Page 47 of Mountain Defender

Chin quivering, Rory stares at me. “Your Rory?”

Oops.

“Not mine. Not like that. But?—”

“I like it,” she says quietly. “Your Rory.” Her cheeks go pink. “But does that mean… Howdoyou feel about me?”

Everything narrows to this moment. When things could go the way I hope they do, or I find out it’s too late. Heart pounding, I say, “I think… that I want to be more than friends. I hope you’ll forgive me for keeping this a secret. And I really hope you’ll give me a chance.”

“A chance?”

“A chance to take you on a date. See where things between us go. And”—I cup her cheek as I lean in—“I’m hoping maybe I could kiss you. Like I’ve been thinking about doing for months.”

Rory leans her cheek into my hand. Her eyes close for a moment. When they reopen, they’re soft with affection. “I would really like that, too.”

My heart jumps. “The date? Seeing where things go?”

“All of it.” She edges closer to me, resting her hands on my thighs for balance. “And I’m thinking, maybe we could start with that kiss?”

“Yes.” My voice is rough. Laced with need. “I think that’s a fantastic idea.”

“So do I,” she breathes.

I bring my other hand to her face, framing it. On a held breath, I move in. Closer. But still with my eyes open, memorizing each perfect detail.

Her gorgeous eyes, pale green threaded with blue and emerald and silver.

Her lips, full and rosy, parted in anticipation.

The satin of her skin beneath my fingers.

The rapid rise and fall of her chest, showing off the lush swell of her breasts.

The flush of excitement spreading across her cheeks.

And the look she gives me, hope and joy and something so much deeper than friendship.

My heart swells with a happiness I didn’t know I could feel.

We draw closer. Just a whisper away.

And then.

We kiss.

Her lips are soft. Salty. A perfect fit to mine.

As our mouths meet, Rory lets out a small sigh. Her eyes flutter shut. One small hand moves from my leg to my shoulder.

At first it’s tender. Slow. I nip at her lower lip, then stroke away the tiny sting with my tongue.

A little moan sounds in the back of her throat. Her fingers clutch at my shirt.

Though my body wants to do more, to rush in, taste everything I’ve been fantasizing about for months, I force myself to go slow.

To take my time with it.

After all, how many times do you get your first kiss?