Page 18 of Rugged Mountain Man
“I know,” she whispered.
But her body didn’t. Not yet anyway. The memories still haunted her, sending her instincts into overdrive. I smoothed my hands down her hair, down her back.
Less than a week ago, when we first met, Mika wouldn’t even stand within reach, let alone allow me to touch her like this.
Now she was the one touching me back.
The rest of the day was quiet. I dozed in and out on the couch, groggy from medication. Mika tiptoed through the room once in a while, to check on me, to deposit a snack or a glass of water on the coffee table.
I could always tell she was close from the scent of her soap—apples and honey, like the full bloom of springtime in the heart of winter. She barely made a sound though.
“Cormac.”
I blinked awake. Mika gazed down at me, hazy as a dream. Her hand rested in the middle of my chest, shaking me gently.
“You need to go to bed,” she said.
I curled my fingers around her wrist with a disoriented grunt. When did the room get so dark? Raff had dropped me off before noon. Had I really slept the day away?
Mika took my hand and tugged.
“Come on,” she said. “I can’t carry you, Sasquatch, so you have to walk.”
With a groan, I rose to my feet. Mika pulled my arm around her shoulders, helping me to my room. But she paused at the threshold and she wouldn’t go any further.
“I think…you can handle it from here,” she said.
I grazed my knuckles against her cheek, sweeping my thumb over the curve of her barely concealed bruise. Mika closed her eyes, nuzzling into my palm like a kitten.
Then she stepped back, melting into the darkness.
I stood there, with only my longing for her to keep me company. Dragging myself to bed, I sagged into the mattress and when I closed my eyes, I saw Mika’s face again. But there was no bruise on her cheekbone this time, and her past didn’t make her flinch anymore.
Instead, I dreamed of her curled up beside me, kissing my neck with a little hum of contentment. Warm, safe, and all mine.
Chapter seven
Mika
I couldn’t sleep, tossing and turning in bed. The sheets tangled around my legs, making me feel claustrophobic, like I was trapped. Kicking myself free, I gave up on sleep and drifted down the hall to the living room.
Moonlight reflected off the snow outside, providing enough light that I could clearly see. Cormac’s cabin was beautiful, cozy, and it smelled like a Christmas tree. One wall of the living room was lined with windows overlooking a clearing bordered by woodland. Animal tracks crisscrossed through the snow in every direction.
A large stone hearth housed a fireplace nearly as big as I was, and I warmed my hands by the glowing embers for a while.
I wrapped my arms around my middle, chewing my lower lip. Ever since Cormac had touched my cheek in the car, delirious from blood loss in the middle of that storm, I couldn’t get him offmy mind. I wanted more, so much more. I wanted him to touch me everywhere with his callused hands, gentle and steady.
When I broke the glass, I thought he would be angry. I thought he would scold me for being a stupid klutz, like Brock used to do.
Instead, he held me. Kissed my temple and whispered reassurance that it was nothing more than a cup and a mess that was easy to clean up. Even though his leg pained him, Cormac helped me sweep up the glass, too.
I glanced in the direction of Cormac’s bedroom.
Someone will go the distance for you one day, Mika. And I wish to God that man could be me.
Tiptoeing to Cormac’s door, I stopped at the threshold for a second time. His door was open, his sleeping form shrouded in sheets. With his face turned toward the moonlight, I could clearly see the rise and fall of his chest on every breath. The collar of his shirt was unbuttoned, revealing the tanned hollow of his throat, sculpted muscle, and dark hair.
“Mika?”
