Page 62 of Grumpy on the Mountain
She's so tight. So perfect.
"God, look at you," I growl, pulling back just to watch myself slide back in. "Look how perfectly you take me."
"Oh God," she gasps, her nails digging into my shoulders.
"Too much?" I ask, freezing despite every instinct telling me to drive forward. To sink deeper, to plant my seed and lay claim to this woman forever.
"No," she pants. "Don't stop. Please don't stop."
"I'll never stop. Not for you, baby."
And I mean those words to the deepest, darkest depths of my soul.Never stop. Not just about this moment—about everything.
I once resigned myself to isolation, convinced I'd die alone on this mountain. Determined to. After what I'd seen, what I'd done, I was sure I didn't deserve more than a lonely life that's haunted by my past.
But now she's here, staring at me with those incredible eyes… Like I'm her salvation instead of her ruin.
And I know with bone-deep certainty that I'd burn down the world for Molly Jennings. I'd build her a thousand homes. I'd face every demon—even Riley, my own flesh and blood—to keep her.
I'll never stop fighting for her. And if anyone ever gets in the way of us, may God have mercy on them.
I push deeper, inch by agonizing inch, until I'm buried completely inside her. For a moment, we just stay like that, connected in the most intimate way possible, breathing hard and staring into each other's eyes.
Home.
The thought hits me with stunning clarity.
This is home.
Not the cabin I built, not the mountain I claimed for eternal solitude, but this.Her. This moment where we're so connected I can't tell where I end and she begins.
I'm fucking home.
"I love you, Molly," I say, the words ripping from my chest like they've been waiting my whole life to be spoken. "I've always loved you."
Her eyes fill with tears, but she's smiling.
That's when I start to move, slow and deep, watching her face for every reaction. She feels incredible around me, tight and wet and perfect, and when she wraps her legs around my waist, pulling me deeper, I have to bite back a groan.
"Mine," I growl against her throat, marking her with my teeth. "You're mine now."
"Yes," she gasps, meeting my thrusts. "Always yours."
I lose track of time after that. There's nothing but the sound of skin against skin, her soft cries, the way she says my name like a prayer. When she comes again, clenching around me, I follow her over the edge, her name torn from my lips as I empty myself inside her.
We collapse together, breathing hard, slick with sweat and completely spent. She curls against my chest, her head on my shoulder, and I wrap my arms around her like I'm never letting go.
Because I'm not.
She traces patterns on my chest with her fingertip, and I catch her hand, pressing it flat against my heart.
"Feel that?" I ask.
She nods.
"That's what you do to me. What you've always done to me."
She tilts her head up to look at me, and her smile is soft and sleepy and so beautiful it makes my chest tight.
