Page 11 of Burning for the Mountain Man
“Come on,” he said, his voice rough and wrecked with spent passion. He pressed a soft, lingering kiss to my temple. “Let’s go to bed. Let me hold you while you fall asleep.”
I expected to see a flicker of panic in his eyes, a hesitation at the sheer intimacy of the suggestion. But there was none. His gaze was steady, sure, his touch possessive even now. He was the one leading me to the loft, the one pulling back the covers and drawing me into the solid, welcoming warmth of his body. The one who tucked my head under his chin and held me as if he never intended to let go.
I drifted into the most contented sleep of my life, lulled by the steady, strong beat of his heart. As sleep claimed me, I realized the man I thought was so afraid of connection had just claimed a piece of my soul as his own.
6
WILDER
Something was different this morning.
I shifted, stretching my left leg, and that was when I realized exactly what it was. I wasn't alone in bed.
Shifting my head to the left, I opened my eyes. Just inches from my face lay the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. She was somehow even more beautiful than she'd been the night before.
My goose was cooked.
I'd spent the last five years of my life avoiding getting too close to anyone. Nobody deserved to be dragged into my world—a world of moody days and sleepless nights. Plus, the night terrors. Every single night, I'd wake up in a dead panic, my body soaked in sweat.
Sage stirred, her eyes slowly drifting open. When they landed on me, her mouth spread into a smile.
Oh, yeah, definitely cooked. Charred. There was no turning back now.
"Morning," she said.
"Morning."
My voice sounded raspy next to her sweet, lilting tone. The perfect contrast, just as our bodies contrasted. Last night, after we'd made love in front of the window and in the bed, she'd run her fingers over my skin, asking about each of my scars. I'd explained them to her, one by one.
She didn't judge. Didn't feel sorry for me. Instead, she just listened with nothing but love in her eyes.
Love. That was a word I'd never expected to think about again. I'd planned to live up here alone, where nobody could ridicule me or judge me. Where nobody could hurt me.
But as the morning light filtered through those massive windows, reality crashed over me like a cold wave. What the hell had I done?
She stretched beside me, the sheet slipping down to reveal smooth, unmarred skin. Perfect. Young. Whole. Everything I wasn't.
My chest tightened. Last night, in the heat of passion and moonlight, I'd let myself believe this could work. But now, seeing her clearly in the harsh light of day, I couldn't ignore the truth.
She deserved better than a broken-down former soldier who lived alone on a mountain.
"What's wrong?" she asked, her smile fading as she read my expression.
"Nothing." I sat up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. I kept my back to her. Safer that way. "I should get you back to the inn."
Silence. Then the rustle of sheets as she sat up behind me.
"Wilder, look at me."
I didn't want to. Looking at her would make this harder. But when her hand touched my scarred shoulder, I couldn't help but turn.
Her eyes were fierce, not hurt. Angry, not sad.
"Don't you dare," she said.
"Don't I dare what?"
"Push me away because you've decided I'm going to regret last night." She moved around to face me, completely naked and completely unashamed. "That's what you're doing, isn't it? You woke up, looked at me, and convinced yourself I deserve someone better."
