Page 9 of Her Mountain Man Outlaw
She’s not looking at me. I can’t blame her. She looks embarrassed, her cheeks reddening as she turns away from me.
“Sophia—”
“Goodnight, Maddox,” she says.
Before I can find the words to explain myself, she slips away down the corridor. I hear the creak of my bedroom door opening and closing. Then I stare blankly up at the ceiling, feeling like an asshole, and knowing for damn sure that I won’t get a wink of sleep tonight.
After hoursof tossing and turning, I finally give in. A pale gray light fills the room as I force myself off the couch and look outside. The snow is piled high. A few more inches and it will block the windows completely. It’s falling a little slower now, but there’s still no chance of Sophia getting out of here anytime soon. It should be bad news, but it sure as hell doesn’t feel like it.
I can’t stop thinking about that kiss. It was instinctive, spur of the moment, but I couldn’t help it. After fifteen years of living on Cherry Mountain, I’ve never had another person sleep under my roof. Now the most beautiful woman in the world is sleeping in my bed.
How was I meant to resist?
I shouldn’t want her. She’s half my age and sweet as cherry pie. Hell, I definitely shouldn’t have kissed her. But I can’t bring myself to regret it. Kissing Sophia felt so damn good. I can’t stop thinking about how her hot little tongue brushed mine, how shemade a soft moan in the back of her throat when I pulled her closer. She’ll be the fucking death of me, I swear.
I try to pull myself together, getting a fire started in the living room before heading to the bathroom for a cold shower. It doesn’t help. My veins are still simmering with desire as I pull on the clean outfit I set aside yesterday, buttoning up my flannel shirt. There’s no sound coming from my room, so I set about making breakfast, ready for when Sophia wakes up. I hear the creak of my door just as I start plating up the stacks of pancakes, drizzling them with syrup and chopped berries. I feel her eyes on me as she enters the kitchen, and the air seems to be sucked completely from the room.
“Good morning,” she says tentatively.
“Morning.”
The tension settles over us like a physical weight as I turn to face her. She’s still wearing my sweater like a dress, her hair slightly mussed from sleep. It’s hard to avoid looking at her mouth, remembering how fucking soft and sweet her lips were against mine. How damn intoxicating they felt.
“You hungry?” I ask, mostly just to fill the silence.
“Starving.” She spots the stack of pancakes. “Wow, that looks amazing.”
Her voice is artificially cheery, like she’s trying to be extra friendly after last night. Pretending like nothing happened.
“You won’t be able to leave for a while,” I tell her, gesturing toward the window as she follows me into the living room. “Snow’s piled up high.”
She peers outside, whistling. “Shoot.”
I set the pancakes on the table and we sit across from each other, eating in silence.
“These are really good,” she says.
“Glad you like them. Want anything to drink? Coffee? Orange juice?”
“Orange juice would be great.”
I go to the kitchen to fill up a glass, and she thanks me when I set it down in front of her. We continue our polite small talk. The pancakes. The weather. The possibility of digging her car out. Both of us carefully skirt around the only thing on our minds. And every time our eyes meet, there’s no hiding it. When she looks at me, it feels like electricity is sizzling across the room, traveling from her eyes into mine.
We keep up the pretense all through breakfast before we end up in the kitchen.
“You don’t need to help,” I tell Sophia as I wash her plate. “I got it.”
But she insists. I wash and she dries, the two of us standing side by side in my small kitchen, our sides brushing with every movement. It’s as much as I can take. I feel like I’m about to explode.
“So, we should probably talk about last night,” I say, trying to keep my voice measured.
I see Sophia’s cheeks pinken in my peripheral vision. “It’s okay. I get it was a mistake. We can just move on…”
“It wasn’t a mistake.” I give up on the dishes, dropping them in the sink and facing Sophia. “I should never have said that.”
She tosses the dish towel onto the counter and meets my gaze. “So, why did you pull away?” Her voice is quiet, like she’s nervous to hear the answer.
“Because I…” The words die in my throat, and I run a hand over my beard, frustrated as hell. Expressing myself has never been my strong suit. “Because I can’t…I shouldn’twantyou like that.”
