Page 67 of Mountain Dreams

Two hours later, she was driving back to Mountain Dreams, her anticipation rising along with the road. She’d been gone longer than intended, and she hoped he’d waited up for her. The living room light shone through the front window, so she took that as a good sign.

A few minutes later, using the key he’d given her, she opened the front door. She was disappointed when she didn’t see him sitting there, and she thought he might be in the kitchen. However, if he’d heard her come in, he probably would have come out to greet her. She took off her shoes, hung her coat in the closet, and set her laptop bag on the floor next to the couch.

He must be upstairs. She stood in the middle of the living room, wondering what to do. Then, feeling impatient, she decided to investigate. After all, he’d repeatedly told her to make herself at home, assuring her she was welcome in every room of the house. Does that include his bedroom?

Her feet carried her up the stairs, and when she reached the top, she heard the shower running, which explained why he hadn’t heard her come in.

Go back downstairs and wait for him. Her feet propelled her forward, though, and the next thing she knew, she was standing in front of his open bedroom door. She peeked inside at the now-familiar room and saw his clothes laid out on the bed. Just then, the water shut off.

She froze, trying to decide whether to go downstairs and pretend she was never there or…

Too late! He waltzed into the room with a towel wrapped loosely around his waist, drying his hair with another one. He stopped abruptly and looked at her with surprise. Then his face split into a huge grin.

“Welcome home,” he said.

“Thanks.” She was still standing in the doorway, and she leaned against the frame for support. Her gaze traveled over him, taking in his tousled hair, bare chest, and the towel, which sat dangerously low on his hips.

“How was your meeting?” he said, sounding amused.

What meeting? Did I have a meeting? “Good,” she croaked.

“I wasn’t sure what time you’d be home, so I decided to take a shower.”

“I see that.”

He took a step closer. “You came looking for me.”

She nodded and swallowed hard.

Another step.

“Feeling impatient?”

God, yes! “Um-hmm.”

“Me too.”

He stopped in front of her, just out of reach yet close enough that she smelled his body wash, a spicy, masculine scent that matched the man. He studied her intently, seemingly waiting for her to say or do something.

Tired of waiting, she stepped into him, and it was like she flipped a switch. He dropped the towel he’d been holding, and his arms went around her, almost crushing her to his damp chest. She coiled her arms around his neck and pulled his head down for a kiss.

This kiss was unlike any of the previous ones, unfettered, urgent.

She threaded her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, loving the feel of it, the feel of him. Suddenly she was being lifted, and she wound her legs around his waist as he carried her toward the bed. Once they reached the edge of it, he broke their kiss.

“Tell me you’re sure about this,” he demanded, his voice deeper than she’d ever heard it.

“I’m sure,” she replied without hesitation.

She expected him to topple onto the bed with her, but instead, he gently set her down so she was seated on the edge. Then he took her arms and lifted them overhead. With a searing gaze, he tucked his fingers under the hem of her sweater and lifted it up and off. Unlike the other night, when he’d tossed his shirt on the floor, he took the time to neatly fold her sweater before placing it atop his pile of clothes.

“Didn’t think you’d want it to get wrinkled,” he said, his eyes dancing with humor.

She smiled in return.

He continued to undress her with agonizing slowness, like he was savoring every moment, and he neatly folded every article of clothing he removed.

When she was down to her underwear, she was shaking with need. “Hurry,” she said.