Page 20 of My Forbidden Mountain Man

“I still found ways to watch. Jaclyn never gave a damn, so I…I needed to be there. Even if it was just through some shitty livestream or recording, that’s how it started. I wanted to giveyou my support. Then one night, mysupportturned into an excuse. Something I wanted to do suddenly turned into a need.”

His words hit like a physical touch, skimming down my spine. He keeps talking—halting, stumbling—painting me in compliments that feel like worship. My ink, the way I wear my hair now, how my body filled out in all the right places.

Each admission spills out like a confession dragged from his chest, his voice growing rougher with every fractured sentence. From telling me about how his support morphed into something more forbidden and frowned upon.

He’s almost two decades older than I am. Even if I was an adult at the time, our relationship made things complicated. His addiction grew even more after the divorce, his shackles free.

Logan has wanted me for years, and I haven’t had the slightest clue. And now, he’s making it seem like a curse more than a blessing.

He presses the heels of his hands against his closed eyes. “This is—I know it’s wrong. Ruined the mood, didn’t I?”

Ruined it?

My pulse hammers everywhere at once. He’s still hard against my thigh, heat radiating through his jeans, and I just had him—the man who has haunted my dreams ever since I found him in such a rough state—unraveling over me like I’m something precious.

I reach for his wrist, pulling his hand away from his face.

“The only thing you’re ruining,” I say, thumb stroking his racing pulse, “is my ability to think straight.”

He blinks once before his throat bobs. “You mean that?”

“Every word. Seriously.” Dragging my hand away from his wrist, I listen to his hiss as my fingertips graze the tip of his weeping head. “You’re not the only one who’s bad. When you first opened your door, those first ten seconds? I wanted this. Iwanted itbadly. Every second I spent with you, I wanted your hands on me. You think that’s normal?”

My admission makes him crack a smile. “I used to look better.”

A click of my tongue echoes between us as I shiver, dragging the thick length of him against my slick, aching folds. The friction sends a jolt of pleasure through me, and we both groan—a ragged, shared sound that vibrates in the charged air between us.

“I’ve got a thing for the wild look,” I murmur, my voice husky with want. “Very caveman-like. Like you want to pin me against whatever surface is near and give in to your wild side.”

The words hang between us, thick with implication, and his lips curl into a wicked grin that mirrors mine. Before I can tease him further, he brushes my hand aside, taking control with a possessive growl. His fingers dig into my hip, anchoring me to him as his other hand guides his cock deeper.

“Violet,” he rasps, his voice rough with restraint, “I do want to do that. A lot.”

A hoarse chuckle escapes him, but it’s short-lived—his brows knit together, his jaw tightening as he fights for control. The veins in his arms stand out as he begins to sink into me, inch by torturous inch.

“Every day I’ve spent with you has been torture, holding myself back. I wanted to wait until you wanted me as much as I wanted you.” His hips snap forward, seating himself fully inside me, and my back arches with a gasp. “If I’d known you’d wanted me as soon as you showed up…”

The rest of his words dissolve into a groan as his mouth crashes against my throat, teeth scraping over my pulse point. I whimper, my nails biting into his shoulders as he sucks hard, marking me.

The sharp sting melts into liquid heat, and my hips roll instinctively, seeking more—more friction, more of his touch, more of him. His thrusts grow relentless, each one driving me closer to the edge, and I can feel the possessive rumble in his chest as he murmurs his claim against my skin.

Then his grip shifts—one hand slides down, fingers digging into the back of my knee as he hitches my leg higher, lifting me with effortless strength. The angle changes, and when he drives into me again, it’s deeper, harder, stealing the breath from my lungs.

“Fuck—” His curse is rough, ragged, as his pelvis grinds against mine, the deliberate roll of his hips dragging his length against every sensitive inch inside me. The pressure is maddening, his body working in slow, deliberate circles now, the base of him rubbing against my clit with every thrust.

The sound of skin on skin is obscene—wet, slick slaps, the creak of the bed beneath us, the ragged hitch of our breaths mingling in the air. Sweat glistens on his chest, on the tense lines of his abdomen, and I can feel it between us, hot and slick, as our bodies move together.

“You feel that? Every fucking inch of you takes me so well—” He growls out the words, his voice raw with need.

Sothisis what he’s like when he loses control? Sign me up for seconds. No,thirds.

His fingers tighten on my thigh, holding me open as he fucks into me with slow, deep strokes, teasing me by dragging out the tug and pull of my sensitive nerves.

“I want you to come like this, with me buried inside you, feeling every pulse of you around me.” Panting the demand, he punctuates his words with each thrust.

Gasping, heat floods my system with every word he speaks. I don’t think I’ve ever been with a partner who has told me whathe wanted like this. Logandemandsit, making the experience so much hotter.

The coil inside me winds tighter, pleasure sparking white-hot with every deliberate drag of his body against mine. My vision blurs at the edges, stars bursting behind my eyelids as the pressure builds, as his rhythm turns punishing, relentless—

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