Page 16 of Craving the Mountain Man
"This isn't smart."
"Nope." I let my legs fall open a little wider, and his eyes darken further.
"You leave soon."
"Three days, actually." The reminder should sting, but right now all I can think about is the heat of his hands on my skin, the way he's looking at me like he wants to devour me whole.
"Your brother's coming tomorrow."
"Plenty of time between now and then."
He huffs a quiet curse and starts to pull back, but I hook a finger in the waistband of his jeans, stopping him cold.
"Evan," I whisper, my voice loaded with everything I'm feeling, everything I want, "are you really going to walk away? From me? From what is happening here?"
His hands fist at his sides, and I can see the exact moment his control starts to crumble.
I drop my voice another octave, lean forward just enough that my breath ghosts across his skin. "Because I want you. Again. Now. Against this counter. No teasing. No games."
I reach down, brushing my fingers along his zipper, feeling the hard length of him straining against the denim, and he jerks in response.
I lean in, brushing my lips against his jaw, “please?”
His mouth crashes into mine, and his hands are everywhere at once. It was fast and furious and exactly what we both needed. He took what he wanted and what I freely gave.
I lean into his chest after, still catching my breath. “If that was jealous sex, I fully support more of it.”
He chuckles softly, pressing a kiss to my temple. “No more games, Cass. I’m too old for that rubbish.”
I smile against his skin. “It was worth it.”
Chapter Eight: Evan
The knock comes just after ten.
I freeze halfway through my coffee, the ceramic mug suspended between the table and my lips. Cassidy is still upstairs in my bed, and my cock twitches at the thought, like it doesn't understand we're officially in danger zone now.
Because Dylan Monroe is standing on my porch. And I've been balls-deep in his little sister for days.
The irony isn't lost on me. Five days ago, I was a man in control of his life, his desires and his carefully constructed boundaries. Now I'm standing here with the taste of her still on my tongue, her scent still clinging to my skin, and her brother is about to walk into the middle of it all.
I set the mug down with hands that aren't quite steady and walk to the door. Through the frosted glass, I can see his familiar silhouette. Tall, broad-shouldered, the same build that runs in their family. The same confident stance that Cassidy inherited, though she wears it differently.
I open the door, and there he is, grinning that easy Monroe smile, duffel bag slung over his shoulder, and sunglasses pushed up into his messy brown hair. He looks exactly the same as he did six months ago, when he left for his consulting job in the city. Same easy confidence and same way of taking up space like he belongs wherever he is.
"Surprise," he says, stepping forward like he's going to embrace me.
I grunt and step back. "You said the afternoon."
"Yeah, and I also said I wanted a head start." He shoulders past me into the cabin, immediately making himself at home. It's what Dylan does. Claims space, makes friends, brings light into dark corners. "Where's the coffee?"
I gesture toward the kitchen, trying to keep my voice level. "Go ahead. I'll check to see if Cass is awake."
He heads inside, already talking about his drive, about the weather, about the job we're supposed to start this week. Normal things. Brother things. Best friend things.
I sprint up the stairs two at a time.
Cassidy's just stepping out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around her body. Her skin is flushed pink from the hot water.
