Page 27 of Craved By the Mountain Man

He shifts closer.

“Turn your hand.”

I do.

“Not your arm. Your hand.”

His fingers adjust mine.

Heat runs through my palm where he touches me.

“Find the thumb.”

“I know.”

“Then stop fighting everything else.”

I glare at him.

His eyes hold mine.

“Again.”

This time I get loose.

Barely.

Satisfaction sparks through me.

Gavin gives one short nod.

The approval feels embarrassingly good.

“Again.”

We keep going.

Different grips.

Different angles.

He makes me repeat each one until I stop thinking about the steps and simply move.

At some point, I forget that I am supposed to be embarrassed about standing in shorts in front of a shirtless Gavin Mercer.

Then he says, “Turn around.”

I remember immediately.

“What?”

“Someone grabs you from behind. What do you do?”

“Depends. Is he six-foot-four and terrifyingly bossy?”

“Yes.”

“That narrows it down.”