Page 14 of Relentless Mountain Man

He stepped closer. Just a few steps. But it closed the space between us. I didn’t want any space between us.

I stepped forward, rose on tiptoe, and placed my hands on his shoulders. “Is it weird to say I missed you? We haven’t even known each other for a full day.”

He shook his head, settling his hands at the small of my back. “I feel the same. If it’s weird, then I guess we’ll be weird together.”

He dipped his head. I lifted mine. And when his lips met mine, all the stress of the past three days melted away.

I had finally come home.

EPILOGUE

RACHEL

Our three-year-old was asleep. I checked on him before heading straight to our bedroom—the same bedroom where I first met Quinn four years ago. Four and a half, to be exact.

I would’ve never imagined that night, when he caught me in his bed, that someday I’d be sleeping in that very bed—and we’d be raising our family in this small two-bedroom cabin.

But that would change soon. I was four months pregnant, and we were already building a four-bedroom cabin farther up the mountain. The extra bedroom would be my office, but if we ever decided to have a third child, it could easily be repurposed. I’d mostly work from the screened porch off the back of the cabin, anyway.

The main bedroom door was closed—a change from how we’d kept it before we were parents. We’d gotten pregnant soon after moving in together and married a couple of months later. I wanted to be able to wear a wedding dress before I was showing.

I turned the handle and slowly pushed the door open, peeking inside. My husband was sprawled out on the bed, asleep. I could see that from here. He’d kicked off the covers, andeven in the dim light I could make out his perfect body—nude except for a pair of boxer shorts.

I looked back over my shoulder as though our son, Elias, might have crept down the hall. But he never did that. He’d slept through the night since the age of six months. I had a feeling we wouldn’t be so lucky with our second child.

I stepped into the bedroom and closed the door behind me, careful not to wake my husband. Then I stripped off the sweater and jeans I’d worn for ladies’ night. Quinn and I took turns. Once a week, he did poker night and I watched Elias, and Quinn returned the favor when I met up with the girls.

I couldn’t drink, of course, and I also couldn’t tell anyone why—but nobody asked questions. They probably speculated behind my back about the water with lemon I’d ordered, and that was fine. I’d be sharing the good news soon, anyway.

By the time I got to the edge of the bed, I was mostly naked. I wore only my panties, and I slid those down, letting them drop to my ankles. My body was ready for him. I’d been thinking about doing this since midway through dinner at the new wine bar and tapas restaurant in the next town over.

I winced as the mattress moved under my weight, but he didn’t stir. His sleep-breathing remained the same. Quinn was a heavy sleeper, just like our son. I was the opposite.

I reached over and touched him, stroking him through the thin fabric of his boxers. His cock immediately jumped to life. I kept stroking, but after a minute or so, I had to feel him. So, I parted the slit in his underwear and pulled out his cock, marveling that he’d gotten so hard, so fast.

His sleep-breathing had stopped, but he still didn’t move. Well, aside from the part of him that was pulsing against my hand. Maybe that was my imagination, though.

I gave him long, bold strokes, not taking my eyes off his face. It was dark in the room, but a small sliver of light peeked through the blinds on either side of the bed.

I hadn’t realized I’d moved my gaze to his cock until I heard his head shift on the pillow—a subtle swish. But I was so tuned in to him, it may as well have been the sound of fireworks going off.

“You’re home,” he said.

Definitely not the words I would have expected—not considering what I was doing to him. But I nodded and said, “It’s after ten.”

The wine bar was open later than that, but most of the women in our group had husbands and kids to go home to. We didn’t mind wrapping things up early.

“Pregnancy hormones again?” he asked with a smile.

He loved my pregnancy hormones. I couldn’t get enough of him. That was always the case, but when I was pregnant, I was hornier than usual. Four or five times a day wouldn’t be too much—although I’d just gone through a morning sickness phase, and that had cramped our style for a while.

“I want to try something,” I said.

It was a bucket list item. I’d been warned it probably wouldn’t be all that good, but I wanted to see. I sat up and tugged on his boxers.

“Trust me?” I asked.

“With everything I have.”

---