Page 8 of Snowed-in With The Mountain Man
Her eyes meet mine, something unreadable in their depths. "Not worried. Just... aware."
The word choice sends heat coursing through me. Aware. Yes, I'm increasingly, painfully aware of her too. Of the curve of her neck when she bends to help Chellie. Of her fingers wrapped around a coffee mug in the morning. Of the sound of her shower running each night, water sluicing over skin I've only imagined.
"We should get some sleep," she says, breaking the charged silence. "If we're heading to town tomorrow, it'll be a busy day."
I nod, not trusting my voice. She rises gracefully, pausing at the hallway entrance.
"Ridge? Thank you for today. For making her first snow so special."
"Anytime," I manage, watching her disappear down the hall.
Sleep proves impossible. I lie awake, staring at the ceiling, hyperaware of Stella down the hall. Is she asleep? Or is she lying awake too, thinking about tomorrow's storm? About being trapped here with me for days?
The thought of being truly snowed in with her makes my body respond immediately, blood rushing south as unbidden images flood my mind. Stella in the firelight. Stella with snowflakes melting in her hair. Stella in my bed, her body beneath mine.
I groan, throwing back the covers. This isn't helping.
My hand slides beneath the waistband of my boxers almost of its own accord. I'm already rock hard, aching with need. For three days I've been in a constant state of low-level arousal, trying to hide it, trying to be the gentleman she deserves.
I wrap my fingers around myself, hissing at the contact. I should stop. Should take a cold shower instead. But the image of Stella won't leave my mind.
In my fantasy, she can't sleep either. She slips from the guest room, padding silently down the hall to my door. She doesn't knock, just enters, moonlight silvering her skin as she approaches my bed.
"Ridge," she whispers in my imagination as my hand begins to move, "I can't stop thinking about you."
I stroke faster, picturing her climbing into my bed, her body warm and soft against mine. In my mind, she kisses me deeply as her hand replaces mine, her touch confident and sure.
The fantasy is so vivid I can almost feel her weight on the mattress, almost smell her vanilla scent. I imagine her straddling me, taking me inside her, her head thrown back in pleasure as she moves.
"Stella," I groan aloud, too far gone to care if the sound carries. My release crashes over me with surprising intensity, leaving me breathless and trembling.
Reality returns slowly. My room, empty except for me. Stella still down the hall in the guest room, unaware of my shameful fantasy.
I clean up, disgusted with myself. She came here for safety, for shelter. Not to be the object of my desperate fantasies.
But as I settle back into bed, the knowledge of tomorrow's storm makes my pulse quicken again. Days snowed in together. No escape. Nowhere to hide from this growing attraction.
I finally drift into restless sleep, dreaming of Stella coming to my door, of snow piling higher outside, trapping us together in this cabin until spring.
CHAPTER FOUR
STELLA
Hot water cascades down my back as I close my eyes, trying to focus on the simple pleasure of a morning shower rather than the man just down the hall. But Ridge's presence is impossible to ignore, has been since the moment we arrived.
I slide my hand down my stomach, giving in to the fantasy that's been building for days. In my mind, it's Ridge's calloused fingers touching me, Ridge's strong hands cupping my breasts, Ridge's mouth trailing down my neck.
"God," I whisper, leaning against the cool tile as my fingers find the slick heat between my thighs.
Three days in his cabin and I'm coming undone. My body responds instantly to the image of him in my mind—those green eyes darkening with desire, those strong arms lifting me against him. I imagine how his beard would feel against my inner thighs, how his mouth would taste, how he would fill me completely.
My movements quicken, pleasure building as I picture him here with me, water sluicing over both our bodies as he presses me against the wall. In my fantasy, he whispers my name likea prayer, tells me he's wanted this for years, that he's never stopped wanting me.
The orgasm catches me by surprise, intense and sudden. I bite my lip to keep from crying out, body pulsing around my fingers as I ride out the waves of pleasure.
Reality crashes back as the water turns lukewarm. I shut it off, shame and need battling for dominance. What am I doing? I came here for safety, for shelter for my daughter. Not to indulge in fantasies about my childhood best friend.
But as I dress, I can't shake the lingering arousal, the sense that something inevitable is building between us. Like a storm front approaching the mountain.
