Page 19 of Her Mountain Man Protector
I haven’t heard from my parents since Grace and I left the castle that day in Holden’s truck. According to one of Grace’s friends back in New York, they’ve fallen pretty spectacularly from grace after what happened with the Kingsleys. High society doesn’t look favorably on a family who jilts the same groom twice in the space of a week, especially as the Kingsleys have so much influence. I almost feel sorry for my parents. Their lives are so empty, and they can’t even see it. But then I remember everything they put me and Grace through, and my sympathy runs dry.
Julian Kingsley ended up marrying someone else, an heiress called Anastasia—but it doesn’t sound like his family’s plan worked. Instead of rebuilding his reputation, getting married seems to have made Julian wilder than ever. He’s still making the headlines, most recently for getting high and stealing a car, then joyriding around New York City. Unfortunately for him, the car belonged to a high-ranking politician, and even the Kingsleys’ influence couldn’t protect their son from going to jail.
It all feels so far away now: the rivalries, the status chasing, all the petty rules and social graces that my parents were always obsessed with. Life in Cherry Hollow is much simpler. Everyone is friendly, and nobody cares who your family is or where you come from or how much money you have. All that matters in this town is that you’re kind. A good person. People are always quick to pay back that kindness here.
I make my way deeper into the auto shop, following the sound of clanking tools. The place is full of vehicles in various states of repair, and as I round the back of an old SUV, my heart leaps when I see Holden.
God, he always looks so hot when he’s working.
My husband is arranging his tools on the shelf, his sleeves rolled up, hands stained with oil that bleeds up into his tattoos. Age only seems to make him sexier. He looks more rugged than ever, with white hairs streaking his beard, the grooves deeper around his blue eyes. He still looks naturally grumpy, with his creased brow and serious mouth, but these days, my husband is much quicker to smile than he used to be. Heck, he’s smiling right now, his mouth curving up beneath his beard as he catches sight of me.
“Hey, beautiful. Didn’t hear you come in.”
He wipes his hands on a rag before wrapping his arms around me, drawing me close. I breathe in his scent, so familiar to me now, and melt against his broad chest.
“Did you have a good day?” he asks, pressing a kiss on my cheek.
“Yep! It was a busy one—lots of orders.” I spent most of my day in the back, arranging bouquets and prepping fresh blooms. It’s my favorite thing to do at the shop.
“Busy here, too,” Holden says. “Just let me finish tidying up and we’ll head home, okay?”
He kisses me softly on the lips, then speedily arranges his tools and closes the hood of the SUV. Once everything is in order, he loops an arm around my waist and guides me out the garage door, pulling it closed behind us. We stop at the bakery down the street to grab a fresh cherry pie—a Cherry Hollow specialty—before Holden helps me up into his truck.
We drive up the mountain, chatting about our days as the sky outside begins to darken. When we arrive at the cabin, Holden stops the truck and lets out a contented sigh.
“Home sweet home.”
It took a little while for Holden to warm to the cabin that Ralph left him. But after I moved in, we made the place our own, with new furniture, plenty of bookshelves, and plants on everysurface. We even tackled the shed, finally cleaning it out and converting it into a workshop. Now it feels like our home, and I can’t imagine living anywhere else. But as much as I love our cozy cabin, with its plush rugs and rustic décor, the best part is our garden.
What started out as a modest patch around the back has spilled all around the cabin, circling our home in a halo of color. There’s everything from flowers to fruit trees, herbs to vegetable patches. It’s my favorite place to spend time, just me and Holden tending to our plants, breathing in the sweet scent of flowers and harvesting the fruit from our trees.
Heaven.
I follow Holden inside, and once we’re settled on the couch with a slice of cherry pie each, a toasty fire crackling in the hearth, I check my phone. Grace said she’d message me this evening to discuss weekend plans, and as promised, there’s a text from her.
Sunday at 7 if you’re free? Isabelle and Wyatt are invited too. Lucian is making lasagna!
I smile as I tap out a reply.
Sounds perfect. We’ll bring the dessert.
Grace reacts with a heart emoji, and I pocket my phone. My sister didn’t stay with us for long in the end. Holden kept his word, reassuring her she didn’t have to leave, but everything changed when she met Lucian, our closest neighbor. The rest is history. They fell fast, just like me and Holden, and now they’re married, living in a log cabin only a short distance away from ours. I’ve never seen my sister so happy, and I’m glad she’s found someone who loves her as much as she deserves.
“Sounds good, sugar,” Holden says when I tell him the plan for Sunday. “But tonight, I want you all to myself.”
I grin at him, humming with delight as he leans in to brush a string of kisses down my neck. His beard tickles, making me shiver as he runs a hand through my hair, his mouth finding mine. He kisses me hard, a bruising kiss that shows me exactly what he wants. And after a whole day without him, I want it too. Badly.
Holden’s tongue fills my open mouth, hot and hungry, his raw taste sending a pang of longing between my thighs. He grabs at my clothes, careful not to hurt my bump as he pulls off my bra and sweater, my swollen breasts spilling free. I love his intensity, his urgency, like he’ll die if he doesn’t take me now. We can never keep our hands off each other long, especially when we’ve been apart for a few hours. And now that I’m pregnant, Holden seems to want me more than ever.
“Fuck, sugar, these curves…” he groans, running his hands over my naked skin. “You don’t know how crazy you make me.”
He’s already reaching for my jeans, and I help him pull them down, kicking them aside along with my panties. I’m soaked for him, arousal seeping down my thighs, and he rips off his own clothes like a man possessed. Sometimes we make love for hours, taking our time, long mornings spent teasing and exploring. But other times, the need is too primal, too desperate. A deep ache that needs soothing.
I stare at my husband’s naked body, my core throbbing with anticipation. He’s so big, so brawny, every inch of him thick with muscle. His giant cock is hard and swollen, and Holden sits back on the couch, pulling me toward him. “Come here and ride me like a good girl.”
I don’t need to be told twice. I kneel either side of my husband’s hips, my feet resting on his thighs. Gripping hisshoulders tight, I look into his eyes as I sink down onto his cock, moaning with relief as it fills me up.
“Fuck, sugar, that’s it,” Holden groans. “Keep looking at me, just like that.”
