Artist Seeks Mountain Man (Bear Mountain Brothers Book 3) by Marley Michaels

Author:Marley Michaels [Michaels, Marley]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-01-07T16:00:00+00:00

11

Indy

I slowly open my eyes, my back as stiff as a board when I do, then I stop and take stock in all I'm seeing. I’m on the floor of my living room, lying on a sheepskin rug, lying on Nash Carson’s side, draped all over him in fact, embers glowing lazily in the firebox as it dwindles with time.

Not daring to move—nor wanting to—I think back to last night. The planned date and all the excitement and butterflies that came with that. Then almost dragging Nash inside when he turned up looking so damn handsome with his onyx hair styled and wearing a dress shirt and pants like he walked off the pages of Mountain Men Monthly or something.

Then the elk, the ditch, the tire, kissing on the snowy roadside, and coming back home, making date plans on the fly just so I could stretch out my time with him a little longer.

After arriving back at the house, Nash grabbed extra clothes from his truck and had a shower while I got changed, then heated a can of soup and made the grilled cheese in the griddle. By the time I was done with the food, Nash was building the fire in the living room. Then we made a little cushy warm picnic spot on the rug, and sure enough, there was a lot of that promised kissing done after we’d finished eating.

I wanted more than just kissing. But after the events of the night, our kisses slowed, and we fell asleep in each other's arms, the comfort, heat, and pure happiness meaning I did so with a content smile on my face as Nash slowly stroked his hand up and down my back. I couldn’t stay awake anymore.

“Hmm…” Nash rumbles as he shifts and pulls me up and over so I’m lying on top of him. “Morning, Dash.”

“Morning, Gusty,” I say with a giggle.

He quirks a brow, his eyes seemingly darker this morning than normal. But they’re soft and gentle and dare I say—happy?

I brace myself up on an arm by his head and look down, my gaze roaming his face and taking all that is Nash in, committing his rugged beauty to memory. He’s such a fascinating subject. I can just imagine painting him in my mountain view studio, immortalizing him in paint.

“C’mere, Indy. I wanna kiss my girl good morning.”

I sag against him. “Your girl.”

“Yeah. You OK with that?”

“More than,” I say, beaming at him. “That means you’re my boy.”

“I prefer man.”

“My man, then.” My cheeks hurt, I’m grinning so much.

He chuckles and the vibrations against my body elicit a soft moan in my throat. Nash’s eyes darken. “Better,” he murmurs before his hand hooks around the back of my head and he’s jerking my mouth down, our lips slamming together as he pushes his tongue into my mouth and claims every single inch of it before finally letting me go for some much-needed air. “Fuck it. I want you in the bedroom. Now.”

My inner Indy does a little dance and I squirm against him.

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