Page 8 of Burning for the Mountain Man
Sage walked straight to the windows, stopping just in front of the glass. "You can see the whole valley from here."
"That's why I built it this way." I stayed near the door, keeping distance between us. "On clear days, you can see for fifty miles."
She turned to face me, and my chest tightened. "Thank you for bringing me here. I know this is…private for you."
"You talked me into it."
"Did I?" A small smile played at her lips. "Or did you want to bring me here?"
I couldn't answer that. Couldn't admit that yes, some part of me had wanted to show her this place, wanted to see her reaction, wanted to share this piece of myself even though I knew better.
She crossed the room slowly, her eyes never leaving mine. "Wilder, why do you keep pulling away from me?"
"I'm not?—"
"You are." She stopped just in front of me. "Every time we get close, you retreat. Why?"
Because you deserve better. Because I'm broken. Because letting you in means risking everything I've built to protect myself.
"Sage," I said roughly. "You should go back to the inn."
"What if I don't want to?"
"You don't know what you're asking."
"Then tell me." She reached up, her fingers barely brushing the scarred skin visible at my collar. I flinched, but she didn't pull away. "Tell me why you're so determined to be alone."
The air crackled between us, thick with everything I refused to say. Her question hung there, a challenge and a plea all at once. Her fingers, still resting against the rough skin of my neck, were a brand of pure, unflinching acceptance.
I could lie. I could give her a half-truth about being set in my ways, about preferring solitude. But the words died in my throat, suffocated by the raw honesty in her gaze.
“Because,” I ground out, the word torn from a place deep inside I’d sealed shut years ago. “Look at me, Sage. Really look. I’m not some romantic hero from one of your books. I’m a collection of broken parts and bad memories. I have hearing loss and physical scars, but the inside is worse. You deserve…you deserve sunlight and easy laughter. Not this. Not me.”
I braced for her to recoil, to finally see the monster I knew I was.
Instead, she stepped closer. Her voice was a whisper, but it hit me with the force of a gale.
“What if I want you? All of you. The scars and the silence and everything in between.”
My control, a brittle, fragile thing, splintered. “Sage…”
“I’ve never done this before,” she breathed, her confession a sacred thing in the quiet of the cabin. “Any of it. I’ve never…wanted to. Not until you. I want you to be my first.”
The world tilted on its axis. Never? The idea of this vibrant, beautiful woman never knowing pleasure, never feeling the heat of another’s skin against her own…it was a crime. A profound injustice.
And the fact that she was offering that gift to me shattered the last of my resolve. A possessive, primal need surged throughme, burning away the doubt. I would be the one to show her. I would be the one to make her feel alive.
“I don’t have any protection,” I said, the words a final, feeble attempt at reason.
A faint, brave smile touched her lips. “I’m on birth control.”
That was it. The last barrier fell.
She never broke eye contact as she slowly, deliberately, shrugged off her jacket. Then she grabbed the hem of her sweatshirt and pulled it over her head. My breath caught. Her breasts, full and perfect, were practically spilling out of a plain, white cotton bra. It was the most erotic thing I’d ever seen. My erection pressed painfully against the denim of my jeans, a throbbing, insistent ache.
Her eyes stayed locked on mine as her fingers went to the fastening of her jeans. The button popped. The zipper hissed down. She pushed them down her legs, kicking them aside until she stood before me in only her simple white bra and briefs, bathed in the moonlight and the distant glow of the valley.
She turned to face the window, her profile serene. “Do you think anyone can see us?”
