Page 19 of Rugged Mountain Man
I startled at the sound of Cormac’s sleep-rough voice. He lifted his head, propping himself up one elbow.
“Is everything okay?” he asked.
I nodded.
“I was just…”
What? What was I doing here? Watching Cormac sleep in the privacy of his bedroom. There was no decent explanation for that.
A beat of silence stretched between us.
Then Cormac held out his hand, palm up. A wordless invitation to join him. I could take it, or I could walk away.
Biting the inside of my cheek, I stepped into Cormac’s room and placed my hand in his. He closed his strong fingers around mine, stroking his thumb over my knuckles.
I traced the column of his throat, across his collarbones. Then I slipped one of his buttons free. Followed by another. I felt his gaze on my face, felt his free hand curve around my hip and pull me closer.
“You don’t owe me anything, KitKat,” Cormac said softly.
“I know,” I whispered.
He sat up, guiding me to stand between his knees as he looked at me. Desire radiated from him like heat.
I thought being alone would bring me the peace I needed after Brock’s terror. I thought seclusion and isolation was the answer I wanted.
But it wasn’t.
I wanted to be here. Beside Cormac. I wanted to love and be loved in a way that was patient and soft, where we kissed each other through the messes and we cleaned them up together.
Cormac pressed his palm to my cheek, threading his fingers into my hair. I closed my eyes, leaning into his touch.
Hooking his arms around my waist, he tugged me down into his lap. I straddled him with my breath in my throat and my heart pounding hard enough to make my chest ache.
I skimmed my hands along his biceps, over his shoulders, scratching lightly at his scalp. A low, pleased growl rumbled in his chest.
“Fuck, that feels good.”
A smile spread across my lips, thrilled that I affected him like this. He rested his forehead on my shoulder, sliding his palms down to cup my ass. I gasped, rocking against the rapidly hardening bulge of his cock beneath me.
“Did you really mean it?” I whispered against the top of his head.
“What?” Cormac replied, muffled in the fabric of my pajama top.
“You said someone would go the distance for me one day. And you wished that man could be you.”
Cormac’s hands froze and his fingertips tightened, digging into my skin. He lifted his head to meet my gaze.
“I said that out loud?”
My heart lurched. This was it. Cormac would take it back, denying that he said it and I must have been imagining things. I smoothed my thumb along his jawline, down to the rhythmic flutter of his pulse. He really was handsome, strong. I couldn’t understand why he would be attracted to me.
“Of course I meant it,” Cormac said. “But you need time, to heal, to be alone—”
“I’ve been alone already,” I cut in. “I grew up in the foster system, but I was never adopted. I didn’t have any friends, I didn’t date, until…”
Until Brock. Until I was so desperate for the love I never had that I pounced on the first person who paid attention to me.
With Cormac, I had a taste of what true, real love felt like. And I wanted that for the rest of my life.
