Page 11 of Inked By the Mountain Man

"Doesn't matter."

"You're twice my size."

"Still dangerous."

I slide off the barrel and step next to him. "Keanu."

His gaze drops to my mouth and my heart pounds. "Tell me to stop." He looks at me.

"I should."

"But?" He reaches up. His thumb brushes my cheek.

"But I don't want you to." I lean up and place my lips against his.

For half a second, terror flashes through me. What if I've read everything wrong? What if he's only been kind? Then his hand tightens at my waist, and all that fear melts into a rush of relief so sharp it almost makes me laugh into his mouth. He wants me too. Maybe not sensibly. Maybe not conveniently. But he does. Or he kisses me. I'm not entirely sure.

All I know is one second there's space between us and the next there isn't. His hand settles carefully at my waist, away from the healing tattoo. The kiss starts tentative. Almost sweet. Then I curl my fingers into his shirt. Keanu makes a rough sound. And the kiss deepens. Heat sweeps through me. My entire body feels awake. When we finally separate, we're both breathing hard.

His forehead rests against mine. “Come home with me, Liv.”

seven

Keanu

The drive up is silent, but it's not empty. Liv sits beside me in the truck cab, her hand resting on the seat between us. Every few minutes, her pinky brushes mine. Each touch is lightning.

My cabin is warm from the stove I lit before leaving. I built this place myself, every beam and board, and I've never been self-conscious about it until now. It's sparse. A bed in the loft, a kitchenette, and the studio space. Books stacked on every surface. No TV. No clutter. Just wood and stone and the mountain outside.

"It's beautiful," Liv says, and I can't tell if she's being kind.

"It's isolated."

"I know." She turns to me, her eyes dark in the lamplight. "I like isolated."

I should offer her tea. I should make conversation. I should do any of the things people do when they're nervous. Instead, I cross the space between us and kiss her again.

This time, there's no hesitation. She meets me with equal hunger, her hands sliding up my chest, fingers curling into my shirt. I walk her backward until her spine meets the wall, and I brace my hands on either side of her head, caging her in a sanctuary.

"Tell me to stop," I breathe against her mouth. "Tell me anytime."

"Don't stop."

I kiss her throat, her collarbone, the slope of her shoulder. Her dress has thin straps, and I slide one down, exposing her breast. She's not wearing a bra. The air hits her nipple, making it tighten, and I groan, lowering my mouth to taste her.

"Keanu." She arches into me, her hands in my hair, holding me there. I suck, lick, and tease with my teeth until she's whimpering, rocking her hips against mine.

I lift her. She wraps her legs around my waist, and I carry her to the loft bed, laying her down among the quilts. Moonlight through the skylight paints her skin silver and shadow. I kneel over her, drinking her in.

"You're shaking," she whispers.

"So are you."

"I'm scared. Not of you." She swallows. "I've never. With anyone."

"I know. Me neither."

Her eyes widen. "Never?"