Page 34 of Cowboy Mountain Man

She looks directly into my eyes. “Yes, Harlan.”

A knock sounds at the door. I close my eyes.

Hope’s forehead drops against my chest. “Oh, for God’s sake.”

Despite everything, I laugh.

Then we step apart. Just in time.

Alden opens the door far enough to look inside. His gaze lands on me. Then shifts politely to the stove. “Cabin’s clear,” Alden says. “I’ll hold at the gate. Anybody comes up this road, you’ll hear from me.”

“I’ll keep my phone on.”

He nods toward my shoulder. “Let her finish patching you up.” He sets a clean shirt and a bottle of water on the counter. “Oh, and Harlan.” His voice hardens, and his jaw clenches. “Careful.”

Anger flashes, though I know he’s right. I furrow my forehead. “Of course.”

“Might want to review EPG’s rules.” Then he leaves.

My hands ball at my sides. He’s right. So right in fact I have half a mind to chase him down and switch places with him.

Hope looks up. “Do I have to sign anything?”

“For what?”

“Compromising my bodyguard.”

I brush the loose hair from her cheek. “I think I’m already compromised.”

Her smile fades into something softer. She steps close before I can say anything. “I know I can say no,” she tells me. “I know I can ask you to leave. And I know you’ll listen.”

I touch her jaw. “Yes.”

“I’m asking you to stay.”

Such a simple request. Yet my pulse kicks, heart thumping behind my ribs.

Our fingers tangle as she leads me down the hallway. The world narrows to what matters.

Her. Me. And the overwhelming sense that all I’ve ever wanted, everything worth protecting is wrapped up in this moment.

“We shouldn’t do this,” I grunt.

“Shouldn’t, but we are.”

“You know you’re going to be the death of me, Hope Rowan.” I search her face. “Or at a bare minimum, the death of my career.”

“Loose lips sink ships,” she says with a seductive flutter of her eyelashes. “But my lips are sealed. How about yours?”

“Point taken.”

In the bedroom, I nudge her to the edge of the bed, cupping her cheek and dipping my head to take her mouth. She tastes like vanilla and cinnamon. The same spice that colors her eyes and her thick locks of hair. But her fragrance is all lilacs and roses. Sweet, insistent, wrapping itself around me.

My fingers slide into her curls, finding the base of her neck, steadying her as my lips move over hers, finding the rhythm we both need. Her mouth parts on a sigh, and I sweep into her slowly, sensually. Fire building between us.

She’s soft against me. Yielding. Inviting. And yet hungry for more, demanding as her lips move over mine until we have to pull apart, panting for air.

I rest my forehead against hers, closing my eyes. A satisfied little hum dances across her lips.