Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 27760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 139(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 139(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
Holt’s laugh is rough, strained, but it’s real, and it warms something deep in my chest. He covers my hand with his, pressing it tighter against his skin, and the look he gives me is like a promise—dangerous, unsteady, but full of a hope that neither of us knows how to hold yet. “Guess that makes two of us, city girl.”
Before I can second-guess myself, before the fear can take over again, I surge forward, capturing his mouth with mine. It’s a kiss that tastes like everything we’ve been too afraid to say, a clash of lips and teeth and breath, rough and unrestrained. Holt groans against my mouth, his arms wrapping around me, pulling me against him like he’s afraid I might disappear again.
The mountain wind whips around us, and the world tilts beneath my feet, but I don’t care. All I know is the feel of his hands on my back, the heat of his body pressing against mine, and the way he kisses me like I’m the only thing keeping him anchored to the earth. For a moment, there’s no distance between us, no walls, no fears—just the wild, electric thrill of being seen, being held, being wanted.
When we finally break apart, gasping for air, I rest my forehead against his, my hands fisted in his shirt. “I don’t know how to do this, Holt. I don’t know how to be this brave.”
Holt’s thumb brushes over my cheek, his voice a low, rough whisper that sends a shiver racing down my spine. “You already are, Lila. And I’m not going anywhere. Not unless you tell me to.”
I swallow hard, blinking back the tears that burn at the corners of my eyes, and shake my head. “No. I don’t want you to go.” My voice cracks, but the words are as steady as I can make them. “I want to stay at Devil’s Peak. I want to try. With you.”
Holt’s grip tightens on my waist, his mouth finding mine again in a kiss that’s softer this time, but no less consuming. And as the sun sets behind us, turning the sky into a blaze of gold and crimson, I realize that maybe, for the first time in my life, I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.
Chapter Ten
Holt
The cabin glows in the golden light of the setting sun, shadows from the pine trees dancing along the wooden floors. I lean against the counter, arms crossed, my eyes on Lila as she attacks a lump of pasta dough with a determination that makes my chest tighten. Her hair is pulled back, wisps escaping to frame her face, and she’s got flour smudged on her cheek, right below the delicate curve of her cheekbone. It’s all I can do not to reach out and brush it away, to feel her skin warm under my touch.
“You know,” I drawl, watching the way her hands work the dough, fingers flexing, “I didn’t think a city girl like you knew how to get her hands dirty.” My voice carries that teasing edge, the one I know she hates, but I can’t resist. Not when she looks up at me like that, eyes flashing, the way she bites her lip as if she’s considering whether I’m worth a response.
She rolls her eyes, but a smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, mountain man.” She brushes a stray lock of hair back with her wrist, leaving a streak of flour across her cheek. The sight of it makes something twist inside me. She catches me staring and arches an eyebrow, all challenge and fire. “What, you think just because I like cappuccinos and Wi-Fi, I can’t make fresh pasta?”
I push off the counter, closing the distance between us in a few easy strides until my chest brushes her back. Her breath hitches, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she stiffens slightly, as if bracing herself against whatever I’m about to do. I lean in, my lips brushing the shell of her ear. “I think,” I murmur, letting my voice drop low, “that you like showing off.”
Her hands falter on the dough, but she recovers fast, shoving an elbow back against my ribs. “You want to learn how to make real pasta, or do you just like being a pain in my ass?” Her tone is sharp, but there’s a thread of something else there, something breathless and electric.
I chuckle, the sound rumbling against her back, feeling the way her muscles tense under my hands. I let my palms slide over hers, guiding her movements in the dough, feeling the warmth of her skin against mine. “Fine, teach me, then,” I say, my lips close enough to her neck that I catch the scent of her—something sweet and earthy, like wildflowers. “But don’t expect me to go easy on you, princess.”