Page 28 of Broken on the Mountain
I bite into sugar and butter and cinnamon perfection, and make a sound that I'd been saving for last night.
"This is highly unusual for me to enjoy," I say around a mouthful of heaven. "Sunrise is supposed to be something you sleep through."
Chase settles beside me. "Well, sweetheart… here, we treasure each morning like we mean it."
The sky slowly shifts from navy to sherbet-pink, painting the waterfall in shades of gold and rose. The spray catches the light, turning to diamonds in the air, and I realize I'm watching magic happen in real time.
But I'm leaving in six hours.
I snuggle in closer to Chase.
Because this—the thermos coffee, the flannel warmth, his solid presence beside me—none of it fits in my Chicago life.
My penthouse doesn't have room for cinnamon rolls and sunrise hikes. My calendar doesn't allow for spontaneous morning adventures, or men who take the lead of my life and show me the wonders of their world.
I shove the ache down and choose now. Choose warmth. Choosethis.
Chase notices my barely-there shoe situation. One ballet flat is now held together by designer stitching, smeared with mud everywhere. He smiles and pulls a bandana from his pocket.
"MacGyver time."
"You're going to fix my shoe with a bandana?"
"I'm going toattemptto fix your shoe with a bandana."
He kneels in front of me, wrapping the fabric around the broken strap with the focused intensity of someone defusing a bomb. His fingers brush my ankle, and I bite back a shiver.
"There. That should hold until we get you proper boots."
"A true hero."
"Damn right."
I laugh into his shoulder, then we settle into quiet as the first hint of the sun crests the mountain, turning the waterfall spray to liquid gold.
We eat the cinnamon roll, drink all the coffee, then sit in companionable silence, watching the sun paint the world for a brand new day. Eventually, his warm arm wraps around me, pulling me closer, and I sink into him like I've been doing this forever.
Then I feel it.
Him.
Growing hard against my hip, a slow insistent pressure that makes my breath catch.
Houston, we have lift off! Finally!
"Chase—"
"Sorry. Can't help it. You're wearing my flannel and sitting on my lap watching the most beautiful sunrise. And I'm only human. And you're hot. So hot."
I laugh as I shift, deliberately pressing closer. "Don't apologize. I've been waiting for our littleagreementto rear it's head again."
His hand tightens on my waist as I shift in closer. The fabric of his pants twitches beneath his growing arousal. "Piper—"
"I need—" My voice comes out desperate, needy. "I need one more touch before I leave. Please."
The please breaks something in him, and all I can do is stare at him as he studies my desperation.
Then, he kisses me like he's memorizing my taste, one hand tangling in my hair while the other slides under my layers to find bare skin. I fumble with his jeans, fingers clumsy with want, needing him closer, needingmore.
