Page 12 of Craved By the Mountain Man

And that body.

Soft everywhere a man wanted softness. Full breasts, broad hips, thick thighs, curves I had spent the better part of that weekend trying not to look at and the next two years remembering anyway.

Wanting to fuck her would have been bad enough.

Then I started wanting to hear her laugh again. Wanted her sitting in my kitchen. Wanted to know what she was drawing when she bent over that napkin with her lower lip caught between her teeth.

That was worse.

I’d made damn sure no woman mattered enough to get under my skin. Hannah did it in a weekend without touching me once.

So I left.

Kaden could not complain about what I did not do.

It did not stop me thinking about her afterward, and it sure as hell did not stop my body from remembering her the second I saw her tonight.

I open the bedroom door.

She is where I left her, looking like she is trying to decide whether climbing through a window would count as an overreaction.

“Give me your phone.”

“Excuse me?”

“I want to see the messages.”

“I can handle it.”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t.”

That slows her down.

I hold out my hand.

She looks at it, then at me.

“I’m having a complicated evening with men telling me what to do.”

“With me?”

Her mouth opens, then closes.

“No.”

“Then let me see the phone.”

She mutters something I do not catch and digs it out of her coat. The screen shows one weak bar.

She unlocks it and hands it over.

I scan the messages. There are no names, no direct threat, nothing she could hand to the police and expect an easy answer.

Whoever wrote them knows what he is doing.

I hand the phone back.

“How much?”