Page 16 of Maple Kissed by the Mountain Man

I gave the bag an authoritative pull. She refused to let go, and her boot heel slipped on the wet, slick maple leaves.

She pitched forward. Straight into me.

I dropped the bag into the leaves and caught her before she slammed into the dirt.

My arm locked around her waist, and I hauled her up as my free hand went straight beneath the heavy, generous curve of her ass to catch her weight.

Maggie landed against my chest, her thighs naturally parting around my leg. My thigh drove up between hers, denim to denim, and took most of her weight.

Her camera was pinned between us.

Every forbidden desire I’d been fighting for weeks came rushing back at the feel of her against my leg.

I moved the camera to the side and pulled her closer, crushing her soft breasts against my chest. Her small hands grabbed the front of my jacket for balance, and her warm belly settled directly against the rock-hard ridge of my cock.

She felt it.

There was zero way she couldn’t.

Heat punched through two layers of clothes. I felt her breath catch against my throat. Her brown eyes blew wide, but she didn’t pull back. She didn’t flinch.

“Still think you had your balance?” I asked, my breath hitting her lips.

She swallowed hard, her chest heaving against mine. “You... you pulled me.”

“You refused to let go.”

“You’re holding my ass, Burke.”

“You fell right into my hands.”

She laughed. “As if.”

My broad palm flexed against the denim, digging into the curve of her rear, pulling her body a fraction of an inch tighter against my hard length, which was really the only space between us. The seam of her jeans dragged up my thigh. She made a tiny, punched-out sound she tried to swallow.

“Ford...”

I knew that tone. I heard the desperate, breathless invitation laced through my name. I felt the subtle, unconscious shift of her hips pressing against me. She rocked once, barely there, but I felt it. I knew her panties would be wet. I would bet the mountain on it.

The last thread of my control snapped into pieces.

“You need to stop looking at me like that, Maggie.”

“Like what?”

“Like you want something you shouldn’t have.”

“What if I do want it?” she whispered.

I lowered my head.

Maggie lifted hers, her eyes locking onto mine.

Our mouths stopped a fraction of a millimeter apart, our hot breath mingling in the mountain air.

“Tell me to stop,” I murmured against her lips. “Say it.”

“I’ve been trying to get you to stop telling me no for weeks, Ford. I’m not saying it now.”