Page 12 of Restored by the Mountain Man (Eden Ridge: Hunter Brothers #3)

ZOE

T he sensation of warm lips trail down my neck, strong hands mapping the curves of my body with reverent touches. In my dream, Ezra's mouth finds the sensitive spot where my neck meets my shoulder, and I arch into him with a soft moan.

"So beautiful," his deep voice rumbles against my skin as his fingers trace the edge of my tank top. "I've wanted to touch you like this since the moment you walked into my distillery."

His hands are everywhere, sliding under my shirt to cup my breasts, thumbs brushing over my nipples until they peak against his palms. The sensation shoots straight to my core and I press my thighs together, seeking friction.

"Ezra," I breathe, my hands fisting in his dark hair as he takes one nipple into his mouth, sucking gently before moving to the other.

"Tell me what you want, Sexy," he murmurs, the nickname makes my stomach flutter. His hand slides down my body, slipping beneath the waistband of my pajama pants.

I gasp as his fingers find me wet and ready, circling my clit with just the right pressure. "I want you to fuck me," I whisper. "Hard."

The dream feels so real I can almost taste him on my lips, feel the weight of his body above mine as he positions himself between my thighs. Just as he's about to push inside me, my eyes flutter open.

Reality crashes over me like cold water. I'm alone in the RV bed, my body flushed and aching from the vivid dream. Sunlight streams through the small windows, and I blink in confusion, trying to orient myself.

That's when I notice the folded piece of paper on Ezra's pillow.

With shaking hands, I reach for it, my heart still racing from the intensity of my dream.

Zoe,

Meeting with Francisco this morning to finalize our partnership. Didn't want to wake you since you looked so peaceful. Left breakfast sandwiches and coffee in the main area.

Back soon.

E

I clutch the note to my chest, my body still humming with unfulfilled desire. The simple gesture of him thinking to leave me food makes my heart flutter almost as much as the memory of his lips on mine last night.

Last night. Had that really happened? The tender kiss we shared, the way we held each other as we talked about our losses. It felt like a dream, but the lingering scent of his cologne on the pillow beside me confirms it was real.

I sit up slowly, my tank top clinging to my overheated skin. The RV is quiet except for the distant sound of machinery from the farm. Through the window, I see Francisco and Ezra walking along the edge of a field, deep in conversation.

The sight of Ezra in the morning light makes my breath catch. Even from this distance, his presence is commanding. Those broad shoulders, the confident way he moves, the intensity that radiates from him even when he's relaxed.

My dream floods back with vivid clarity and heat pools low in my belly. The way his hands felt on my skin, his mouth on my breast, the promise in his voice when he called me beautiful.

I know I should get up, shower, prepare for the drive back to Eden Ridge. We need to maintain our professional relationship. Last night was a moment of vulnerability between two grieving people, nothing more.

But my body has other ideas.

I glance toward the window again. Francisco and Ezra are walking away from the RV now, their backs to me as they head toward the grain silos. They'll be gone for at least thirty minutes, probably longer if they're touring the facilities.

The temptation is too strong to resist.

I slide back down in the bed, letting my eyes drift closed as I replay my dream. This time, I let my hands follow the path Ezra's took in my fantasy. I trail my fingers down my neck, imagining the scratch of his beard against my sensitive skin.

My nipples are already hard beneath the thin fabric of my tank top. I brush my thumbs over them through the material, biting my lip at the sensation. In my mind, it's Ezra's hands touching me, his mouth replacing my fingers.

"God, you're responsive," I imagine him saying, his voice rough with desire. "I love watching you come apart for me."

I slip one hand under my tank top, palming my breast while my other hand traces lower. My skin is electric, every nerve ending awakened by the fantasy playing in my head.

I imagine Ezra's lips trailing down my body, kissing and nipping at my skin until he reaches the waistband of my pajama pants. In my fantasy, he looks up at me with those intense gray-green eyes, seeking permission.

"Please," I whisper aloud, lost in the vision.

My hand slides beneath my pajama pants, finding myself already wet from the dream and the building arousal. I'm hypersensitive, my clit swollen and aching for attention.

I imagine it's Ezra's fingers touching me, exploring me with the same careful precision he brings to everything else. He'd take his time, learning what makes me gasp, what makes me arch against his touch.

"So wet for me," I imagine him murmuring against my inner thigh. "Tell me how this feels."

