Page 16 of My Protective Mountain Man

I nod, words caught somewhere between my heart and throat.

I should be terrified. Martin could ruin me. Fire me. Blackball me from every project in the state. And yet… I’ve never felt safer.

He came for me.

And he’s standing in a boardroom full of sharks, unafraid, demanding that I be treated with the respect I never could articulate that I deserved.

I run to him, but Martin grabs my arm. “Everest!”

Martin recovers enough to laugh—too loud, too fake. He moves me behind him, placing himself between Everest and I. “Everest Smith! I’m so glad you could come down. We’ve been meaning to discuss a business proposition. If you could wait?—”

I can see the fury building in Everest’s face. Martin has touched me again. Specifically going against his earlier commands.

“You’re not to speak my name. You’re not to address me. Hell, you aren’t even allowed to look at me.” He says to Martin as he towers over him with his fists clenched. “And as of now, you may no longer speak her name as well. This is your last warning. If I see you lay a hand on Sierra again, I will crush your fingers beyond recognition. You will be lucky if you can wipe your sorry ass with the stump I leave behind.”

Everest points to me and beckons me to come to him. Martin wipes the look of confusion off his face and painfully attempts to recover. “She works for me.”

“Not anymore,” Everest says.

The clients look between us, clearly unsure of what’s happening.

“Everest,” I finally say, voice trembling, “what are you doing here?”

He looks at me, and his expression softens. “I came to take you home.”

For a moment, the world spins. I can barely breathe.

Then he moves—quick, purposeful steps across the room like he belongs here more than any of these suits ever could. His presence commands the space, but all I see is the fire in his eyes as they lock on mine. Fire and something else.

Something I don’t deserve, but desperately want.

Before I can even catch my breath, he’s in front of me, his arms wrapping around me, pulling me into the strength of his body like I was made to fit there. I melt into him, instinct taking over, every inch of me drawn to his heat, his scent, the rhythm of his chest as it rises and falls.

He’s holding me in his arms just like he did the first day we met. Saving me then, and saving me now. My heart is pounding so loud I swear the whole room can hear it.

He leans close, his breath warm against my ear. “I was a fool to let you walk out of my cabin,” he murmurs, voice thick with regret. “But it’s never going to happen again.”

My breath catches, but before I can speak, his hands move—firm, reverent—cradling my face like I’m the most precious thing he’s ever touched.

Then his mouth finds mine.

The kiss is not polite. Not hesitant. It’s fierce. Hungry. A collision of pain and longing and… tender.

I gasp against him, and he deepens the kiss, like he’s claiming me. And I want to be claimed.

Maybe I’ve always wanted that—someone to see past the mask, past the polished smiles and professional armor. Someone who sees the woman beneath it all and wants her anyway.

My fingers twist in his shirt, anchoring myself, holding tight to him like he’s the only solid thing in a world that’s been spinning too fast.

He finally breaks the kiss, just an inch between us, his forehead pressed against mine. His eyes search mine, and what I see there undoes me.

“You’re mine, Sierra,” he says, low and fierce, like a vow. “And I don’t care who’s watching.”

I tremble—not with fear, but with something like release. Like every wall I’ve built around myself has finally cracked and let the light in.

I don’t even glance at Martin. I don’t need to. I don’t care what the clients think. I don’t care about the job, the meeting, or the consequences.

Because this—he—is real. And for the first time, I’m choosing real over what’s expected.

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