Page 9 of Her Grumpy Mountain Man

I slide a hand between our bodies, my thumb finding her clit as I rub it in fast circles, needing her to come fast this first time. “Yes.” She moans, her body tightening beneath me as she throws her head against the pillow as she milks my cock dry.

“That’s it, Ava—come for me.” I thrust into her faster and deeper until I’m shouting her name a few seconds later, emptying myself inside her.

After our bodies stop shaking, I roll onto my back, pull Ava next to me, and tuck the quilt higher over her shoulder. Her hair tickles my chin, and I smooth it back as she rests her hand over my heart.

“Comfortable?” I press a kiss to her forehead.

“Very.” She slides one foot against mine under the blanket.

I glance toward the fireplace—the screen is in place, and the last log burns low behind it. Then I look at the woman in my arms. I’ll need to think about tomorrow—about the assignment and how to handle it now that everything between us has changed. But for tonight, she’s warm and safe beside me. I feel her fall asleep before I do, her breathing deepening as I hold her. I rest my cheek against her hair and close my eyes. When sleep finally comes, my arm stays around her—where I plan to keep it every night for the rest of our lives.

six

Ava

The knock works its way into a dream before I recognize it and for a moment, I think someone is dropping firewood outside. Then it comes again, three firm taps, and the chest beneath my cheek goes still.

I lift my head as Maddox raises his, and we look toward the door. The fire has burned down to embers behind the screen, and pale morning light spills across the blankets. His arm stays around me until the knock sounds a third time.

“Stay here.” He briefly presses his hand against my back before sitting up.

Cold air slips beneath the quilt. I pull it to my chin as he gathers another blanket and wraps it around his waist. He holds the folded edge at his hip, checks that I’m covered, then crosses to the window beside the door.

Watching him move through the cabin brings last night back in pieces. His face close to mine. Our nervous laughter. The way he held me afterward, letting me settle against him without loosening his arms. I want to wake up like that again—preferably without anyone knocking.

“It’s Jude.” Maddox looks back at me. “Kat’s with him.”

My gaze drops to the clothes scattered beside the couch. My sweater is under Maddox’s jeans. I can’t find anything else right away, and I’m not about to search while our visitors wait on the porch. Then I spot the shirt on the kitchen table—Maddox left it there last night after bringing in the last armful of wood.

I gather the quilt around me and hurry across the cabin. The shirt is soft and comfortably roomy. I slip it over my head, let the quilt fall onto a chair, then tug the hem down over my thighs.

Seven stick figures stretch across the front. Six hold the hands of other stick figures. The seventh stands beside a question mark. Considering what happened last night, the question mark seems a little unnecessary.

Maddox glances at the shirt, then at my bare legs before opening the front door.

Jude stands on the porch with one hand raised, apparently preparing to knock again. Kat is beside him, zipped into a jacket, her hair blowing across her cheek. Jude lowers his hand, looks at Maddox’s blanket, then looks past him at me. A grin spreads across his face.

“Well.” He plants his hands on his hips. “I see we’re interrupting.”

“You’re letting the heat out.” Maddox steps aside.

Kat comes in first, her eyes scanning the shirt and the blankets by the fireplace. “Morning.” She squeezes my arm as she passes by.

“Morning.” I fold my hands in front of me, suddenly unsure what to do with them.

Jude steps inside, still grinning as Maddox closes the door behind him.

“We have news.” Kat turns toward me—something in her voice makes my smile vanish.

Maddox notices and comes to stand beside me, close enough that his arm brushes my shoulder. “Gerald?” His hand settles at my back.

Kat nods. “He’s been arrested.” She watches my face. “He’s in custody, Ava.”

I stare at her. For days, his name has meant checking over my shoulder, a car slowing behind me, and the fear of footsteps when I’m alone.

“He’s really been arrested?” I grip the shirt hem.

“Really.” She gives my arm another gentle squeeze.