Page 22 of Pretending with the Mountain Man
His arms tighten around me. "Thank you for trusting me with something so precious." He presses a kiss to my temple. "How do you feel? Physically, emotionally?"
"Sore," I admit. "But good sore. And emotionally..." I search for the right words. "Complete. Like I've discovered a part of myself that was always there, just waiting."
"That's exactly how it should feel." He tilts my chin up to kiss me softly. "This is just the beginning, Melody. There's so much more I want to show you, teach you, explore with you."
"I can't wait." I snuggle closer, feeling safe and cherished in a way I never have before.
As I drift toward sleep, I realize this is what I was waiting for all those years. Not just sex, but this. Connection. Trust. A partner who values my pleasure as much as his own. Someone who sees my inexperience not as a deficit but as an opportunity to build something beautiful together.
CHAPTER SIX
MALIK
The soft patter of rain against the cabin windows creates a cocoon around us, frost patterns still visible at the edges of the glass even as morning sun breaks through. The contrast—frozen delicacy meeting autumn rain—seals Melody and me in our own private world. She sleeps peacefully beside me, her curls spread across my pillow, one hand resting on my chest. I've been awake for an hour, just watching her breathe, wondering how the hell I got here and why it feels so right.
Intentionally oblivious to the chaos around us, I memorize the curve of her cheek, the fullness of her lips, the way her eyelashes fan against her skin.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand. I carefully extract myself from Melody's grip, grabbing the device before it can wake her. Jake's daily security update shows no movement from our PI friend, who remains checked in at the motel but hasn't been spotted around town since yesterday.
I slip out of bed and pull on a pair of sweatpants, padding silently to the kitchen to start coffee. The domesticity of the moment strikes me as I measure grounds into the filter. Howlong has it been since I shared my morning routine with anyone? Since Sage's mother left eighteen years ago, I've kept people at a careful distance. Even my scenes at Club Crimson maintain clear boundaries of physical release without emotional entanglement.
Yet here I am, making coffee for the beautiful young woman in my bed, feeling more content than I have in years.
The coffee maker gurgles to life as I pull ingredients from the refrigerator. If I'm making breakfast, I might as well do it properly. Eggs, bacon, the fresh bread Sage brought by last week, a few vegetables for an omelet.
"Is this what you look like every morning, or am I just lucky?"
I turn to find Melody leaning against the doorframe, wearing nothing but my discarded t-shirt from yesterday. Her hair is tousled, her eyes still heavy with sleep, and she's the most beautiful person I've ever seen.
"Depends on your definition of lucky," I reply, setting down the knife I've been using to chop peppers. "Coffee's almost ready."
She crosses the kitchen and slides her arms around my waist, pressing her cheek against my bare back. "I'm definitely lucky."
Something tightens in my chest at the simple affection in her touch. I turn in her embrace, tilting her chin up to kiss her softly. "Good morning."
"Mmm, good morning indeed." She smiles against my lips. "Though I'm a little sore in places I didn't know could be sore."
"Regrets?" I ask, studying her face.
"Not one." She reaches past me to grab a mug from the cabinet. "Though I might need a few more lessons to perfect my technique."
I swat her ass playfully as she moves to the coffee maker. "Insatiable."
"You created this monster," she points out, pouring herself a cup. She adds cream and two sugars, stirring slowly. "Need help with breakfast?"
"You can toast the bread." I return to chopping vegetables, enjoying the simple pleasure of working beside her in the kitchen.
Melody hums softly as she moves around me, some pop song I don't recognize.
"What's on the agenda today?" she asks, leaning against the counter while the bread toasts. "More security escort to Club Crimson?"
"Actually, Jake reports our friend the PI is lying low. I thought we might stay here today." I slide the chopped vegetables into a bowl. "Unless you're eager to get back to town to see Sage?"
Her smile is answer enough. "A whole day just the two of us? Yes, please."
I crack eggs into a bowl, whisking them. “Apple cider?” I offer, nodding toward the fridge. “Made it fresh yesterday. Some claim it’s better than coffee on a cold morning like this. Unless you’re like me and take both?"
"You make your own cider?” She looks charmed by this detail. “Is there anything you don't do?”
