“You’ll see.” He squeezes my waist, heavy, his thick fingers sinking into my flesh.
I bite back the moan that threatens when one finger slides over my hip bone and hits that freaking sensitive spot that leaves me all shivery and loose boned. The mountain man behind me huffs. Damnit, he knowsexactlywhat he’s doing.
Drake warned me about this man.
Yeah, and I ignored those warnings because I need what Gabriel Decker offers.
“Don’t do that,” I mutter, because getting a breath in when he’s doing that and being near this man is damn near impossible.
“Help you, honey?” The laughter in his voice is barely constrained.
“You know what,” I mutter, slapping at his hands like his touch is offensive.
Spoilers: his touch is so far from offensive that I’m trembling all over, and we can both feel that.
He doesn’t stop his version of helping me, and he doesn’t let go.
“Three more,” he says quietly. “You can make it, honey.”
“Elena,” I pant, and not from exertion. “My name is Elena Markham.”
“Mmm.” he makes a low noise in his chest that might be approval at my giving him my name, or not. “Well, Elena Markham, welcome to my home. Sorry it’s not to your…liking.” He lifts me the last few steps and deposits me on the smooth, hard wood floor that forms an open canopy above the forest.
This is why my legs hurt. This is why they shake so badly.
We’re at tree height of the giant kind. Above the canopy, almost.
I can see the nearest neighbors, and we’re at the same level. And I can see them because…there are no walls. Well, one, if it counts. Behind me. The rest of the house is… open.
Gabriel Decker’s mountain home is one giant tree house complete with a huge lily pad style arched roof that looks straight out into more mountains than I have ever seen in my life.
I stare and stare with my mouth open. I think a little drool comes out. A gentle hand closes my mouth. Gentle fingers stroke my jawline in a featherlight touch, so at odds with the bulk of the huge, rough-hewn man drawn from the side of the mountain that instead of staring at the vista laid out before me, I’m staring at him instead.
“Breathe, Elena,” he murmurs.
Hearing my name on his lips for the first time does strange things to my brain. I barely respond as he settles beside me on the floor, ignoring the wooden, hand carved furniture scattered about the enormous platform like room.
His shoulder nudges mine as he turns away to look out at the mountains beyond his, his jaw set in a determined line, the diamond hard quality visible even beneath the scruff of his beard.
Once more the desire to run my fingers through the mass of curly fibers slams into me. I knot my hands in my lap and press downward to prevent any unintentional groping.
“You said you need my help.”
Ah, negotiations have started. I didn’t expect him to do small talk but he really has gotten right down to it.
“You said you have coffee,” I counter.
“I do.” He turns his head to look at me, his arms slung loosely over his knees.
The sheer presence of this enormous man hits me again. I tuck my knees beneath me, squeezing my fingers together.Looks like that coffee isn’t coming any time soon.A shuddering breath releases from my chest.
“You were a sniper, right?” I check, but he doesn't seem to have brought his rifle up to the platform living area with him.Did you lock up below? I pray you did.
That conversation with Drake back at Hope Peak in Perfect Brews runs through my mind at double the speed it actually happened.
“What sort of help do you need, Elena?”
“The sort that will end a problem forever.”
