Page 70 of Gunnar

I mean, I might’ve been fantasizing about this happening, as he led me through the forest, his gigantic hand enveloping mine. But I hadn’t realized that he might actually want me, little human me, for real.

My head is spinning.

“Alexandria,” he murmurs.

My pulse is still racing.

“Yes?”

His thumb moves against my skin.

“You’re dangerous.”

I make a small sound. “I didn’t do anything.”

“No.” He gives a ragged groan. “You just show up here on my mountain and kiss me like that.”

I swallow. “You kissed me first.”

He’s silent for a long time, nostrils flaring. “I did,” he replies at last. He takes a step back, emotions passing across his face too quick to register.

“You regret it?” I ask.

His gaze drifts to my lips.

“No,” he says at last.

He steps toward me again, erasing the space between us.

This time there’s no hesitation.

He pulls me in hard, his body solid against mine.

“Gunnar—”

It comes out thin, barely a word.

His hand lifts to my jaw, holding me there.

For a second he just looks at me—like he’s deciding something.

Then he kisses me again.

Not careful this time.

His mouth is rough, demanding, his grip tightening as his hands move over me—restless, searching.

The force of it knocks the breath out of me.

I don’t pull away.

I lean into it.

Want more of it.

More of him.

The clearing disappears. The cold disappears.