Page 39 of Challenged By the Mountain Man

I drop the shirt on the floor beside the bed and immediately want to cover myself. Want to cross my arms over my chest and hide from his gaze. Because I'm not small. I'm not one of those delicate girls with a flat stomach and perky little breasts. I'm curvy. Soft. My stomach has a slight roll to it. My breasts are big enough that they've always made me self-conscious, heavy and full and definitely not the kind you see in magazines.

"Hannah," Griffin says, and there's something in his voice that makes me look at him instead of down at myself.

He's staring at me like I'm the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

"You're fucking gorgeous," he says, and he sounds almost angry about it.

"I'm—" I start to argue, to list all the reasons why I'm not, but he cuts me off.

"Gorgeous," he repeats firmly. "Every inch of you."

He reaches out and cups my breast, his palm rough and warm against my skin, and I suck in a breath. His thumb brushes over my nipple, and pleasure spikes through me so sharp I actually gasp.

"You like that?" he asks, doing it again.

"Yes," I breathe, because there's no point in lying when my body is already arching into his touch.

He leans in and kisses me again, his hand still on my breast, and this time there's no hesitation. No holding back. His tongue slides against mine, demanding and possessive, and I meet him with everything I have. My hands come up to his bare chest, fingers splaying across warm skin and hard muscle, feeling his heart pounding as hard as mine.

He breaks the kiss to trail his lips down my jaw, my neck, my collarbone. Lower. His mouth finds my other breast, and when his lips close around my nipple, I make a sound I've never made before—half moan, half whimper, completely beyond my control.

"Fuck," he mutters against my skin. "You sound so good."

He sucks gently, his tongue flicking over the sensitive peak, and my fingers dig into his shoulders. It feels incredible. Better than I imagined. Better than anything I've ever felt touching myself alone in the dark.

His hand slides down my stomach to the button of my jeans, and he pauses, lifting his head to look at me.

"Still okay?" he asks.

I nod, not trusting my voice.

"Words, Hannah. I need to hear you say it."

"Yes," I manage. "I'm okay. Keep going."

He pops the button and lowers the zipper slowly, his knuckles brushing against my lower stomach in a way that makes me shiver. Then he's peeling the wet denim down my hips, and I have to lift slightly to help him. The jeans hit the floor with a wet thud, leaving me in just my underwear.

Plain underwear that's probably the least sexy thing I own, but Griffin looks at me like I'm wearing something out of a lingerie catalog.

"These too?" he asks, fingers hooking into the waistband.

I hesitate. This is it. If I say yes, I'm going to be completely naked in front of a man for the first time. Completely exposed. Completely vulnerable.

But I trust him. I don't know why. I've known him less than forty-eight hours, but I do.

"Yes," I whisper.

He slides my underwear down and off, and then I'm bare before him. Completely, utterly naked. And he's still wearing his jeans, which suddenly seems incredibly unfair.

"You're overdressed," I point out, trying to keep my voice steady.

His mouth curves into something that's almost a smile. "You want to see it?"

Heat floods my face. "I—yes. If that's okay."

"Of course it's okay." He stands up, and I watch as he unbuttons his jeans and pushes them down along with his briefs.

And then he's naked too, and oh my God, his cock.