Page 12 of Snowed-in With The Mountain Man
Time. The one thing we never had before. Eight years ago, I left before we could explore what might have been growing between us. Now we're trapped together by forces beyond our control, nowhere to run, nowhere to hide from what's building between us.
As if to punctuate this thought, the lights flicker one final time and go out completely, plunging the cabin into darkness except for the fire's glow. Seconds later, the hum of the generator starts up, but only the essential circuits power back on—refrigerator, minimal lighting, heat.
"Perfect timing," Ridge says with a wry smile. "Guess we'll be spending a lot of time by the fire."
I lean against him, allowing myself to fully feel the solid warmth of him beside me. "I can think of worse ways to weather a storm."
His arm slides around my waist, holding me close as we watch the snow transform the world outside into a blank white canvas. Inside, the fire crackles, shadows dance across the walls, and the tension between us builds like the storm itself—wild, inevitable, and impossible to resist.
CHAPTER FIVE
RIDGE
The generator rumbles to life for the third time since midnight, its mechanical drone dragging me from fitful sleep. Outside my window, dawn brings no real light, just a shift from pitch black to bruised purple as the blizzard continues its assault.
I roll from bed, muscles stiff from chopping extra wood yesterday. The digital thermometer reads sixty degrees, ten degrees cooler than normal. The generator's working, but it can't keep up with the brutal cold pressing against every window and door.
More firewood. That's the first priority.
In the kitchen, I'm surprised to find Stella already awake, wrapped in a thick sweater, hands cupped around a steaming mug. Her hair falls in loose waves around her shoulders, and even in the dim emergency lighting, I can see the shadows beneath her eyes.
"You didn't sleep," I observe, reaching for the coffee pot.
"Neither did you." Her eyes meet mine, something electric passing between us. "I heard the generator cycle on and off."
"Sorry about that." I pour coffee, hyperaware of her watching me. "It's loud."
"It wasn't just the generator." Her voice drops lower. "I kept thinking about last night. Before Chellie interrupted."
The almost kiss.The moment we nearly crossed a line we couldn't uncross. My body responds instantly to the memory, to the heat in her eyes as she'd leaned toward me.
"Stella." Her name emerges as a warning. A plea. I'm not sure which.
She sets her mug down, moving closer until she's standing directly before me. "We're snowed in, Ridge. Completely cut off from the world." Her hand comes to rest on my chest, directly over my hammering heart. "No more interruptions. No more excuses."
"You came here for safety," I remind her, fighting to keep my hands at my sides. "Not for this."
"I came here because you're the only person I trust completely." Her fingers curl into the fabric of my shirt. "The only person who's never let me down. The only man I've ever felt truly safe with."
Safe. The word lodges in my throat. Is that all I am to her? A port in a storm?
She must see the doubt in my eyes because she rises on her toes, bringing her face closer to mine. "And the only man I've thought about every day for eight years, even when I was trying not to."
The confession breaks something loose inside me. My hands find her waist, pulling her flush against me as our mouths finally meet. The kiss is tentative for only a heartbeat before igniting into something hungry and desperate. Eight years of waiting, of wanting, poured into a single connection.
She tastes like coffee and spice. Her arms wind around my neck, body pressing closer as if trying to eliminate any spacebetween us. I lift her easily, setting her on the counter, stepping between her thighs as the kiss deepens. Her fingers tangle in my hair, pulling slightly in a way that sends sparks down my spine.
"Been wanting this," I murmur against her mouth. "For so long, Stella."
"Me too." She tugs my bottom lip between her teeth. "Every night since I got here. Every morning. I can't stop thinking about you."
The confession makes my blood run hotter. I trail kisses down her neck, finding the sensitive spot below her ear that makes her gasp. Her legs wrap around my waist, drawing me closer, the heat of her core pressing against me through too many layers of clothing.
"Ridge," she whispers, voice breathy with need. "Touch me. Please."
My hand slides beneath her sweater, finding warm skin, tracing up her ribcage to cup her breast. When my thumb brushes over her nipple, she arches into my touch, a soft moan escaping her.
The sound of tiny footsteps down the hallway breaks us apart once more. I step back just as Chellie appears, Mr. Bunny clutched in one hand, eyes still heavy with sleep.
