Page 87 of The Mountain Echoes
And damn it if the line doesn’t come out of nowhere, from a book I haven’t thought about since high school. Rochester said it best: “There’s a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly knotted to a similar string in hers.”
What the hell?
Now she’s got me quoting Jane Eyre?
God help me—I am fallinghardfor this woman.
She looks up at me, eyes darker than the shadows pooling between the beds as if she understands the importance of what I just said.
“Why did you bring me herenow?” she asks.
I see her fear. I understand it.
The question is, why don’t I feel the same way? I’m forty years old. I’m a rancher, even if I know how to weara suit well. I haven’t committed to a womanever. I have never felt this way before. And yet, I’m not afraid. What I am is:curious.
I want to explore what I can be with Aria. Probably nothing long-term because that’s never happened before, but I know that whatever time I’ll have with her will definitely be interesting.
“I wanted to show you something important to me.” I’m not hiding how I feel. “I knew you’d like this, appreciate it.” I’m not hiding that I know her.
Her gaze flickers.
I don’t know what she’s thinking, but I know she needed to hear that. Because she’s fighting too. And maybe now, she’ll accept defeat gracefully, give in to me because this chemistry between us needs to be fucked out of our systems.
She looks away and plucks a mint leaf, smells it before popping it into her mouth. “It’s summer in here.”
“I come here at the end of long days…helps me think.”
She nods, like she understands that too well. “I bet.”
“You’re welcome at the end of your long days, Aria.” It’s a permission I’ve never given a woman whom I’m sexually interested in.
Her expression shifts—something vulnerable cracking through that steel mask she wears.
I take a step toward her. “Don’t say anything?”
She lifts her brows in query.
“Don’t break the magic…the moment.”
She swallows hard but gives me what I ask.
I reach for her. One hand to her waist. The other brushes the side of her jaw.
She doesn’t pull away.
"Been thinkin' about this for too long," I say, rough and needy. "Tell me if you want me to stop."
Her eyes are wide, and there’s excitement mixed in with a healthy dose of anxiety.
“I need your words,’ darlin’.”
“No, don’t stop,” she breathes.
I slide my mouth against hers.
The kiss is not careful or hesitant. It’s heat and breath.
She tastes like mint and defiance.
