Page 49 of When The Mountains Held Us

“That’s okay! I just need… a minute.” I am spectacularly trying and failing to hide my ragged breathing, and I know he can hear the shake in my voice.

An awkward few seconds pass before his gruff voice sounds again.

“Oh, um, yeah. No problem.” He clears his throat and his voice deepens slightly with his next words. “Take all the time you need in there.”

Mortification burns through me as I listen to his retreating footsteps.

It’s official. There is no way I can go downstairs and face him after I’m pretty sure he heard me moan in my sleep.

Hey, God? Can you do me a solid real quick? Just take me out of my misery.

I lay in my puddle of shame for a minute longer before conceding that, no, I should not, in fact, throw myself out the window from the embarrassment. Everyone has sex dreams! It’s natural. Healthy, even. He’s a man; I’m sure he has them more than I do.

And suddenly, I’m no longer thinking about my sex dream, but imagining the things he does in his.

Great. Just perfect.

I throw the blankets off of me in frustration, growing more irritated by the second when I realize the sheets are tangled in my legs. After a momentary struggle, I manage to free myself and clamber out of bed. Cracking the bedroom door, I poke my head out, and once determining the coast is clear, sprint across the hallway and into the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind me.

He wasn’t kidding. The room is even more atrocious in the daylight. I might be taking him up on his offer to paint.

I use the bathroom, kicking my soaked panties into the corner in shame before realizing I didn’t grab another pair before I came in here. Commando it is. I finish up quickly, not wanting to give Levi any more reason to think, than he already does, that I’m up here, rubbing one out.

I give my teeth a quick brush and splash some water on my face before straightening my shirt, grabbing my underwear, and yanking open the door. I toss the panties through the open bedroom door as I pass and make my way down the hall.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee greets me as I descend the stairs, and I follow the smell like a bloodhound on the hunt into the kitchen, where Levi is sitting at the counter, a newspaper in one hand and a mug in the other, poised halfway to his lips.

His eyes dart to mine when I approach, taking in my sleep-rumpled clothes and tangled hair, and he smirks at me over the rim of his coffee mug. The look he’s giving me drags me straight back to the dream of his head between my legs, and I quickly avert my gaze, busying myself in the fridge to hide the flush in my cheeks.

“I don’t think you’re gonna find your cup of hot coffee in the fridge, darlin’.”

I roll my eyes at my idiocy when he calls me out. Hastily grabbing a water bottle, I turn to take the seat across from him at the counter, where he pushes a coffee mug towards me in a silent peace offering. I take it gratefully, setting aside the untouched water bottle, willing myself to chill the fuck out.

The hot liquid slides down my throat, and the flavor explodes across my tongue. Rich and dark with a hint of maple, this coffee sits in stark contrast to my normal cup of joe—something I can only describe as swill compared to this stuff. Levi must sense my appreciation because he raises an amused brow in my direction as I take another sip.

“It’s good, isn’t it?”

“I’ve never tasted anything like it. Is this the same coffee you brought me the other morning? It tastes like maple.”

He nods as he takes another sip of his own and sets the newspaper down on the counter in front of him. “It’s made in the next town over. The maple is straight from their trees that they harvest every year.”

“It’s delicious.”

“There’s more in the pot when you’re ready for another cup.” He gestures behind him to the simple yet efficient coffee maker sitting on the far end of the counter.

I give a grateful nod, then notice my phone sitting idly on the counter, the screen dark. I must have left it down here last night when I walked in. It’s probably dead by now.

I reach for it, but before my fingers can close around the sleek black case, Levi’s large hand comes down over top of it, trapping my fingers against it. My eyes dart up to his face, and what peers out at me from those dark green depths has my brow furrowing in confusion.

Something I can only describe as reserved caution stares back at me, and I wait for him to explain. The gesture is puzzling, but I’ve learned in my short time with this man that he doesn’t seem to do anything without reason.

“There’s something we need to discuss,” he starts, and unease winds its way through my belly at the words.

I sit silently, my coffee forgotten, as I wait for him to continue, his hand still trapping mine against the counter. Moments in which he seems to be gauging me for any reaction pass in tense silence, until I feel like I’m going to burst from the nervous anticipation.

When he doesn’t continue, irritation coats my insides, and I narrow my eyes at him.

“Out with it, Levi.”