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Her fingers twist into my hair and she kisses me again.

Hard.

Her mouth opens under mine, and then she’s climbing into my lap.

Fuck.

She straddles me, the T-shirt riding high around her hips, and my cock goes painfully hard beneath her.

Hannah feels it. Her breath catches against my mouth.

I stop.

She draws back just enough to look at me. Her pupils blown wide. Then she presses herself against me.

A growl rumbles out of my chest before I can stop it.

Hannah stills.

Shit.

But she doesn’t pull away. Her eyes search mine, and I know the instant the gold hits them because her expression changes.

“Your eyes,” she murmurs.

I force my beast back. “Sorry.”

“Don’t.”

That one word nearly fucking kills me. Her fingers tighten in my hair and she kisses me again. I pull her closer, and this time I quit holding back.

Hannah meets me with the same hunger, tugging at my hair, pressing herself closer. The T-shirt has ridden almost to her waist. I slide my hands underneath it and cup her breasts for the very first time.

A sigh escapes her.

Fuck.

She shivers at my touch and reaches for the hem. I help her pull it over her head. It lands somewhere behind the sofa.

Hannah laughs.

Then both of us turn.

Because a truck has just pulled into the yard.

“Shit, Torin, my shirt!”

Hannah scrambles off me, and I reach behind the sofa for it. I hand it to her just as a door slams.

I try to get myself under control before Orson comes around the side of the lodge.

He takes one look at us.

Hannah is busy tugging my T-shirt down over her thighs. I’m still sitting there with a hard-on that’s going to take a while to disappear.

Orson looks away. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, you live here,” Hannah says, her cheeks turning pink.