Page 11 of Stranded with the Mountain Man

To my surprise, Jace doesn't look concerned. "Look closer. See how the grain opens there? Some woodworkers spend hours trying to achieve what you just did accidentally."

I stare at the wood through his eyes. The "mistake" has a certain beauty, revealing layers that would have remained hidden.

"In woodworking, you work with what the material gives you," he continues, his voice low. "Fighting the grain only leads to frustration. The real skill is in adapting, seeing the potential in what others might consider flaws."

Our eyes meet again, and I know we're no longer talking about wood. The air between us thickens with tension.

"I think I'm fighting the grain right now," I whisper.

"How so?" He's standing so close now that I can feel the heat radiating from his body.

"By pretending I don't want to finish what we started last night."

His expression darkens, desire evident in the way his pupils dilate. "Elisa—"

"The power's on now. No interruptions." I take a deliberate step toward him, eliminating the last bit of space between us. "Unless you've changed your mind?"

"Far from it." His voice is a low rumble that I feel in my core. "But are you sure? This complicates things."

"Things are already complicated." I place my hands on his chest, feeling his heart hammering beneath my palm. "And I haven't been able to think straight since you kissed me."

That's all it takes. He backs me against the workbench, his mouth finding mine with an urgency that matches my own. This kiss is different from last night's—deeper, more deliberate, as if he's committing every second to memory.

My hands slide under his shirt, exploring the firm planes of his abdomen, the surprising softness of the hair on his chest. He groans when my nails scrape lightly across his skin.

"Been wanting to hear this all morning," he murmurs against my neck, his beard creating a delicious friction that makes me shiver. "The sounds you make when I touch you." As if to prove his point, his hand cups my breast through my sweater, his thumb circling until I gasp. "Like that."

I arch into his touch, desperate for more. "Jace, please—"

He lifts me onto the workbench, stepping between my legs as his hands push my sweater up. When his mouth replaces his fingers, hot and wet through the thin fabric of my bra, I cry out, threading my fingers through his hair to hold him there.

"Need to taste you," he growls, tugging my bra down to expose my breast. The contrast of the cool air and his hot mouth makes me gasp. “I’ve never seen such perfect tits.”

His tongue circles my nipple before he takes it between his teeth, the gentle pressure sending sparks of pleasure straight to my core. I'm making sounds I barely recognize as my own, my head falling back as he lavishes attention on first one breast, then the other.

"So fucking beautiful," he murmurs against my skin. "Want to touch every inch of you."

His hands find the button of my jeans, looking up for permission. I nod frantically, beyond caring about anything except having his hands on me. He makes quick work of the zipper, his fingers dipping beneath the waistband of my underwear.

When he touches me, we both groan.

"Christ, you're soaked," he says, his voice rough with desire. "Is this all for me, sweetheart?"

"Yes," I gasp as his fingers explore me with devastating precision. "Please don't stop this time."

"Not stopping," he promises, his eyes locked on mine as he slides one thick finger inside me. "Not until I feel you come apart."

His thumb circles my clit as his finger curls inside me, finding that perfect spot that makes my hips buck. "There it is," he murmurs, adding a second finger. "So responsive. So perfect."

The praise washes over me, heightening every sensation. I clutch at his shoulders, my nails digging in through his shirt as the pressure builds. "Jace, I need—"

"Tell me," he commands, his fingers never slowing. "Tell me what you need."

"More," I manage, beyond embarrassment. "Need you inside me."

His eyes darken further, a muscle in his jaw tightening. "You sure?"

"Yes," I breathe. "Please."

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