Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27018 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27018 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
“I don’t want any complications for you or your family though,” she says, her voice softening as her gaze drops to the ground between us.
“Hey,” I say gently, tipping her chin up until our eyes meet again. My voice lowers, heavy with emotion. “You’ve already become a complication. When you ran out on me this morning, a thousand thoughts ran through my head, but two stuck: making sure you were safe and that we’re okay. I’d beat myself up if I thought I hurt you in any way.”
She shakes her head slowly, sighing before she whispers, “You were perfect. It wasn’t you—it’s me.”
The words hit me hard, like a crack in my chest. She’s offering me an out, like she thinks she’s not worth the complication. But the truth is, she’s worth every damn one.
“Listen here, Little Bird,” I say, cupping her cheek with one hand while the other slides under the scarf, uncoiling it from her neck. I pull it through my fingers, inhaling her scent, heady and addictive, before continuing, “You’re perfect for me. You chase away my complications with your laugh, your smile, and the way you radiate warmth like an angel sent from Heaven.”
I loop the scarf back around her neck, using it to pull her closer. I kiss her, slow and sensual, filled with a promise I want to make real every day.
“And this classy, dressed up side of you?” I murmur against her lips, referring to the scarf around her neck. “This gorgeous body all wrapped up like a present, waiting for me to unwrap it… I fucking love it.”
“I borrowed a scarf from the lodge,” she confesses breathlessly, “because you left marks on my neck last night.”
The possessiveness surges through me, making my cock harden instantly.
“Mm, my mark on your pretty pink skin makes me hot,” I growl, my mouth descending on hers again.
We kiss for long, fevered minutes, and she clings to me, her little fingers digging into my waist. Her soft body sways against my hard one. Right now, all I want to play with is her.
“We should get back…” she mumbles finally, her voice thick and reluctant.
I kiss her one last time, walking her backward down the trail. I give her a crooked grin, my thumb tracing the curve of her cheekbone. “Whatever you say, babe.”
She’s already walking ahead of me as I trail the scarf from her neck, inhaling her scent deeply.
“I’m keeping this,” I call after her.
Her eyes widen when she turns, a sweet giggle falling from her lips. With a groan, I palm my aching dick, the memory of her hands and lips on me driving me wild. I feel the softness of the scarf against my skin as I stroke my cock through my pants, my eyes closed, reliving every moment with her—her lips trailing down my abs, her fingers digging into my shoulders, her tight, wet heat wrapping around me as I thrust deep inside her.
I groan, my voice a low, desperate growl as I press harder, my release buzzing in the base of my balls. The thought of waking up next to her every morning almost drives me to the edge. She’s everything I never knew I needed, and I want to make her mine in every possible way.
My breath is ragged as we walk back to the lodge, and my heart pounds as her hips sway with each step, her soft hair whispering on the breeze. She’s not just a complication—she’s my biggest challenge, my most urgent desire. And I plan on keeping her. I speed up a few strides, locking my hand in hers as we walk, my heart lighter than it’s been in a long time.
“You’re doing a helluva number on me, Little Bird,” I say, my voice filled with a mixture of relief and determination. “I can’t wait to get you home.”
Lark hesitates, her gaze lingering on the river. But then she nods, her lips curving into a small, genuine smile. “I had no idea mountain men could be so charming.”
I laugh loudly, feeling like a cloud has lifted for the first time in days.
Chapter Ten
Lark—two weeks later
The smell of smoked barbecue and pine needles mingles in the cool mountain air as I cradle Slate and Emma’s newborn son against my chest. The warmth of his small body seeps through my sweater, and his soft coos are like a balm to my anxious heart. I glance around at the Warner family potluck—laughter ringing out, kids chasing each other, and the brothers’ booming voices rising above the cheerful chaos. It’s everything I never thought I’d have: family, laughter, love.
I run my fingers gently over the baby’s tiny hand, feeling an unexpected sting of tears. I blink rapidly, overwhelmed by a mix of joy and disbelief. How did I end up here? I’ve spent most of my life on the outside looking in, but now I’m here, surrounded by warmth and acceptance. It’s hard to believe it’s real.