Page 9 of Arctic Mountain Man
I wanted to show her everything about my mountain. I wanted to take her to the clearing where the wildflowers grew thick in summer. I wanted to show her the stream where the water ran so clear you could see straight to the bottom. I wanted to watch her face when she saw the view from the ridge at sunset.
I wanted to let her in.
The emotion was new and foreign, unsettling in its intensity. Ever since I’d moved here, I’d guarded my solitude like a jealous lover. This mountain was my sanctuary, my escape from the world. I didn’t share it. I didn’t share anything.
But looking at Sadie, seeing the way she’d looked at my work with such genuine appreciation, hearing her talk about writing like it was something precious she’d lost—I wanted to give her pieces of myself I’d forgotten existed.
“So what do we do?” she asked, and there was something shy in her voice, something hopeful that made my chest clench.
“We could hike,” I said, watching her face for any sign of reluctance. “There’s a trail that leads to a waterfall about a mile from here. Easy walk, good view.”
Her face lit up. “Really? You’d want to do that?”
I’d want to do anything if it means spending more time with you.
“Yeah.”
She grinned, and it was like watching the sun come out from behind the clouds. “That sounds perfect.”
Perfect.When was the last time anything in my life had been perfect?
“Let me go grab a jacket,” she said, already standing. “You know, just in case I get stranded again.”
“Not on my watch,” I growled.
Her flush made me ache to see her naked, with my hand between her thighs and her nails digging into my shoulders. Damn, I was about to come in my pants from just a wayward thought.
I watched her disappear into the cabin, my hands clenched on the arms of my chair. This was dangerous territory. Every minute I spent with her, every smile she gave me, every time she looked at me—it was breaking down walls I’d spent years building.
But I couldn’t seem to stop myself.
I walked into the kitchen and grabbed my backpack. I kept it ready out of habit. She walked out of my bedroom, smiling, and I felt that unfamiliar tug in my chest again.
“Ready?” I asked.
“Ready.”
I led her around the side of the cabin, her presence beside me filling an empty spot I didn’t know was there. Or hadn’t wanted to acknowledge. She was close enough that I could smell her shampoo, something light and floral that reminded me of summer mornings. Close enough that every step had me imagining bending her over the nearest tree, that floral scent mixing with the taste of her arousal.
Her skin was warm and soft under my palm, and I had to force myself to let go.
“Thanks,” she said, slightly breathless.
“Careful.”
“I will be. I promise not to twist anything else while I’m here.”
“Good.” It came out flat, but underneath it pulsed with meaning I had no business giving away.
We walked in comfortable silence for a while, the only sounds were our footsteps on the trail and the rustle of wind through the trees. The path was well-maintained—I’d cleared it myself over the years—and it wound through stands of pine and oak before opening up to reveal glimpses of the valley below.
“God, it’s beautiful up here,” Sadie said, stopping to look out over the view. “How do you ever get anything done with scenery like this?”
That made me smile. “You kind of push it to the background. But you never get use to it. There’s always something new you’ve never seen before.”
She laughed. “Yeah, like a bickering couple disturbing your peace and quiet.”
“I’m glad they did.”
