Page 7 of Abandoned on His Mountain

Uh oh.

I swallow the lump in my throat. The beam from the flashlight shakes as my hand trembles. I can’t take my eyes away from him. His gaze is filled with danger. He looks more predatory and dangerous than any wolf couldeverbe.

He narrows his eyes at me then shoulders his rifle. Burly muscles tighten the plaid fabric around his biceps and stretch the white t-shirt underneath across his chest. With a few long strides, he’s right in front of my frozen body. Towering above me. Muscles and power and strength.

As big as the biggest grizzly bear ever recorded but with a much sexier scent.

“What the fuck are you doing up here?”

His voice is like thunder. Shaking me to my core.

“I…” I stammer. It’s not just that the situation is hard to explain. It’s that looking up at him, I’d have trouble explaininganything.He’d have to duck to fit through any doorway with shoulders so wide, they could carry a felled oak. His dark hair is unkempt, falling over his forehead with late night mist glistening in the strands like tiny diamonds. His eyes are the wildest hazel I’ve ever seen, reminding me of this forest and the moon. He’s maybe mid-twenties, but the hardness in his eyes makes him look much older.

“You gonna answer me?”

I swallow hard. “I’m…”

I’ve lost my chance to explain—his eyes say so. “Nah, fuck that. I’ve got a better question,” he continues.

His chest presses against me. His hips. His…

Dang,thatthing is huge… Bigger than the one hairy-chested Buck Wild was sporting in that Penthouse spread.

He pulls me closer. No space between us. No distance. He yanks my jacket off my shoulder as I let out a little yelp. Underneath, I’m still wearing the skimpy little dress from yesterday.

I now regret the decision to not change my clothes. I guess, Mountain Marin likes tackling the rugged outdoors in a red satin slip dress and six-inch heels.

His rough fingers slide down over my bare arm, my back, under my breasts. Like he’s searching me as though anything I have could be a danger to a man like him.

The air between us buzzes and zaps. Pulsing with energy, with wanting. As he touches me, everything in my body sayspleasewhile my brain saysrun.

“The better question, little girl in red, is are you here alone?” His hazel eyes dart toward the cabin, then back to me, cocking his head to the side while I stand mute. He raises a brow on a sniff, biting into his bottom lip. “You have a speech impediment?”

I shake my head, mouth falling open as the words bank in my throat. His face is as rugged as the mountain itself with a dark short beard covering the square angles of his jaw and cheeks. His harsh jutting forehead makes him look like he’s from another time, lost here in the mountains like me.

“No, you don’t have a speech problem, or no, no one is here with you?”

I shake my head again, unable to form words because all my tongue wants to do is lick down the valleys of his chest and around those indents of his abs. I stutter something unintelligible but the growl that follows my stammering does nothing to help.

“No boyfriend? Father…Husband?” He chokes on that last word like he’s just swallowed something vile.

“N-n-no.” I manage. His body heat and manly scent are making my head spin. The mist has stopped but a frozen gust of wind tangles in my hair and blows up the slit of my dress. “Who are you?” I whisper, steam from my breath kissing the frosty air between us.

“Never you fuckin’ mind, little girl.” He growls. “What the fuck are you doing up here, onmymountain? Alone? Dressed likethis? You got a date with a bear?”

The steam rises on each of his exhalations. And mine too. And our breath mingles between us for one second, two. Heat and want. I lean into him, inhaling his scent again, needing more. It’s fresh pine and sweat and a hint of coffee on his breath. It’s a concoction that shouldn’t work but on him?

I’m swimming in all the wrongness of what’s happening down low in the heavenly haven between my legs but I’m powerless to stop it.

As dizziness wobbles my knees, I dig my fingers into the fabric covering the back of his arms and as I do, something changes.

His hand stalls on my waist. His rough fingers start a fire that burns me from the inside out. The look in his eyes changes from angry to…hungry?

The man from the magazine had that same look. Like he’s coming off a seven-day purity fast and I’m the closest fast-food drive through.

The way his body stiffens makes me shudder. The way his pupils dilate and a growl tumbles from his chest is terrifying.

But, it’s the way he tugs me closer and I feel somethingdangerouspressing into my hip that makes me wonder if the wolves and the bears are really the worst this wild mountain can muster.

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