Page 24 of Trusting the Grumpy Mountain Man
Later, wrapped in his arms as sleep beckons, I realize what should have been a simple evaluation has become life-altering. Whatever I write in my report, whatever happens when I return to Sacramento, I am changed. By this place. By these teens. By this man who shows me there are many ways to measure success, to define safety, to create change.
"What are you thinking about so hard?" Jax murmurs against my hair.
"Everything," I admit. "My report. The program. Us."
"One thing at a time." He presses a kiss to my temple. "Report first. The rest will follow."
His assurance eases my mind. I fall asleep wondering how I'll explain in my report that sometimes breaking the rules leads to exactly where you need to be.
CHAPTER SEVEN
JAX
Morning light filters through the cabin windows, casting golden patterns across Riley's sleeping face. I've been awake for an hour, just watching her. The steady rise and fall of her chest. The way her hair spills across my pillow like spilled ink. The slight part of her lips as she breathes.
I should be up already. The kids will need direction for the day's activities. Mason is coming for their academic session. There's a supply run to town I need to make.
But I can't bring myself to leave this bed. To leave her.
Last night changed something fundamental between us. Taking her innocence carries a weight I didn't anticipate. Not guilt. Responsibility. She gave me something precious, irreplaceable. The trust behind that gift floors me.
She stirs, eyelids fluttering before opening to reveal those warm brown eyes that see too much. For a moment, confusion clouds her face. Then recognition dawns, followed by a smile that hits me square in the chest.
"Morning," she murmurs, voice husky with sleep.
"Morning." I brush a strand of hair from her face, marveling at its silken texture. "Sleep okay?"
"Better than okay." She stretches, the sheet slipping to reveal the curve of her breast. "What time is it?"
"Early. Not quite seven."
"Shouldn't you be running your program?" She props herself up on one elbow, suddenly concerned. "The teens must be waiting."
"Jesse knows morning protocol. They're fine." I trace the line of her collarbone with one finger. "I wanted to be here when you woke up."
A blush colors her cheeks. "That's... thoughtful."
"Selfish," I correct her. "I wanted to see that look on your face when you remembered where you were. Who you were with."
Her blush deepens, but she doesn't look away. "And what look was that?"
"Satisfaction." I cup her cheek. "Suits you."
She leans into my touch, eyes drifting closed momentarily. When they open again, there's a vulnerability there that makes my chest tight.
"No regrets?" I ask, needing to hear it.
"None." She covers my hand with her own. "You?"
"Only that it took three days to get here." I lean in to press my lips to hers, a gentle good morning kiss that quickly deepens into something more urgent.
Her arms wrap around my neck, body arching toward mine with newfound confidence. Last night's hesitancy has evolved into enthusiastic participation. She learns quickly, my Riley, in this as in everything.
When we finally break apart, breathing hard, I rest my forehead against hers. "We keep this up, we won't leave this cabin all day."
"Would that be so terrible?" Her hands trace patterns on my chest, exploring with innocent curiosity that drives me wild.
"The kids would notice." I capture her wandering hands, pressing a kiss to each palm. "And you have a report to write."
