Page 22 of Mountain Void

The answer took a long instant to come.

“I want to remember,” she said quietly. “I want to remember what it feels like when we’re not careful.”

Lorenz’s pulse beat erratically against his chest. He wanted to reach over the table and grasp her hands—feel the beat on the inside of her wrist. But he didn’t know if he’d be able to release her, once he touched her. More than anything, he wanted to erase the pain in her voice.

“You’re going to have to be a lot more direct, Charlie.” He had to know he wasn’t misinterpreting her meaning. If this was a mistake, it had to be one they fell into together.

Her napkin hit the table with surprising force. “Come home with me tonight, Lorenz.”

The way his cock tightened against the front of his jeans at her words didn’t surprise Lorenz. What surprised him was the way his entire body—his mind, his very soul—responded to her words.

9

Charlie

What are you doing?

Six years working to get over him, and she was throwing it all away for … for one night. For the chance to touch him one more time.

But damn it if she could help herself.

From the moment they’d sat across from each other at dinner—a seafood place, her favorite—her body had started singing. A low, treacherous hum she hadn’t felt in years.

Not with anyone else.

Not even close.

Dating after Lorenz had been an uphill battle. Like an imprinted duckling who’d lost sight of the first moving thing she’d ever followed, Charlie had found it hard to relate to any man.

Six years should have been enough to rewire something so basic, but her body had never quite caught up.

And she’d tried. First with a fellow teacher, then with an insurance salesman and, most recently, with a ski instructor.

She didn’t consider herself a particularly beautiful woman, but French men loved American women—even more so when they spoke a bit of French. The three men she’d dated had been kind, attentive, safe choices. Men who didn’t disappear into the mountains or off on crazy ultramarathons for days at a time.

The worst part had been the sex. Charlie knew her body still worked—she was able to make herself come when she was alone, after all—but sex with a partner had become an exercise in frustration and disappointment. Even with the ski instructor, a man five years younger than herself and—objectively speaking—hung like a horse, she’d failed to find any relief.

So was it any surprise her traitorous body had jumped at the opportunity to spend a night with Lorenz?

Lorenz’s hand wrapped around hers, gently pulling her out of the restaurant. The cold shocked her skin, but it didn’t touch the heat that coiled low in her body. Lorenz’s stride shortened to match hers.

“Lead the way,” he said, his voice husky. “I’ll follow in my car.”

The ten-minute ride should have been enough time to cool off.

Lorenz’s car kept a respectful distance, but somehow felt impossibly close. She knew that car. Had ridden in it hundreds of times, usually curled sideways in the passenger seat, since he’d always enjoyed driving.

Charlie gripped the steering wheel as the familiar road stretched out in front of her, snowbanks glowing faintly under the car’s headlights. Sensible thoughts rose to her mind.

This is a mistake.

You’ll regret it tomorrow.

But for every warning, a part of her had an answer.

I’ll regret it either way.

Might as well regret it after being well-fucked.