Page 108 of Mountain Protector

My heart.

“Oh, Knox. Me too.”

EPILOGUE

2 MonthsLater

KNOX

I’ll never get tired of counting her freckles.

Lark told me she used to hate them as a kid. How frustrated she’d get when her friends would tan in the sun and all she’d do was freckle. That she wished for smooth, golden skin like mine.

But I disagree. I think her freckles are perfect. Just like she is.

And there’s nothing I like better than trying to kiss all of them. In bed, in the shower, or on the kitchen island, with Lark spread out like the most precious offering, gazing up at me with so much desire and love in her eyes.

I love waking up in the morning and looking over at my gorgeous girlfriend, her delicate features relaxed as she sleeps, her fiery hair spilling across the pillow, one small hand resting just above my heart. Often, she’smaking that little snuffly sound, the one she insists is embarrassing but I think is adorable.

As she wakes up, she always snuggles into my side, draping one leg over mine and nuzzling my neck. Her soft lips move along my jaw, leaving a trail of feather-soft kisses behind. Then her hand moves from from my chest to my stomach, tracing the lines of my muscles before dipping lower.

Some mornings, Lark will climb on top of me, and we’ll make love like that. Which I love, because there’s nothing sexier than watching her take control. Watching her peel off whichever T-shirt of mine she decided to wear the night before, revealing her perfect breasts and rosy-tipped nipples and that little heart constellation I can’t resist.

But on other mornings, like this one, she lets me take the lead.

Stretched out across the crisp white sheets, Lark is a glorious splash of color. Her hair is a shimmering curtain of copper and cherry and gold. Those incredible freckles are dusted all over her body. Emerald-colored lace covers the apex of her thighs, turning dark with her growing arousal.

And her eyes.

An ever-shifting kaleidoscope of golds and greens, they change with her mood. Right now they’re a deep green touched with glittering gold, dark with desire as she gazes up at me.

Her lips curve up, revealing a teasing smile. “Are you going to do anything? Or are you just going to keep staring at me?”

I lower my head to kiss that little heart-shapedpattern of freckles. “I can’t help it. How can I not look at how gorgeous you are?”

A hint of pink touches her cheeks, another thing about Lark I love. No matter how many times I tell her she’s beautiful, she still blushes a little.

And then there are the times she thinks about us making love. When we’re out at a restaurant or walking in downtown Bliss or sitting at home having breakfast, her face will suddenly go red and I justknowwhat she’s thinking.

It makes me feel good that she’s still excited to make love. To try out another of our fantasies.

“You’re pretty handsome, too, you know.” Lark touches my stomach, trailing her fingers across it, sending zips of heat and electricity through my body. Already hard, I feel myself straining toward her, now slick and throbbing with need. “And have I mentioned how much I love your abs? How sexy they are?”

I suck in a breath as her fingers wrap around me, softly stroking. “You may have mentioned it once or twice.”

And even if I didn’t need to keep in shape for my job with the Guardians, I would to keep the muscles she loves to touch.

“Not that I love you for your body,” she adds with a smile. “I’ll still love you when we’re both all old and gray and out of shape.”

“Never.” Leaning over her, I start kissing the freckles dusted across her breasts. “I’ll still be working out when I’m seventy. How else can I stay strong enough to carry you to the bedroom?”

As my lips close around Lark’s nipple, she gasps. “Well.” She arches toward me, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment. “I do like it when you do that. So I wouldn’t”—another small gasp as I flick her nipple with my tongue—“complain.”

Taking her other nipple in my mouth and sucking lightly, I let my hand wander down, caressing the satiny soft skin of her belly. Then I move lower, my fingers slipping under the lacy fabric and stroking the silky curls beneath.

“Knox—” Her hips jerk as I find her sensitive bud and work it with my fingers. Legs falling open, she’s flushed and wet and ready for me. I swirl my tongue across her little tattoo and she moans, her stomach muscles tightening at the sensation.

Plunging one finger inside her slick heat, I pump it in and out slowly. I kiss a delectable freckle just below her hip, then glance up to meet her heated gaze. “I think I’ve counted one-thousand and forty-two.”

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