Aw, man. What was he supposed to do with that?
She’d appealed to him from the very beginning, even in the general store, and when he’d caught sight of her up on this mountain, she’d seemed like an angel.
An angel he’d just been holding in his arms. Their emptiness felt stark now, cold after the warmth of her.
Did she want him to kiss her? Would it resurrect awful memories of another man? That thought alone held him back with an iron chain.
Yet her eyes held no sign of fear. If anything, they’d darkened with desire. She leaned forward a little. If he read her right, she welcomed him.
He couldn’t take advantage of her, certainly not when she was so vulnerable.
He brushed his fingers over her cheek, relishing the softness of her skin. “Jess, I want to kiss you.” Talk about an understatement. “But I won’t unless you want me to.”
A hint of question crossed her expression, but not fear. She regarded him, those wide blue eyes so beautiful. So rich. She seemed to be searching for something. For his motives? He could talk for days about why he wanted to kiss her. But maybe she just needed to know if she could trust him. She would need to see that for herself.
At last, she gave a tiny nod. “I do.”
The iron chain holding him back turned to warm butter, but he forced himself not to dive in. Not to scare her. This woman deserved to be treasured. Cherished. And he would show her what that meant.
He cupped her jaw with tender fingers, brushing his thumb over the full line of her bottom lip.
A shiver ran through her, making it even harder for him to move slowly.
He leaned in, little by little, and she met him partway. With less than a handsbreadth between them, he paused and searched her eyes, waiting. Noticing the flecks of gold and brown in her irises.
She had the feel of innocence about her. It was her smooth skin, unmarred by too many hours in the sun. It was the openness in her gaze. It was the hope that seemed to shine from within, despite all she’d endured.
But it was more than that. She seemed fragile, like her heart would wound if he didn’t handle her with the greatest care. She was somehow as strong as the walls of the cave she called home—and as tender as the newest blooms of spring.
He closed the final space between them and brushed his lips across hers, as gentle as he could manage.
The contact sent a flame through his body.
Her lips were pillow-soft, warm and yielding beneath his.
He lingered there a moment, then went back for another, careful not to move too quickly. He wanted her to know his feelings for her went deeper than any kiss could convey.
The third time, he tilted his head more to deepen the kiss, sliding his hand back to thread through her silky hair.
She sighed, her own hands coming up to rest on him, one against his chest and the other on his shoulder.
Her earnest response stirred hunger inside him. It took every ounce of his willpower not to respond the way he wanted to. But forced himself to stay tender and reverent, pouring into his kiss all the feelings he couldn’t yet put into words.
When they parted, they were both breathing heavily. Gil rested his forehead against hers, his eyes closed, relishing the feel of her. The warmth of her breath on his skin.
"Jess." Somehow he needed to tell her what she meant to him. What her trust meant to him. "I?—"
"Well, isn't this cozy." A sharp voice cut in, shattering the moment.
Jess jerked away, and Gil faced their interruption.
Mick McPharland stood in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes fierce.
Gil stifled the urge to cower and apologize. As far as McPharland knew, his daughter was Gil’s wife.
Maybe the man would rather not walk in on the scene, but he had no right to be angry about it.
And Gil wouldn’t cower before this man.
