Page 8 of Burning for the Mountain Man

"Wasn't planning on it."

The shirt comes off. Cool mountain air hits my chest, then her hands, warm and calloused, sliding up my stomach to my pectorals. Her palms flatten over my heartbeat. Amber eyes on mine in the firelight, and whatever she sees makes her pull her own tank top over her head.

Sports bra. Black. Functional. The hottest thing I've ever seen because her breasts are full against the fabric, her stomach is taut with muscle, and freckles scatter across her collarbones down to the swell of her cleavage.

The bra comes off next. She reaches behind her back, unclips it, lets it drop. Her nipples tighten in the cold air, dark pink against her sun-kissed skin.

My mouth goes to her throat. Down to her collarbone. I trace the freckles with my tongue while her fingers grip the back of my head. When I reach her breast, I close my lips around her nipple and suck, tonguing the peak until she gasps.

"Tent," she breathes.

We barely make it. She's on my sleeping bag, jeans off, and I'm pulling her hiking pants down her legs while she kicks her boots free. Cotton underwear, dark blue. Soaked through. My thumb presses against the wet fabric over her clit, and her hips jerk up.

"Off." She lifts her hips. The underwear goes.

She's gorgeous. Long legs, full hips, a trail of freckles I want to map with my mouth. Her pussy is wet, flushed, and when I spread her thighs and drop my head between them, the sound she makes echoes off the granite ridge outside.

My tongue slides flat through her folds. Bottom to top, slow. Her thighs clamp against my ears. Circling her clit with the tip, I slide two fingers inside her, curling up toward the front wall. She's tight, hot, her hips already rocking against my hand.

"Fuck, Nash." Her fingers grip my hair. "Right there. Don't stop."

Sealing my mouth over her clit, I suck while my fingers work a steady rhythm, dragging against that spot until her back arches off the sleeping bag. She comes hard, thighs shaking, one hand over her mouth to muffle the sound that still carries across the empty ridge.

Before the aftershocks fade, I'm rolling on a condom from my wallet. She watches, chest heaving, hair spread across the sleeping bag.

One long thrust. Deep. Her back arches again, her nails digging into my shoulders. She's still pulsing around me from the first orgasm, every squeeze making my vision tunnel.

"Jesus." My forehead drops to hers. "You feel incredible."

Her legs wrap around my waist. I pull back, thrust deep again. Long strokes, slow at first, building. One hand braced beside her head, the other sliding down between us. My thumb finds her clit, already swollen, and circles in time with each thrust.

"Harder." She pulls me closer with her heels on my lower back.

Picking up the pace, I angle my hips to drag against her front wall with every stroke. Her nails rake down my back, over the burn scar on my shoulder, and she doesn't flinch. Doesn't hesitate. Touches the raised tissue the same way she touches the rest of me.

Something cracks open in my chest.

"Come for me, Autumn." Thumb pressing harder on her clit, I drive deep. "Let me feel it."

She breaks. Clenching around my cock, crying my name into the thin mountain air while her whole body arches against mine. Two more thrusts and I'm gone, buried deep, face in her neck, her pulse hammering against my lips.

We lie there. Breathing. Her fingers trace lazy circles on my chest while the campfire outside burns down to embers.

"I'm in trouble," she whispers.

Pulling her against my side, I press my mouth to the top of her head. Her hair smells like campfire. Her body fits against mine like she was built for this exact sleeping bag on this exact ridge.

"Yeah." My arm tightens around her. "Me too."

Outside, the wind shifts. An owl calls from the drainage below. The fire pops once, sending sparks up toward the stars.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, a voice that sounds like my father's asks whether I'm giving this woman a reason to stay or a reason to go.

For the first time in five years, the answer scares me.

CHAPTER FOUR

AUTUMN