I want to look away, but all I can do is stare up at him hopelessly—my mountain man captor, my savior, my caretaker. He’s definitely ex-military. Who knows what this man has done. How truly dangerous he is.
…The thought sends my heart blazing.
I can’t deny it anymore. Iwanthim. I’m twenty years old and still a virgin. And it’s not because I’m socially awkward or hate men. I’ve always just been waiting for a moment like this. Where you feel something in your gut, in your heart, and it tells you that you’ve foundthe one.
Back in high school, I had a couple boyfriends, but the most we ever did was kiss. Every time they tried to take things further, I made them back off. They lost interest quickly after that. My friend Tiff introduced me to a‘personal toy’that would take the place of a guy, and that’s what I’ve been relying on for the last couple of years.
But now…I’m already imagining what it would be like to havethis mantake its place.
I must be insane. I don’t even know his name, his history, why he’s up here or whether I can trust him. But at the same time, he’s brutally gorgeous, built like a sculpture, and he handles me like I already belong to him.
“Still cold?”
My breath catches, and I swallow hard as I snap out of my fantasies and back to reality.
“Excuse me?”
“You’re shivering, gorgeous,” he says, his voice low as he lowers his body onto mine. “Should I move you closer to the fire?”
I blink twice and shake my head. “Oh, no. I’m not…I’m fine.”
His muscled physique radiates warmth like an engine. There’s not an ounce of fat on this man. His biceps seem impossible, and I could wash my clothes—if I had any—on his abs. As he shifts his weight, I feel a bulge from between his thighs. It presses against my mound, sending a jolt through me like nothing I’ve felt before.
“Your thigh.”
I blink, returning to my senses.
“What?”
“Your thighs, princess.” He runs a finger up the inside of my thigh, dangerously close to my pussy. For such a strong man, he’s shockingly delicate. “You’re red from the cold. I need to put some ointment on it.”
“You…have something like that?”
He chuckles. “I live on a mountain, sweetheart.”
As he sits up, a force like gravity tugs at my eyes, and I feast on the chiseled lines of his abs. My breath catches, and I tingle all over.
“Wait,” I whisper. “What’s your name?”
His eyes narrow as he looks down at me. “My name?”
“It’s only fair. You know mine.” He just stares back at me. “Come on, you said you’re not letting me go. What’s it matter?”
He continues to stare, then slowly, his lips twist into a grin.
“Rourke,” he replies, the perfect tone of his virile voice sinking into my chest.
“Rourke.” I nod, testing the feel on my tongue.
“Affirmative.”
“See? I knew you were military.”
He stands, chuckling, but doesn’t respond. I watch from the hearth as he walks to the bathroom, the defined lines of his sculpted back moving with each step. My head starts to spin, and I’m almost thankful for the few seconds he’s gone. It’s like a brief respite from magnificence.
When he returns, he’s carrying a tube of ointment that he sets beside me. Kneeling, he squirts a little on his hand, then gently rubs it on the tender spot on my thigh.
“Can I…have my clothes now, please?”
