Page 23 of The Mountain Man's Mail Order Surprise
"We'll deal with it. Together." I slide my hands down to rest on his chest. "But right now, in this moment, I just want to feel like a woman instead of a victim. Can you do that for me?"
"Sweetheart, I can do whatever you need me to do."
The promise in his words makes my heart skip. "Then take me to bed, Rosco Kane. Show me what it feels like to be wanted by a good man."
His eyes flash with heat and something deeper, more possessive. "You sure about this?"
"I've never been more sure of anything in my life."
He lifts me down from the counter, his hands lingering on my waist. "Then let's go make you feel like the goddess you are."
As he leads me toward his bedroom, his fingers intertwined with mine, I feel something I haven't experienced in months.Hope. Real, genuine hope that maybe, just maybe, I've found not just safety but something infinitely more precious.
Rosco turns to look at me with eyes full of promise and desire that fills me with a warmth. Even if we are about to consummate our relationship before our wedding, even if everything about this is backwards and impractical, it feels right. He feels right.
And for the first time since I saw those two pink lines on a pregnancy test six months ago, I'm not running from something.
I'm running toward it.
CHAPTER FIVE
ROSCO
Leading Gia to my bedroom feels like the most natural thing in the world and the most terrifying. Her small hand in mine, the way she looks up at me with trust and desire in those dark eyes, the soft swell of her belly carrying my child. Everything about this should be complicated as hell, but walking with her down my hallway, it feels simple.
Right.
"Getting alarm bells yet?" I ask as we reach my bedroom door.
"About a dozen," she admits, but her grip on my hand tightens. "But not about this. Not about you."
I push open the door to reveal my space. It's not fancy, just a king sized bed with a sturdy oak frame I built myself, a dresser, and large windows that look out over the valley. Afternoon sunlight streams through the glass, painting everything in golden warmth.
"It's perfect," Gia says softly, and something in her voice tells me she means more than just the room.
I turn to face her, drinking in the sight of her standing in my bedroom. Sunlight catches the highlights in her dark hair, and pregnancy has given her skin a glow that makes my chest tight with want. She's beautiful, but more than that, she's here. In my space, choosing this, choosing me.
"You sure about this?" I have to ask one more time. "We can wait. Take things slow."
"I told you, I don't want slow." She steps closer, sliding her hands up my chest. "I want to feel alive again. I want to feel like a woman instead of just a vessel for someone else's anger."
The pain in those words makes my jaw clench. Zack really did a number on her, made her feel like she was nothing but an object to be controlled. I'm going to spend however long it takes showing her exactly how wrong he was.
"You're not a vessel," I tell her, framing her face with my hands. "You're incredible. Strong and brave and so fucking beautiful it takes my breath away."
"Show me." The words come out as a whisper, but the need behind them is anything but quiet. "Please, Rosco. Show me."
Something primal shifts in my chest at her plea. She's asking me to take control, to show her what it feels like to be cherished instead of used. I can do that. I can give her exactly what she needs.
"Come here," I command softly, and watch her eyes widen at the change in my tone. "Stand right there."
I position her in front of the window where the afternoon light will hit her perfectly, then step back to look at her. "Don't move. I want to see all of you."
Her breath catches, but she stays still, letting me drink in the sight of her. The way the light plays across her skin, the soft curve of her belly, the rapid rise and fall of her chest as anticipation builds between us.
"Good girl," I murmur, and her sharp intake of breath tells me she likes the praise. "Now, I'm going to undress you. Slowly. And you're going to let me, aren't you?"
"Yes." The word comes out breathless.
