Master of the Mountain

the wine bottle, he leaned over and threaded his fingers in her hair. When he tightened them, he had control.

She jumped in surprise and tried to wrench away.

With a steady pull on her hair, he forced her to look at him.

Her mouth opened.

“You do not have permission to speak,” he growled.

Not only did she stay silent but her pupils dilated slightly. Her cheeks flushed.

The sands shifted under him again. Spirited. Vulnerable. Sweet. Could she really be submissive also?

Releasing her, he cupped her chin in his hand, seeing the stunned look in her eyes. “That's domination, pet,” he said. He smiled slowly as her body quivered in his grasp, confirming his impression.

And that's submission.

His blue eyes seemed to pin her to the chair even as his hard hand kept her head from moving. His voice, his command, kept her silenced, and somehow, someway, her body not only let him but she was shaking inside as waves and waves of heat went through her. She stared up at him helplessly and knew if he wanted to take her, here and now, she'd let him.

He ran his finger over her lips, and she realized her mouth was open, her breathing fast. His cheek creased with his smile. And then he turned and left her sitting there in the chair, staring at him.

Chapter Six

“There are no empty cabins?” Rebecca set her hands on her hips. “Well, that's just great. What am I supposed to do?”

The after-dinner conversations had broken into increasingly hot displays. Matt sat on the couch with Ashley almost in his lap. She played with his hair, giving Rebecca a superior look.

“You could join in and have fun like the rest of us,” Matt said. “How can you know you won't like it if you don't give it a try? I know Christopher and Brandon wanted you to join them, and so did Paul and Amy.”

Ugh. “Not interested,” she said crisply. “So…” God, what was she going to do?

“Logan suggested you talk to him, and maybe he could work something out,” Matt added, then slid his hand into Ashley's low-cut blouse, his attention obviously not on the conversation.

Giving a huff of exasperation, Rebecca stalked out of the lodge. Screaming in fury might not help matters, but damn it all, hadn't she been in this same position yesterday? Sleeping on the porch swing meant risking hypothermia again, so that was out. Mouth tight, she headed down the trail. Matt used the cabin last night. Fairness dictated that she get it tonight-to herself. After all, that's why God gave locks to humankind, to keep out idiot males.

With the sun gone, the air temperature had dropped rapidly, and she shivered. In the stillness of the forest, the sounds from the lodge seemed distant as her sneakers crunched on the pine needles covering the trail. Almost there, she stopped. Heck, she'd left her art bag in the kitchen. She glanced back down the trail and shrugged. Not worth going back in the lodge again, not considering what would be going on.

At her cabin, she stepped onto the tiny porch, grabbed the doorknob, and…

Giggling came from inside the cabin. A man's laugh-Paul-and the bed started creaking in an unmistakable fashion.

Well, damn, damn, damn. She backed away rather than kicking the door like she wanted. So much for that plan. God, Matt must plan to have a foursome in there later. Ew.

She turned and went back down the trail, scuffing her feet, watching the dust glitter in the early moonlight.

She ran into a solid wall and let out a humiliating squeak.

Powerful hands gripped her arms, keeping her from falling, and she looked up into Logan's face.

“Jesus, just kill me and have it over with,” she said, putting her hand on her chest where her heart was trying to pound its way out.

“Sorry, sugar.”

“Sure you are,” she muttered. He didn't sound sorry at all, more like he was trying not to laugh, the bastard. “I needed to talk to you anyway.”

From behind Logan, Thor walked forward, an ominous-looking beast in the dim light on the trail. Rebecca stiffened, then sucked in a breath and held her hand out. Don't bite me; don't bite me.

Thor sniffed her hand, then, with his nose, nudged her hand up. Pet me.

With a choked laugh, she dropped to her knees and did just that. Furry and solid, the dog didn't want anything more from her than some affection. Within a minute, he sprawled over her knees, half in her lap, and Rebecca rubbed his chest and got an occasional tongue swiped on her chin.

“Are all dogs like this?” she asked Logan. A tiny bit of worry remained inside, and yet there was something incredibly comforting about having the big, warm body in her arms.

“Thor's one of a kind,” he said. “He doesn't trust too many people, so consider yourself honored.”

She buried her face in the soft, soft fur and sighed. “I like you too,” she whispered into one furry ear and saw his tail move in response.

“Let's get back before you freeze.” Logan offered her a hand. “Thor, out of the lap.”

The dog moved, and Rebecca let Logan pull her to her feet.

He walked beside her toward the lodge, not releasing her hand. “No place to stay for the night, I hear.”

“No.” Annoyance at Matt made her voice sharp, and yet anticipation rose within her like champagne bubbles. Logan's big hand engulfed hers in warmth as they climbed the steps to the porch. “Do you have a storage shed or something I can use?”

The light from the lodge windows highlighted the hard planes of his face. “You are going up to my quarters and to my bed.” He put a finger under her chin and lifted until her face was fully in the light. “You may say, 'Absolutely not,' right now.”

He studied her face while her mind yammered in confusion. Her body had no qualms, and heat swept through her from stem to stern. His lips quirked. “That's what I thought,” he said, as if she'd answered a question. “Come.”

After opening the lodge door, he set a hand on her lower back, pushing her forward to the private door behind the desk. He tapped a code into the keypad and steered her inside and up the stairs to his rooms. Thor slipped in before Logan closed the door. “Shoes off, Becca,” he said, removing his boots. Her sneakers looked tiny beside his.

As the dog curled up on a pile of blankets in the corner, Logan pointed to the couch. “Sit there, sugar.” The leather couch sank under her weight, trapping her in softness. She glanced around, noting the TV had been concealed behind a lush tapestry. Logan definitely liked his comforts with the cushy chairs and couch, the deeply plush rug in front of the fireplace.

When classical baroque music drifted through the room, Rebecca blinked. This hard-faced mountain guy liked Bach? After stirring the coals in the fireplace, he tossed on more kindling and a big log.

“Beer, scotch, screwdriver, or wine?” he asked.

“A screwdriver, please.” The healthy orange juice surely compensated for unhealthy alcohol, right?

He crossed the room into the kitchen silently, like a large animal, and darned if she didn't feel like prey. She edged over to the corner of the couch. Pulling her legs up to her chest, she wrapped her arms around her knees and tried to watch the fire. Didn't work. Had she gone insane?

Of course, he was gorgeous, in a rather scary Vin Diesel sort of way. And she was a healthy female…who had just refused to go to bed with any number of willing men and instead let this man lead her up here. Not that he'd really asked. But her mind kept telling her she'd gone nuts.

“That's a very defensive position.”