“The coffee’s hot,” he rumbled.
Three words. The man had ruined me with his hands and his mouth and various other parts of himself for the better part of the night, and his morning-after opening was that?
His hair was a mess, his jaw was shadowed with stubble, and his green eyes were dark with a look I couldn’t quite decipher. I felt exposed. My hair was a wild tangle and my lips felt swollen and bruised from his kisses.
“I should go get dressed for work.” The words came out in a nervous rush. I shifted my weight, feeling the dampness between my legs—a lingering reminder of how much he’d filled me. “We... you... should probably go check the greenhouse. See what else the storm did.”
I started to back away, my heart hammering against my ribs. I needed to get back to my cabin, back to the safety of my own space before he could tell me to leave.
“The greenhouse isn’t going anywhere. And neither are you.”
Before I could even blink, he crossed the kitchen in three long strides. He didn’t stop until I was backed up against the wall. Trapped. His presence was an overwhelming weight, thick with possessiveness.
He slid his hand down my side, his large, calloused palm grazing my ribs before settling on the curve of my hip. He didn’t stop there. His hand moved lower, his fingers disappearing under the hem of the flannel shirt to find the soft flesh of my thighs.
I gasped, my knees going weak as he cupped the wet heat between my legs. His thumbs brushed the tops of my pussy lips, discovering exactly how ready I was for him. I was already slick, my body crying out for the friction only he could provide.
“You’re still full of my come, Poppy,” he whispered, one finger thrusting inside me. “I spent all night inside you. I claimed every inch of this beautiful, curvy body. You think I’m letting you go back across the yard like we’re just neighbors?”
“Cord, I’m just the help,” I managed to say, though my fingers were already digging into the hard muscles of his shoulders, pulling him closer.
“I didn’t hire you for this,” he interrupted, his hand sliding up to cup one of my breasts. He squeezed the soft mound, his thumb raking over the nipple through the flannel until I whimpered, my head falling back against the wall. “I didn’t know I needed you until you showed up and started bossing me around. You’re mine, Poppy.”
He leaned down, his mouth brushing mine, tasting of coffee and male hunger. All my life, my time, me, had belonged to someone else. Now, being someone’s—someone’s chosen—was most wonderful feeling in the world.
“You’re staying. I’m moving your things up here today. I want to wake up with your pussy wrapped around me every morning. I want to spend my nights worshipping every curve you have until you forget you ever lived anywhere else.”
My heart felt like it was going to burst. No one had ever wanted me like this. Not as a caretaker, not as a convenience, but as a prize.
“You’re not asking,” I noted, a small, flirty smile finally breaking through my nerves. “You’re telling.”
“I don’t ask for what belongs to me,” he rasped, his teeth grazing my lower lip in a way that made my toes curl. “And make no mistake, Poppy. You belong on this mountain. With me.”
Before I could answer, he hoisted me up. I let out a squeal of surprise that turned into a moan as my legs immediately wrapped around his waist. He started walking back toward the bedroom, his stride certain and powerful. The plants, the broken greenhouse, and the rest of the world felt a million miles away. All that mattered was the man holding me and the heat between us that refused to die down.
“Say it,” he commanded, his hand sliding down to my bottom, squeezing the soft, generous flesh. “Tell me you’re staying.”
The dread was gone, replaced by a fierce, burning certainty. “I’m staying, Cord. I’m yours.”
He didn’t need to hear anything else. He kicked the bedroom door shut. As he tossed me back onto the rumpled sheets, I knew I’d finally found exactly where I was meant to be.
EPILOGUE
Cord
I thought I knew every inch of silence on this mountain, but the silence had changed. It wasn’t empty anymore. It was full of the sound of Poppy’s soft, rhythmic breathing and the way she sighed in her sleep when she tucked her curvy body against mine.
I lay beside her, propped up on one elbow, watching the dawn light filter through the cedar branches outside the window. I had things to do—important things—but staying here, next to her, if just for another minute was the most important thing.
She shifted, her eyes fluttering open.
“Well, hello, mountain man.” Her dark eyes were still slumbrous with sleep, but there was mischief in those dark depths. Her hand slid under the cover, her small, warm palm finding my cock. It was already semi-hard just by being beside her, but the second her fingers wrapped around the base, I went rock-solid.
“Why don’t we stay in bed for a little while longer, bossman?” She sat up, the sheets falling away to reveal her heavy, perfect breasts. She leaned down, pressing a kiss on my collarbone, her hair brushing against my stomach. She kissed her way slowly down my chest, even as her hand started to pump me, slow and deliberate. “I’ll make it worth your time.”
She leaned lower, her breath hot against the head of my dick, her lips parting as if she were about to take me into her mouth right then and there.
Every instinct I had told me to bury my hands in her hair and push her toward my rigid length. Let her pleasure me before I buried my face between her legs. But I had three months of secret work waiting for her at the top of the ridge, and the sun was hitting its peak.
