Page 16 of Christmas With the Navy SEAL Mountain Man
"But?" I prompt, sensing there's more he wants to say.
"No but." He shakes his head, his hands tightening slightly on my waist. "Just... I don't do this. Haven't. Not since before Afghanistan."
The admission costs him something; I can see it in the tightening around his eyes. Two years of isolation, of keeping people at arm's length. Two years without touch, without connection.
"Thank you," I say softly, setting my own mug down to place both hands on his chest, feeling his heart beat strong beneath my palm. "For last night. For trusting me with that."
His eyes darken, and he lowers his head to capture my mouth in a kiss that starts gentle but quickly ignites into something hungry and demanding. My body responds immediately, pressing closer, my hands sliding up to tangle in his hair.
When he lifts me onto the counter in one fluid motion, settling between my thighs, I wrap my legs around his waist without hesitation.
"Again?" I breathe against his lips, feeling his arousal pressing insistently against me.
"Again," he confirms, his voice a low growl that sends shivers down my spine. "Is that okay?"
In answer, I pull him back to me, losing myself in the heat of his mouth, the strength of his hands as they push my sweater up my thighs. Last night had been intense and passionate; this morning feels urgent, almost desperate, as if he's trying to consume me before reality intrudes.
The kitchen counter is hard beneath me, but I don't care, not with Aaron's hands and mouth making me forget everything but the pleasure building inside me. My sweater ends up on the floor, his jeans quickly following, and then he's pushing into me, filling me completely as I cry out his name.
"Mine," he growls against my neck, the same possessive claim from last night sending thrills through my body. "Say it again, Leah."
"Yours," I gasp as he sets a relentless pace, my nails digging into his shoulders. "God, Aaron, I'm yours."
We come together this time, his face buried in my neck, my head thrown back in ecstasy. For long moments afterward, we remain locked together, his arms supporting my boneless weight, my heart thundering against his.
"Well," I finally manage when I catch my breath, "good morning to you too."
His quiet laugh vibrates against my skin. "Sorry about the counter. Not the most comfortable."
"Trust me, I'm not complaining." I press a kiss to his shoulder. "Though my neighbors might if we make this a regular thing."
There it is again—the implication of future, of continuity. This time, though, Aaron doesn't tense or pull away. Instead, he lifts his head to look at me, his expression serious but open.
"I'd like that," he says quietly. "Making this a regular thing."
Joy bubbles up inside me, but I try to keep my expression calm. "Yeah?"
He nods, his hands gentle as he helps me down from the counter. "Yeah. If that's what you want too."
"I do." I retrieve my sweater from the floor, suddenly shy despite the intimacy we've just shared. "Though I should warn you, I come with complications."
"Such as?" He pulls on his jeans, his movements casual but his eyes intent on my face.
"I'm not just visiting Grizzly Ridge. I moved here permanently last year." I busy myself with pouring fresh coffee to avoid his gaze. "I'm on the town council now. I organize community events. I'm involved in everything you seem to hate about small town life."
"I don't hate it," he says after a moment. "I just... needed space. After what happened with my team, I couldn't handle people. Questions. Sympathy."
I turn to face him, offering his refilled mug. "And now?"
He takes the coffee, his fingers brushing mine. "Now I'm standing in your kitchen naked. So I'd say something's changed."
The simple honesty of his answer makes me laugh. "Fair point."
"What about you?" he asks. "What are your complications?"
I lean against the counter, considering how much to share. "Besides being the town busybody who organizes events you'll probably hate? Not much. My parents live in Seattle. I work remotely as a graphic designer. I volunteer too much. And I talk a lot when I'm nervous."
"I've noticed." His lips twitch, almost a smile. "The talking part."
