Page 11 of Mountain Man's Mail Order Mix-Up
Soon, I wasn’t thinking about the pain. Only the pleasure. The heat rose in my body, starting in my midsection and rising all the way up to my face. His gaze lowered to my breasts, and I knew he was watching, probably mesmerized by the way they moved with each of his thrusts. I couldn’t wait to ride him. I’d be on top, brazenly touching myself as he lay beneath me.
And then I was coming, and once again, every cell in my body seemed electrified. My pussy clenched around his cock in a way that I knew made it tough for him to hold out. But my orgasm would probably serve as a green light to him.
Sure enough, even before I’d come down, he moaned, his eyes closed as he moved faster and faster, still careful not to go too deep but getting himself there all the same. Then he cried out, his hands clenching my thighs a little tighter, his other hand sliding away from my clit.
It was the sexiest sight imaginable—my man, in the throes of orgasm. A sight I had a feeling I’d get used to over the coming years. Because this was definitely not just the first time, but the first of many.
Finally, he opened his eyes again and looked at me. “You okay?”
“Never been better.” I frowned. “But I feel bad.”
Worry marred his features. The last thing I wanted to do was worry him.
“I need to tell Bobbi I can’t marry Reilly,” I rushed to say.
He nodded, brushing a thumb over my thigh. “We’ll go talk to her together.”
A little rush of relief moved through me. I wasn’t alone in this. I wasn’t walking back into that lodge with trembling legs and a guilty conscience while he stayed here, pretending none of this happened. I was walking in with him.
He stood first and helped me down from the desk, brushing his hands down my sides like he couldn’t stop touching me. I didn’t want him to stop.
“We’ll go now,” he said. “We’ll tell Bobbi the truth, then…”
I looked up at him. “Then?”
“Then you go back to my place.” His voice dipped low, promise laced in every word. “I’ll finish up the dinner shift here and when I come home to you, we’ll do this all over again.”
“Perfect,” I whispered.
He kissed me again—quick, deep, and full of heat—before leading me out of the office. And just like that, we stepped into the next chapter of our lives together.
EPILOGUE
MACKENZIE
There was something about Wildwood Valley weddings that got me every time. Maybe it was the mountain backdrop. Maybe it was the fact that everyone in town somehow knew the bride’s middle name and the groom’s favorite kind of pie. Or maybe it’s just that the last few years had made me soft.
I was seated near the back row of the Wildwood Valley Wedding Chapel, right between two of the newer brides who’d arrived in recent months—each with that starry, swept-away look in their eyes I knew so well. I didn’t say much, just smiled, kept a hand on my round belly, and watched as the couple at the altar sealed it with a kiss.
The bride looked radiant, and the groom looked stunned in that I-can’t-believe-she’s-mine kind of way. And the way the whole town had shown up? Even old man Coulter from the feed store had traded his overalls for slacks.
But the most interesting part? It wasn’t just who was getting married. It was how they ended up together. That was a fun, interesting story—even more interesting than the story of theway West and I met more than four years ago, and that was saying a lot.
When everyone stood to file out, I caught sight of West standing tall with the other groomsmen. He spotted me right away, winked, then held out a hand like he always did. Like he still did, every single day.
We didn’t rush to leave. We walked out last, hand in hand, behind the crowd and the chaos and the laughter.
“They looked happy,” he said, his voice low, just for me.
“They did.”
Our two-year-old daughter was staying with West’s sister, who’d moved back to town to help run the diner. That gave us an afternoon to spend time with our friends. With our son set to arrive any day now, time to ourselves was in short supply.
West glanced down at me, his fingers lacing through mine. “Can you believe this is our life now?”
I laughed softly. “Sometimes I wake up and expect to still be living out of a suitcase. But yeah…I believe it.”
The chapel stood just across the gravel road, sunlight hitting the stained-glass windows in a way that always made it look like a storybook. It was a church on Sundays, but the rest of the week, it was used as an event venue and wedding chapel. I’d been hired as the events coordinator, and it was the best job imaginable. I even had a little office in back where I could schedule ceremonies while our daughter napped in the playpen.
