Page 25 of Forever with the Mountain Man

I nod firmly. “Happier than I’ve ever been.” I close my eyes, shaking my head before I add to a chorus of giggles, “And, yes, she is perfect.”

Back inside, I shut the door, crossing the room to claim Felicity’s mouth again ravenously. We’ve been kissing all day, so much so that her cheeks are turning ruddy from my beard. I should show more self-control and let the pretty flesh of her face have a break. But she’s like a sweet treat; the more I consume, the more I need.

Her eyes dance as I wrap my arms around her, trying to read her face. She observes, “This spread is a feast.”

“It is,” I say, eyeing the table proudly. “They’ve gone all out for us.”

“Where do we start?” she asks breathlessly.

“You will start on my lap,” I say, playfully nipping at her neck and showering her décolletage in tender kisses. “And I will feed you, introducing you to the foods of my homeland, which I imagine you know more about than me, having lived in Pau.”

“Some of this does look very familiar,” she observes with a big grin.

“But first, I’ll pour us some wine and light some candles because, as you already know from your time in France and the Basque Country, these meals take hours.”

The evening passes slowly with Felicity perched on my big legs, feeding each other various dishes and indulging in the experience of sustaining each other.

Her face fills with rapture as I tear off a chunk of homemade bread, slathering it in black cherry jam and bringing it to her mouth for a bite.

“It’s good, non?”

“Delicious,” she says, closing her eyes and savoring it.

We dive into the Red Tuna casserole, cooked with onions, herbs, tomatoes, and white wine, savoring our fruity glasses of red in between. Then, Fish Stew and the delectable Bayonne Ham. As we eat, something weighs more and more upon me. Why this gourmet spread? How did Ama know Felicity would arrive? We never eat like this in one sitting except for holidays.

Felicity palms my cheeks, turning my face towards hers. “You look deep in thought. What’s wrong? Tired?”

“I should be,” I say seductively, grinning at her and enjoying the way her thumbs dance over my dimples, followed by her lips. Even more than lovemaking, her tenderness towards me captures my heart. I never anticipated the warmth in her eyes or how she would cherish every part of me.

I hand-feed a small slice of sheep’s milk cheese to her, enjoying the way her sexy, generous lips part, and her tongue teases over my fingertips, inviting me to more carnal pleasures later.

“Oh my goodness, that’s delicious! I haven’t had cheese this amazing since living in France. Where did you get this?”

I smile broadly despite the sudden heaviness weighing down my heart. “I made it.”

“You made this? My gosh, Fierce, you weren’t lying when you said you make delicious cheese.”

I shrug humbly. “I’m glad you like it.”

She levels her gaze on me. “Something’s wrong. Tell me what it is.”

I shake my head. “This has all been much easier than I thought it would be. Oddly, strangely, unbelievably easy. That’s all.”

“Your family has been very welcoming. Of course, I know very little of what’s being said. What did your mom and the other women say about me earlier? I could tell I was the topic of conversation because of the way they eyed me.”

I laugh deep in my chest, my face flushing from the wine and the topic of conversation. “Do you want the truth? Or something that will make you happy?”

“You already know the answer to that, Fierce.”

I scratch my head, biting my lip. “They were admiring your good childbearing hips.”

Her eyes round, her mouth purses, and her face flushes beet red. “Seriously?”

I shrug. “I told you. They are old-fashioned. Very traditional. But they like you. That’s all that matters.”

“What matters is that I like you,” she says, nuzzling my neck, her voice relaxed with the wine.

“No stepping back now, Firefly. You told me you loved me earlier, remember?”

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