Page 36 of Tormented Hearts

“Sinead…”

The rough edge of his jawline where his beard tingled against her lips.

Every time he said her name it did something to her chest that had nothing to do with lust or getting caught up in a moment.

It was warm and dangerous.

A feeling she would have scoffed at a week ago as the sort of thing that happened to other people.

When the sun finally cleared the ridgeline fully, flooding the whole mountain range gold at once, she almost missed the exact view people went to extreme lengths to see.

Her eyes were nearly closed. Her fingers were in his hair. The light was warm against her skin.

She was a woman who negotiated boardrooms, who’d built walls around herself so well that most people gave up trying to find the door.

And here she was in the middle of the Wyoming wilderness, unraveled completely by a man she’d known for mere days.

Chapter Eight

Hawk lay there a moment, still catching his breath, one arm looped loosely around Sinead’s waist. He drew in a deep breath.

The scent of the mountains flooded him, a scent a person wouldn’t know unless they spent time in them. A scent he’d missed like hell after years in the military. The first thing he did when he returned to Wyoming was head straight into the mountains just to breathe the air.

But mixed with the familiar smell was Sinead. Clean, faint citrus, and mint toothpaste.

She wiggled beneath him and he realized she wasn’t exactly lying in a comfortable spot. He shifted to the side and propped himself on his elbow to study her properly.

Her hair tumbled over the ground, her skin still wearing the flush of release. Her lips were puffy from kissing…and a faint red streak on her throat where he’d gotten a bit rough.

A possessive satisfaction wove through him, and he couldn’t hold back a smile.

She eyed him. “What are you smiling at?”

“You.” He wasn’t going to tell her that she wore his beard burn.

Her chest gave a little heave, and then she sat up and reached for her clothes. With the same brisk efficiency she brought to everything else, she began to dress.

She pulled her shirt over her head and the soft, unguarded version of her from a few minutes ago slipped beneath the tougher, composed version of Sinead. He watched the transformation and felt a low pang of disappointment that she was shifting gears so fast even though he knew they were burning daylight.

“I take it you’re not a cuddler.”

She tossed him a look. “I’d like to get washed up.”

“I think there’s a little water in my pack.”

She slipped on her boots and bent to tie them, movements quick and sure. Around a curtain of hair, she met his gaze. “Get dressed. I found something.”

He didn’t argue. As he pulled his clothes on with a speed he learned from dressing in full gear in under a minute, he caught her glancing at him.

That same possessive pride rippled through him, something he rarely felt with a woman—he never cared to stake a claim on many. But the smoldering glances stolen from lowered lashes stirred him in a place much higher than the body part he’d just used.

When he had to tug his fly to fit around his still stiff cock, she definitely noticed, if the pink in her cheeks was anything to go by.

After he was ready, she gave him her full attention. “Come with me.”

He moved forward. “Where are we going?”

“I’ll show you.”