Page 5 of Forbidden Mountain Man

“He went and found the cutest, sweetest woman to marry. Well, at least I assume the proposal and wedding will be coming soon. The way he looks at her…” Fiona sighs dreamily. “There’s no denying he’s in love.”

“Oh, how wonderful!” My mother claps her hands and the two of them giggle in excitement. I’m sure I’ll be getting another lecture about how I need to find someone and settle down.

I peek out into the living room, my eyes immediately drawn to Fiona and her full lips as they pull into a smile. My eyes wander down her body, following the slope of her neck, her ample breasts, and her slightly rounded stomach. God, her thighs. An image of her thick legs wrapped around my hips as I thrust deep inside of her takes over my mind, blinding me to anything else.

“Is that you eavesdropping?” my mom calls out to me. She winks as the tips of my ears turn red.

“Just letting you know breakfast is served,” I reply with a smile.

Fiona hops up off the recliner she was in, immediately turning toward my mother with her hands on her hips. “I’m getting your breakfast for you,” she informs her. “You’re still in bed rest mode.”

I grin at Fiona’s sass and strength, though I know her confidence took a hit last night. At least she can be herself around my mother. I hope I’m a comforting presence as well.

I step aside as Fiona joins me in the kitchen. “Thanks so much for cooking, Forest. It’s a real treat.” She smiles up at me, those wide green eyes peering into my very soul.

Blinking a few times, I try to regain some control over my thoughts and words. “Jett never was much of a chef,” I manage to say, making Fiona roll her eyes.

“You can say that again,” she deadpans. “Remember when he tried making pizza and forgot to set a timer?”

“The fire department wasn’t too thrilled to be called over for a scorched pizza,” I reply with a grin.

“That’s when I offered to take over meals for us. Samantha taught me some of her easy go-to recipes to get me started. She was a real life-saver in those days.”

I nod and reach out for her hand, hardly even aware I’m doing it. Our fingers lace together and she gasps softly before looking up at me. “We’re both here for you, Fiona,” I whisper. “Whatever you need, just let us know.”

She blinks a few times, her eyebrows furrowing the longer she looks up at me. My fingers itch to comb through her hair, cup the back of her neck, and pull her into me for a taste of her tempting lips.

Stop it, goddamnit, I tell myself. It’s so inappropriate for me to be having these thoughts. Not only is she Jett’s younger sister, but she’s just been through something traumatic. The last thing she needs is someone hitting on her or making her uncomfortable.

When her hand tightens around mine, however, I get the fleeting thought that maybe, just maybe, she’s feeling this, too.

“Thank you,” comes her quiet response. “I… I don’t know what I would have done without you last night. I was foolish to have gone out.”

"Fiona," I whisper, lifting our entwined hands up to my lips and pressing a kiss onto her knuckles. I know it's too far, too intimate, but I can't seem to stop myself. "Nothing that happened last night was your fault. You know that, right? From your friends leaving to those vile bastards who dared to intimidate you and lay their grimy hands all over your precious body…"

I stop when Fiona gasps, just realizing what I said.Such a creeper. I shouldn’t have said anything about her body. What an idiot.

“Those pancakes are getting colder by the second!” my mother calls out, breaking the tension of the moment.

Fiona laughs while I roll my eyes. “Coming right up, Samantha! Do you like butter and syrup on your cakes?”

“Just syrup, but plenty of it,” she replies. “If you think it’s too much, it’s not.”

Fiona places three pancakes on a plate and douses them in maple syrup. I watch as she makes her own plate, taking note of how she likes her pancakes. She's familiar enough with the kitchen to grab the peanut butter out of the cupboard next to the fridge. She layers her cakes with a thin spread of peanut butter along with a dot of syrup, then stacks another one on top and does the same thing.

I help her carry the plates back into the living room, then go into the kitchen and make my own plate of food. Something about this moment feels… right. I’m settled and content in a way I didn’t know I was missing.

Two hours later, we're done with breakfast and I have the kitchen all cleaned up with the dishes washed, dried, and put away. Fiona went back to the guest bedroom she's staying in toget some studying done. She told us earlier that this upcoming week is her final exams.

I’ve been catching up on a few emails and specifying details on several custom furniture pieces I have in the works while Fiona studies and my mom sleeps on the couch. My mind keeps wandering to Fiona and how much she’s grown up. I mean, obviously. That’s how time works. But damn. Time has been good to her.

I can’t get over her thick, curvy body. I never knew I had a type until I saw Fiona standing by the curb, as shaken up as she was. It’s more than just her ample curves and magical eyes. It’s the sound of her laugh, the fact that she can laugh or smile at all after her experience last night. It’s something so much deeper than I’ve ever felt, and I won’t lie; it’s terrifying. It’s also undeniable.

“Thinking about your girl?” my mother asks before yawning.

“She’s not my girl,” I reply, though I know I just proved her point.

“Mmhm, not yet anyway.”

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