“Cord.” My hands found his hair, pulling him closer as I said his name. I knew this was the moment I’d been waiting for all of my life. To let myself be in the moment. Take what I wanted. “You are a decent man and I want you.”
He pulled back, his face inches from mine. The brooding mask was gone, replaced by raw, explosive heat.
“I know who you are, Poppy,” he said, his voice a low, possessive rumble. “I’m not taking care of you because I think you’re weak. I’m taking care of you because I need to. Because the thought of anything happening to you, makes me freak out.”
I smiled at his words. He worried about me. Cared for me to some extent if what he was saying was true. Which I believed it was. Then, I thought about all the reasons this was complicated. I thought about the season ending and what came after and who I’d been before I dove two days and stopped at a diner and followed sketchy directions up a mountain road.
I thought about the girl who’d spent her whole life taking care of everyone else and never once let anyone take care of her.
And just like that, I knew who I was.
I was just me. Here. On a mountain in Montana, with a man who wanted me. Who was standing in front of me, desire in his eyes.
I made a decision the old Poppy never would have. I leaned into him, my lips brushing his. “Then stop talking, Mountain Man. And show me.”
He didn’t need to be told twice. He captured my mouth in a kiss that tasted like the storm—wild, cold, and utterly life-changing. As his tongue swept into my mouth, his hand slid up, cupping my breast, his thumb raking over my nipple.
I let out a broken sound, my legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him as deep into my curves as he could go. The storm was raging outside, but in here, the only thing that mattered was the heat.
The explosive, terrifying heat of finally being found. Of being claimed.
CHAPTER SIX
Cord
The storm was howling outside, but all I could hear was the ragged sound of Poppy’s breath. I’d spent ten years on this mountain making sure everything stayed in its place, but as I stood there in my kitchen with a soaking wet, curvy angel of chaos, I knew I was done for.
I’d known it since she’d dropped to her knees in the greenhouse and started apologizing to broken plants. A man doesn’t come back from that.
I lifted her off the counter and carried her to my bedroom, my hands griping the lush weight of her thighs. My cock was straining against my jeans, so hard it was a physical ache. I set her on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under our weight.
Naked from the waist up, she was a masterpiece of cream-colored skin and heavy, breathtaking curves. Her breasts were full, with dark, turgid nipples that were begging for my tongue. Her waist dipped into the kind of wide, flared hips that a man was meant to hold onto for dear life.
“God, Poppy.” I dropped to my knees between her legs, my hands sliding up her thighs, then higher. I reached for the waistband of her leggings, peeling the wet fabric down her legsuntil she was completely bare before me. “Do you have any idea of how much I fucking want you?”
Her fingers tangling in the quilt, her face flushed a deep, beautiful pink. Her eyes met mine and something flickered in them—not fear, but a vulnerability she didn’t usually let show. She was very still.
I went still too.
I’d had my hands on enough women to know the difference between nerves and hesitation, and what I was seeing wasn’t hesitation. I leaned back, giving her room, searching her face.
“Poppy.” My voice came out low and careful. “Am I moving too fast?”
She held my gaze, her chin lifting just slightly — that particular brand of Poppy courage that I was starting to recognize as the thing she did when she was about to be honest about something that cost her. “No,” she said quietly. “I’ve just. I’ve just never let anyone close enough before.”
I instinctively knew what she was trying to tell me. She was a virgin.
The air left my lungs. A primal, possessive roar went off in my head. The thought of being her first—the only man to ever touch her, to ever taste her—made me feel like I owned the entire damn mountain. It changed everything. My need to rush, to claim her roughly, vanished, replaced by a fierce, protective need to make this perfect for her.
Her first… my thoughts raced at all the things I wanted to share with her. Be her first in. The first to take her. Make her feel as special as she deserved.
“Okay,” I said. Just that.
Her gaze searched mine, waiting for the rest of it. The hesitation, the pulling back, the making it weird. I didn’t give her any of that.
I leaned down and pressed my mouth to the valley between her breasts, feeling the fast, nervous kick of her heart against my lips. “You’re going to tell me if you want me to stop,” I murmured against her skin. “And I’m going to take my time. Those are the only two rules.”
I felt her exhale—long and slow, the tension leaving her body like a tide going out.
