“You don’t need a chance,” he rasped.
He unfastened his pants and pulled his cock free. He didn’t play. He didn’t tease. He grabbed my hips, his fingers digging into my curves, and lifted me high. I gasped as he drove into me in one deep thrust.
“Whose are you, Frankie?” he grunted, his pace becoming a brutal, rhythmic pounding. His hand slid up to wrap lightly around my throat—not squeezing, just holding, claiming. “Tellme. Whose pussy is this? Whose body have I been waking up to every morning?”
“Yours,” I screamed into the open mountain air. “My pussy is yours. My body is yours. I’m yours, Max. Always.”
“Damn right you are.” His grip tightened fractionally. “Mine to touch. Mine to fuck.”
And every thrust was a claim, a promise to me. That I was his, and he was mine.
When I finally shattered, my climax left me sobbing his name. Max followed me over the edge a second later, his body shuddering as he poured himself into me, his roar echoing through the pines.
He didn’t pull away. He stayed there, holding me against the house, his heart beating fast and hard against mine.
“You know,” I said when I could finally breathe again, “normal people have sex in beds.”
“We’re not normal people.” He kissed me, fast and hard. “And I like you right here. Against my house. On my mountain. Mine.”
“So possessive,” I teased, though my heart was doing that slow, heavy thud it always did when he got like this.
“Only about you.” He finally lowered me to my feet, though his hands stayed on my hips, keeping me steady. “Come on. I’ll feed you breakfast before I take you back to bed and do that all over again.”
I laughed, following him inside, my legs still shaky. “Is this what my life is now? Sex and breakfast on repeat?”
“Pretty much.” He pulled me into the kitchen, settling me on the counter while he moved to the stove. “Unless you want to go back to town. Back to the hardware store.”
I’d quit my job months ago. Max had made it clear he wanted me here, with him. My boss had hired someone newwithin a week and I’d packed up my small apartment without a second thought.
“Are you kidding?” I watched him crack eggs into a pan, still shirtless, still magnificent. “And miss this view? Not a chance.”
He glanced over his shoulder, a rare smile crossing his face. “Good. Because I’m not letting you go, Frankie. Ever.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.” He turned the heat off under the eggs and walked back to me, settling between my thighs. “You saved me, you know that?”
“I’m pretty sure you saved me first,” I said softly. “I was stuck behind that counter, dreaming about a life I thought I’d never have. And then you walked in every Thursday like clockwork, and I started dreaming about you instead.”
“I knew the first time I saw you,” he said, his hands framing my face. “I knew you were going to change everything.” He kissed me again, slower this time, deeper. “Marry me, Frankie.”
I pulled back, my eyes wide. “What?”
“Marry me.” He said it simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I don’t have a ring yet. I was going to wait, do it properly, but I can’t. I need you to know that this isn’t temporary. This isn’t just living together. I want you as my wife.”
My throat went tight. “Max—”
“I love you,” he said. “I want to marry you. I want to wake up next to you for the rest of my life. So, what do you say? Will you marry the grumpy mountain man?”
Tears were streaming down my face now, hot and fast. “Yes,” I choked out. “Yes, you possessive, perfect man. I’ll marry you.”
Six months ago, I’d been a hardware store clerk with a crush on a customer. Now I was engaged to that man, living on his mountain, building a life I’d never dared to dream of.
And it all started with one impulsive kiss and a fake wedding date.
Best idea my crazy self had ever had.
EPILOGUE
