Claimed by the Mountain
Shade Winters, Ellie Rowe
One look at her curves in that flannel, green eyes begging for trouble, and every wall I built after the fire crumbled. She’s too soft for these mountains. Too bright. Too damn tempting.
But she keeps pushing—camera in hand, questions on her lips, body too close when the storm traps us in that cave. I tell myself it’s just one job. One paycheck. One night.
Then I taste her. Feel her shatter under my hands. Watch her eyes roll back while she whispers my name like a prayer.
Now she’s mine. Every freckle. Every gasp. Every inch she tries to run from.
She thinks she can walk away after I’ve marked her inside and out.
She’s wrong.
I’m keeping her. Marking her. Building her a life right here where the pines hide what’s mine.
She thought I’d let her go when this was over.
Good thing I know these trails better than anyone.
Read on for scarred mountain man obsession, forced proximity heat, protective claiming, and a grumpy mountain man who’ll burn the world before he lets her go. HEA Guaranteed!
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