Page 33 of Bossy Mountain Daddies
The kiss deepens, her body pressing against mine in the water. Her hands tangle in my wet hair, and I grip her waist, pulling her even closer. We fit together perfectly, like we've known each for years instead of days.
When we finally break apart, we're both breathing hard. Water droplets cling to her eyelashes, and I brush them away gently with my thumb.
"Still cold?" I ask.
She laughs, the sound echoing off the rock walls around us. "Not anymore."
Her laugh hits me right in the center of my chest, and I know I'm falling for her—this woman who walked into my bar with her broken car and broken heart, who's going to leave as soon as both are fixed. And I'll let her go when the time comes, because that's what she needs. But for now, in this hidden place with the water swirling around us, I'll take whatever she's willing to give.
Chapter 10
Skye
The cold water bites at my skin as Griff's mouth moves against mine, his hands sliding up my back, pulling me closer. His tongue traces my bottom lip, and I open to him.
My body is caught between two sensations—burning desire and numbing cold—and for a moment, I can't tell which is winning. But then a shiver runs through me that has nothing to do with his touch, and I reluctantly pull away.
"I'm freezing," I admit, my teeth starting to chatter.
His eyes search mine, and he nods. "Come on," he says, taking my hand and leading me toward the shore. Water streams down our bodies as we emerge, the air warm against my wet skin. Griff grabs the blanket we were sitting on earlier and wraps it around my shoulders.
"Better?" he asks, his voice rough.
I nod, clutching the edges of the blanket and trying to get my teeth to stop chattering. "Much. But what about you?"
He shrugs, droplets sliding down his chest, following the contours of his muscles. "I run hot."
I can't help but laugh at the understatement. Everything about him is hot—the way he looks at me, the way his wet boxerscling to his thighs, the intensity in his eyes as they travel over my body.
He glances around the clearing, then starts gathering our things. "Come with me," he says, nodding toward a cluster of trees to our right. "There's a spot over there that's more private."
I follow him, the blanket dragging behind me like a cape, our wet footprints marking our path across the sun-warmed rocks. He leads me to a small, grassy area partially hidden by a grouping of pines. The waterfall is still visible, but we're tucked away from the main clearing, screened by trees and boulders.
Griff spreads our things out on the grass. I stand watching him, suddenly shy despite the intimacy we've already shared.
He looks up at me, a question in his eyes. "We don't have to?—"
"I want to," I say quickly, letting the blanket slip from my shoulders. The air hits my wet skin, raising goosebumps along my arms, but it's not from the cold this time.
He crosses the space between us in two strides. His hands cup my face, tilting it up to his. "You're fucking incredible, Skye. I can’t keep my hands off you," he murmurs, then kisses me.
We sink to the blanket together. His hands are everywhere—stroking my sides, cupping my breasts through the wet fabric of my bra, sliding down to grip my hips. I arch into his touch, my hands exploring the broad expanse of his back, the solid muscles of his shoulders.
"You're still cold," he says against my neck, his breath hot on my skin.
"Then warm me up," I challenge.
His eyes darken, and he reaches behind me to unclasp my bra. I lift my arms, letting him slide the wet fabric away. His gaze is hungry as it takes me in, and I can hardly wait until his mouth is on me.
"Let me see what I can do," he breathes, lowering his head to take one nipple into his mouth.
I gasp, my back arching off the blanket. His tongue swirls around the sensitive bud, teeth grazing just enough to send sparks shooting through me. One of his hands slides down my stomach to the waistband of my underwear, fingers teasing along the edge.
"These need to come off," he says, looking up at me.
I lift my hips, letting him drag the wet fabric down my legs. His eyes roam over my naked body with such open appreciation that I feel myself flush with pleasure.
"Your turn," I say, tugging at the waistband of his boxers.
