Page 14 of Guardian of Talon Mountain

"I mean it, Caleb."

"So do I."

We’re too close. His breath grazes my lips, warm and steady, sending a shiver down my spine. My heart pounds, a frantic rhythm against my ribs, like it’s trying to outrun the tension sparking between us.

"You going to hit me again?" he asks.

"Maybe."

"You better make it count."

The heat behind his words barely has time to fade before he moves—slowly and deliberately. One arm snakes around my waist, the other cradles the back of my neck, and he pushes me back against the iron headboard. The metal frame is cool against my spine, unforgiving. His scent—smoke, icy wind, leather—floods my senses, thick and male and unmistakably Caleb.

Heat detonates low in my belly, spreading in a rush of molten want—fast, wild, and overwhelming. My breath stutters, lips parting on a soft gasp I can't swallow down. This isn't some reckless collision of mouths; it's deliberate. Calculated. Dominant. And it unravels me, every nerve ending alive with need. My thighs tense, hips rising instinctively as if my body’s already surrendered, craving more. I'm so turned on I ache with it—hunger blooming deep and raw, logic incinerated in the blaze he's lit.

His mouth crashes into mine, stealing the breath from my lungs. For a split second, I freeze—stunned by the sheer force of it, by the raw, consuming heat that rips through me like a lightning strike. Then I surrender, wholly and helplessly. The scent of him—smoke, wind, skin—drowns every other thought. The heat of his chest presses into mine, unrelenting, as his lips devour, demand, and claim like he has every right to.

Everything flares, sharp and immediate, firing through my veins with no warning. My fingers seize his shirt, dragging him closer until there’s no space left to breathe, only him. I taste heat, frustration, and a need I’ve buried so deep it roars to the surface like a blaze meeting oxygen. He doesn’t kiss like a man testing boundaries. He kisses like he’s setting them in stone—staking a claim, branding it with the press of his mouth and the unrelenting command of his body.

His hands grip my hips, anchoring me with a force that sends a shock of need straight through me. I melt against him before I can even try to stop it—his body all hard muscle and heat, every line of him pressed tight to mine, a silent command my flesh is too willing to obey. The scent of him—smoke, leather, wind—wraps around me like a second skin.

My mind screams warning, flares with every rational reason to pull away. But my body betrays me—drawn to the steadiness in his eyes, the quiet command in his voice, the way he watches me like I’m something worth guarding. Like he sees everything I’ve tried to hide and doesn’t flinch. My body arches into him, greedy and unrepentant, already lost to the fire he’s stoked.

I bite his bottom lip. He growls, low and primal, and presses in harder.

I gasp, more from the sharp jolt through my spine than surprise, and he seizes the moment—his tongue sweeping in, coaxing, demanding, claiming. The kiss is a war zone, all friction and fire, and every nerve in my body flares with need. I meet himstroke for stroke, lost in the heat of it. And for all my resistance, all my pride—I don’t want to win.

Then he pulls back, just enough to break the seal between us. My lips tingle, swollen and sensitized. We’re both panting, breath mingling in the thick, electric air—his exhale brushing over my mouth like a whispered demand. My pulse thunders in my ears, my chest rising and falling with ragged urgency. The air crackles around us, tension suspended, sharp as a drawn blade.

"Are you done trying to leave?" he asks, voice rough, eyes searching my face.

I can feel my lips are swollen. My pulse is chaos. I meet his eyes, still defiant.

"For now."

He sits back, but not far, and grins. "Good."

Caleb's hand finds my hip—firm, possessive, like he has every right to touch me. His fingers flex just slightly, grounding me, holding me still. Heat unfurls beneath my skin, sharp and electric, and I can't stop the shiver that follows. My skin hums, nerves flaring awake beneath the press of his palm.

"You going to tell me who’s been on the ridge?" I ask.

His jaw tightens. "Not yet."

"Why not?"

"Because I don’t know. And until I do, you're not setting foot outside... not alone anyhow."

I scowl. "You planning on tying me to your bed?"

He grins lasciviously and waggles his eyebrows. "Don't tempt me. You've had worse ideas."

Before I can stop myself, I ask, "Do I? Tempt you?"

He chuckles. "In ways you can't even begin to guess."

I throw up my hands and hit him with a pillow, which only makes him laugh. The fire’s roaring now, flames twisting across thick logs, spitting sparks like it’s daring the storm to try harder. Each crackle echoes in the stillness, defiant against the wind thatscreams outside. I hiss as a fresh wave of pain knifes through my ankle. The sheets bunch beneath my fingers as I brace myself, breath hitching in my throat.

Caleb holds my gaze for a beat, unreadable, then finally turns toward the kitchen. I hear the soft clink of metal, the creak of a cabinet door swinging open. A kettle lands on the stove with a deliberate thunk. A moment later, the low hiss of the burner kicks in, and the scent of strong, dark coffee begins to bloom—rich, bitter, and grounding.

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