Page 26 of Mountain Man's Longing
She arches her brow but sits back as the wheel continues to spin. The corner of her lip curls up ever so slightly, making her look so damn gorgeous. The minx knows she’s got me wrapped around her little finger, and she loves it. I do, too.
“I’m not the one with the laundry list of reasons we can’t be together,” she says, pointing out the fact that remains. “Not the one who pretended we were strangers.”
My head drops. “I know. And I’m sorry. So sorry for pushing you away, for pretending you were a stranger when you already meant the world to me. I was an asshole and deserved your anger. Still do.”
She reaches over and tips up my chin with a single finger. “Did you mean what you said to Eric?” she asks quietly. “About making me yours?”
I reach into my pocket, pulling out the small maple box. Her eyes widen as I hold it in my palm between us. Her breathing changes, becoming shallow.
“I don’t just want you,” I say, my voice gruff with emotion. “I want to build a life with you.”
She stares at the box then looks back at me. “Graham…”
“It’s empty now, but maybe…someday—”
“You made this for me?”
“Yesterday, although I finished it this morning when I was going out of my mind, waiting for you to come home.”
“Home,” she repeats softly, as if she’s testing the word.
I set the jewelry box on the low table at her side and flip the switch to turn the wheel off. My hands hover over hers, and I can feel her pulse racing where my fingers brush her wrists, but there are still some things that need to be said.
“You’re so young, Brenna,” I say, swallowing hard. “And I’m old enough to be your father. What happens when you realize what you’re giving up? What happens when—”
“Stop.” She shakes her head, as if she’s a little girl who doesn’t want to listen. “I may be young, but I know what I want. And what I don’t.” Her voice grows stronger, more certain. “Between my stepfather and the boys my age, I’m sick of being treated like a trophy or an acquisition. You see me. You see all of me.”
“Twenty years is a lifetime of difference—”
“Is it?” she challenges, her green eyes fierce. She reaches for me but stops short, lifting her chin. “I may be young, but I grew up in the city. Hell, I drove across state lines to find my father and ended up finding myself. And you.”
Her words stop me cold, especially the conviction in her voice.
“Your age doesn’t scare me,” she continues, her voice dropping to a whisper. “What scares me is the thought of going back to that life where I’m settling for fake instead of real.” She scoffs, showing her exasperation with me. “You think I’m too young? I think you need me as much as I need you. We can make our own way. Learn what love looks like, what it can be. Together.”
Christ. This woman. Wise beyond her years. She’ll be the death of me, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.
“You’re sure?” I ask, searching her face for any hint of doubt.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
I lean forward, pressing a tender kiss to her soft lips. She leans in for more.
“Let me clean you up,” I murmur against her lips.
She nods, and I guide her hands to the basin of cool, fresh water beside the wheel. The clay dissolves under my touch as I work it from between her fingers. Rinsing her impossibly smooth skin, the gray streaks disappearing to reveal creamy perfection, makes my jaw clench.
Her breathing becomes unsteady while I clean each finger, my calloused palms sliding over her delicate hands. When I reach the clay smudged on her forearms, working my way up her bare forearms toward her elbows, she shivers despite the warmth of the afternoon.
“I couldn’t touch you last night,” I whisper, my mouth close to her ear, my voice barely controlled. “It was torture. Knowing you were right there, in my bed, in my flannel, and having to keep my hands to myself. But I swore I wasn’t going to touch you again until things were settled between us.”
She spins on the small stool to face me, her knees brushing my thighs. The touch sends fire racing through my veins, and my gaze drops to the generous swell of her breasts before I force my eyes back to her face. Her clean hands come up to frame my face, water dripping on my lap, but my entire focus is on the need burning bright in her green eyes.
“They’re settled now.” Her tongue swipes across her bottom lip.
“They are.”
And with that, I kiss her, claiming her mouth with all the hunger I’ve held back. She responds immediately, her lipsparting under mine, soft and eager. When we break apart, I rest my forehead against hers, fighting to maintain control when all I want is to bury myself in her and show her exactly how much I’ve missed her.
