Page 9 of Found By the Mountain Man
We're staring at each other across the small space between couch and chair, the air crackling with tension that has nothing to do with the storm outside. I should be thinking about professional boundaries, about the fact that he saved my life, about the very obvious age difference between us.
Instead, all I can think about is how badly I want him to close that distance.
"I should let you rest," he says, but he doesn't move. His hands are gripping the arms of his chair like he's fighting not to reach for me.
"I'm not tired." It's mostly true. The adrenaline of our charged moment has burned away any lingering drowsiness.
"Mavis." My name again, this time almost pained. "You've been through trauma. Your body needs rest."
"My body needs a lot of things right now," I interrupt, and watch his breathing change. "Sleep isn't one of them."
The admission hangs between us, bold and unmistakable. Connor's jaw tightens, and I see the exact moment his control starts to fracture.
"You don't know what you're saying."
"I'm twenty-six years old, Connor. I know exactly what I'm saying." I sit up straighter, letting the blanket slip slightly. "The question is whether you're going to keep pretending you don't want the same thing."
His eyes drop to where the blanket has shifted, revealing more of my collarbone, the edge of his borrowed t-shirt. When he looks back at my face, there's fire in his gaze.
"This is a bad idea," he says, but he's already rising from his chair.
"Probably." I shift slightly, making room on the couch. "Do you care?"
Instead of answering, he crosses to me in two long strides. For a moment, he just stands there, looking down at me with an expression that's part desire, part reverence, part disbelief.
"Mavis," he breathes, and then he's sinking onto the couch beside me, his hand coming up to cup my face.
"Finally," I whisper, and rise to meet him.
The first kiss is tentative, questioning. His lips are warm and surprisingly soft, moving against mine with careful restraint. Like he's afraid I might break, or disappear, or change my mind.
I deepen the kiss, threading my fingers through his hair and pulling him closer. He tastes like coffee and something uniquely him, and I want more. I need more.
Connor pulls back slightly, searching my face. "Are you sure about this?"
Instead of answering with words, I slide my hands under his flannel shirt, feeling the solid warmth of his chest, the steady beat of his heart. His intake of breath is sharp, hungry.
"Christ, Mavis." His control is hanging by a thread now. "I've been trying not to think about this since I pulled you out of that creek."
"Then stop trying," I murmur against his mouth. "Stop thinking. Just feel."
That breaks something loose in him. His mouth crashes back to mine, no longer tentative but demanding, consuming. His hands frame my face, then slide into my hair, tilting my head to deepen the kiss.
I melt into him, every nerve ending coming alive under his touch. His beard scrapes against my skin in the most delicious way, and I can't help the small moan that escapes me.
The sound seems to drive him wild. His hands move to my waist, spanning it easily with his large palms, pulling me closer until I'm almost in his lap. I can feel the heat of him through the thin fabric of his t-shirt I'm wearing, and I can feel the evidence of his desire pressing against my hip.
"You're so beautiful," he murmurs against my neck, his voice rough with want. "When I saw you lying there by the creek, so still and cold... I thought I was too late." There's something raw in his voice, something that speaks to how deeply my near-death affected him.
"I'm okay," I whisper, trailing my hands over his shoulders, memorizing the feel of solid muscle under warm skin. "I'm here. I'm alive."
"Because of you," I add, pulling back to look at him. "You saved me."
Something fierce and possessive flickers in his eyes. "I almost lost you before I even found you."
"You didn't lose me," I tell him, then lean in to press a soft kiss to his jaw. "I'm right here."
Connor's hands tighten on my waist, and I feel him tremble slightly. The idea that I can affect this strong, capable man so deeply is intoxicating.