I circle my clit slowly, building the tension just like he would. Patient, methodical, driving me slowly insane with need. My other hand continues to tease my nipples, pinching and rolling them between my fingers.

The fantasy shifts and now I'm imagining Ezra's mouth on me. His tongue replacing his fingers, licking and sucking until I'm writhing beneath him. I increase the pressure on my clit, my hips rocking against my hand.

"Ezra," I breathe, his name falling from my lips in a moan.

In my mind, he's pushing two fingers inside me while his tongue works my clit. I slide my own fingers inside, curling them to hit that sweet spot that makes my back arch off the bed.

The dual sensation of my fingers inside me and my thumb circling my clit builds the pressure rapidly. I imagine Ezra's eyes watching me, drinking in every expression of pleasure that crosses my face.

"Come for me," I imagine him commanding, his voice dark and possessive. "Let me hear how good I make you feel."

My orgasm builds like a wave, starting deep in my core and spreading outward. My thighs clamp around my hand as I work myself higher, chasing the release that's just out of reach.

"Please," I gasp, my fantasy Ezra adding a third finger, stretching me as his tongue flicks against my clit.

The pressure finally breaks and I come with a muffled cry, my hand pressed over my mouth to keep from being too loud. Waves of pleasure crash over me, my body convulsing as I imagine Ezra working me through every pulse of my orgasm.

I lie there panting, my body slack with satisfaction and my mind hazy. The scent of my arousal mingles with the faint smell of Ezra's cologne that still clings to the bedding.

That's when I hear voices outside getting closer.

Panic shoots through me as I realize Ezra and Francisco are returning. I quickly pull my hands free and try to compose myself, my heart hammering for entirely different reasons now.

I hear the RV door open just as I manage to arrange myself to look like I've just woken up naturally. The bedsheets give me some cover as I pretend to stretch sleepily.

"Morning," Ezra's voice comes from the main area, carefully neutral.

"Morning," I call back, hoping my voice doesn't betray what I've just been doing. "How did the meeting go?"

There's a pause and I wonder if he can smell the evidence of my private moment. Heat floods my cheeks at the thought.

"Very well. Francisco and I have reached an agreement." His voice is closer now, like he's approaching the bedroom doorway. "The partnership is official."

"That's wonderful!" I inject genuine enthusiasm into my voice, pushing aside my embarrassment. This is huge for the distillery, exactly the kind of expansion opportunity that could transform their business.

"There's coffee and breakfast when you're ready," he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. "We should probably head back to Eden Ridge soon."

"Give me fifteen minutes to get ready?"

"Take your time."

I listen to him move around the main area, probably packing up our things. When I'm sure he's occupied, I slip out of bed and gather my clothes, desperate for a shower to wash away the evidence of my fantasy.

The bathroom facilities in the main house feel like a blessing. I stand under the hot spray longer than necessary, trying to clear my head and restore some semblance of professionalism.

But even as I soap my body, I can't stop thinking about the dream. The kiss we shared last night proved there's something building between us but acting on it would be complicated at best, disastrous at worst.

He's my boss. He's still grieving his wife. I'm still figuring out how to live without Tom. Neither of us are in a position to start something serious, even if the chemistry between us is undeniable.

By the time I return to the RV, dressed in fresh clothes and with my hair pulled back in a professional ponytail, I've managed to convince myself that keeping things platonic is the mature choice.

That resolve lasts exactly thirty seconds after I see Ezra loading our bags into his truck.

He's changed into a clean button-down shirt that highlights the breadth of his shoulders and the strength of his forearms. When he looks up and catches me staring, his eyes darken in a way that makes my kitty purr.

"Ready?" he asks, his voice rougher than usual.

"Ready," I lie, because I'll never be ready for the way this man affects me.

The drive back to Eden Ridge starts in comfortable silence. I watch the farmland roll past the windows, trying to process everything that's happened in the last twenty-four hours. And the kiss that changed everything.

And the fantasy that's still playing on repeat in my mind.

"Thank you," Ezra says suddenly, breaking into my thoughts.

"For what?"

"Last night. For listening. For understanding." His hands tighten on the steering wheel. "I haven't talked about Elizabeth and Rosie like that since they died."

My heart clenches at the raw honesty in his voice. "Thank you for trusting me with their story."