not," she agrees, her hands already pushing up my henley, fingers splaying across my bare stomach. "But I really, really want to."

Her touch ignites something primal in me, something I've kept buried too long. I roll her onto her back, settling between her thighs. The position aligns us perfectly, my hardness pressed against her core, separated by too many layers of clothing.

"You have no idea what you're doing to me," I growl against her neck.

She laughs, breathless and wanting. "I think I have some idea." Her hand slides between us, palming my cock through my jeans. "Unless you're just really happy about the blizzard."

A laugh rumbles through my chest. This woman—so quick-witted even now.

"I want you," I tell her, pulling back to look into her eyes. "But I need to know this isn't just because we're stuck here."

Her expression softens. "Would it matter if it was?"

"Yes." The answer comes without hesitation.

She studies my face, then reaches up to trace my beard-roughened jaw. "I wanted you the moment I saw you in your store."

That's all I need to hear. I capture her mouth again, kissing her deeply while my hands tug at her clothes. We wrestle awkwardly with layers, laughing when she gets tangled in her thermal shirt, cursing when I bang my elbow trying to shimmy out of my jeans without leaving the relative warmth of the sleeping bag.

And then, finally, we're skin to skin.

"Jesus," I breathe, taking in the sight of her. Soft curves, smooth skin glowing in the faint firelight. "You're beautiful."

Color floods her cheeks, but she doesn't look away. Instead, her gaze travels down my body, lingering on the tattoo across my ribs, the scar on my shoulder, the unmistakable evidence of my want for her.

"You're not so bad yourself, mountain man," she says, running her fingers through the hair on my chest. "All this time hiding under flannel."

I lower myself to her again, the feeling of her naked beneath me almost overwhelming. She's warm now, no trace of her earlier shivers. My mouth finds her neck, tasting the salt of her skin, feeling her pulse race beneath my lips.

"Tell me what you want," I murmur against her collarbone.

"Everything," she says simply. "I want everything."

I take my time, exploring her body with hands and mouth. Learning what makes her gasp, what makes her arch, what makes her dig her nails into my shoulders. When I finally take her nipple into my mouth, she cries out, her hands tangling in my hair.

"More," she demands. "Please, Aiden."

I trail kisses down her stomach, settling between her thighs. The first taste of her nearly undoes me—hot and slick and ready. I groan against her, the vibration making her buck against my mouth.

"Oh God," she gasps, thighs trembling as I circle her clit with my tongue. "Yes, just like that."

I work her with deliberate precision, adding a finger, then two, curling them inside her until I find the spot that makes her back bow off the floor. Her hands clutch at my hair, her voice a stream of encouragement and profanity that stokes my own desire higher.

"I'm close," she pants. "So close. Don't stop."

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