Page 52 of Craved By the Mountain Man

Gavin steps out of the sweats.

“You all right?”

“Yes.”

Far too quick.

His mouth curves.

“You sure?”

“I’m trying very hard to maintain some dignity.”

“You lost that on the island.”

I gasp. “You are horrible.”

“Still want me?”

The teasing disappears from his voice.

I look at him.

At the scars cutting across his body and the hard muscle beneath them. At the hunger in his eyes. At the man who remembered how I take my coffee after two years and just told me I belong to him before giving himself to me in the same breath.

“Yes.”

Something in his face shifts.

His hand catches the waistband of his briefs and pushes them down.

My breath catches.

Oh.

There are moments in life when language simply fails.

This is one of them.

Gavin steps free of the briefs and looks at me without an ounce of self-consciousness while my brain attempts to process exactly what I have agreed to.

He is big.

Because naturally the rest of him was not enough of a warning.

Then he comes down over me.

His mouth finds mine, and the nerves gathering in my stomach vanish beneath the heat of the kiss.

His body settles between my thighs, and this time there is nothing between us.

Every inch of him is hot against me.

My hands move over his shoulders while his mouth works against mine, and the hard length of him presses against my thigh.

Curiosity wins.

I reach between us.