To Claim the Mountain Man

Chapter 28

HEATH

I never should've come to Garrett's place to watch the game. I never should've put my hands on Isla when I saw Dexter flirting with her. I shouldn't have followed her outside.

And, fuck... I shouldn't have kissed her.

But as soon as she started speaking, her lips trembling and tears glossing her pale blue eyes, my resolve crumbled. All that mattered in that moment was calming Isla's fears. Grounding her by wrapping my arms around her back and drawing her lithe body against my chest. Once I had her in my embrace, there was no stopping myself.

I'd been an ass that evening.Christ, I'd been an ass.

As soon as I walked into Garrett and Natalie's that evening, my mood soured at the knowledge that Isla would be there. Not because I didn't want to see her, but because I didn't want to see her surrounded by Dexter and the other shameless, single bastards that I called my friends. I warned myself to maintain a healthy distance between me and Isla throughout the night to avoid rousing any suspicion, but that didn't last long.

Once Isla arrived, looking like a fuckin' dream, my agitation multiplied. I tried to focus on my conversation with Stefanie, a nice nurse who I'd met a handful of times in the past, but my plan went to hell as soon as Garrett brought Isla over. She wasn't acting like herself, but I was so caught up in myself—in ensuring that her brother didn't suspect anything—that I didn't realize how my actions could've hurt her.

Then I saw her on the couch with Dexter and overheard the man ask her on a date. I couldn't hold myself back any longer.

I chased Isla out the front door knowing that she had every right to be angry with me, but, after enduring the turmoil of confusion and jealousy and frustration and desire of the last few hours, I was unwilling to let her leave. Not without me. I'd been an idiot to assume otherwise.

My mouth grazed the little hollow beneath her ear. Every peppered kiss was a silent plea for forgiveness. "Kiss me, sweetheart," I begged for the second time.

"Heath..." My name was a breathless whisper on her lips as she tilted her head back, eyes closed. "We can't."

The protest lacked any true conviction, but, with Isla still tight in my arms, I backpedaled toward my truck parked at the end of the drive. It wasn't far and, when we reached the far side of the vehicle, it offered sufficient cover from the house's windows and the road.

No one would see us now. Not without giving us a warning of their approach, at least. I prayed that would be enough to quell Isla's doubts, because I sure as hell couldn't wait until we got home.

Both of her hands landed on my chest, fisting at the cotton of my Henley. Silver still lined the edges of her eyes as she stared up at me. "What about the rules?"

"Fuck the rules," I growled, my hands rising to cup her jaw. I'd never begged for anything in life, but I would beg for Isla. That realization should've scared me more than it did. "Kiss me."

With one last glance in the direction of the house, now blocked by the cab of my truck, Isla relented. At last, she tilted her chin up and stood on her toes to bridge the distance between our lips. We shared a breath, then another. Then she kissed me.

She was hesitant at first, as if still not convinced that we should be doing this at her brother's home. Her mouth was warm and chaste, never connecting out lips for longer than two seconds before pulling back an inch. Each time she leaned in again, her kisses became more firm, more confident.

Her fingers slid up and down my chest, exploring. They ventured up my neck, rubbing at the scruff lining my jaw, and it took no small amount of control to keep from hauling her closer, pressing and molding my possessive lips over hers.