Page 21 of Grumped By the Mountain Man

“They’re mine.”

I give him a look and he chuckles, but I’m not laughing.

“Like half the stuff in this house, I don’t use them. I just have them.”

“Why?”

“Because maybe you and Cali are right... maybe I make and buy all of this stuff because it’s what I want and I’m just too scared to admit it out loud.”

Scared? I’ve never known Jackson to be scared of anything, including that bear that nearly mauled us three summers ago. So him finally being vulnerable enough to open up to me is huge.

“Is it scary because you thought it was impossible?”

“I thought it was impossible for me to have it with you, Ayla. And if I couldn’t have it with you, I didn’t want it with anyone.”

Butterflies erupt in my stomach and send my heart into overdrive at his confession. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to hear.

He starts massaging my scalp again and I rub his thigh with my free hand.

“It’s creepy, but I thought of you while I made this cabin. I thought, would Ayla pick this tile or this color? Ultimately I drew inspiration from—”

“My favorite murder mystery movie!” I gasp. “I knew the house looked familiar!”

I try to turn to him but my protesting shoulder stops me from twisting around.

“Jaxon, you created the perfect setting for us to live together, to grow a family together, yet you wanted to keep it all fictional because you think it’s safer? So let me get this straight— wolves and bears don’t scare you, two-ton logs and power tools don’t, heck not even some crazed axe murderer potentially hiding in these woods— but feelings do and it’s all tied to your mother.”

“My father too. He loved her. He meant well, but that’s not always enough.”

“But you’re enough for me and so is Covet County. I think words are nice but it’s only my actions that’ll reassure you that I’m never leaving, not because you think you’re tying me down but because I’m right where I want to be. I just ask that you let me make my own decision because I have decided, and it’s you Jaxon. It’s always been you.”

He bends down to kiss me and I melt into a puddle in his arms.

When he finishes with my hair, he lathers my neck, shoulders, and arms before palming my breast. Heat rushes to my core as he pinches both my nipples, massaging them into peaks. His alternating pressure from gentle to near pain makes my clit pulse and my good leg drift open wantonly.

But he takes his time, cleaning my back and stomach before approaching the apex of my thighs. When his calloused soapy fingers finally make contact with my clit, I’m ready to explode.

He kisses me as I moan, his fingers working delicious circles over the sensitive nub, then just when I’m about to come he stops, working his hand up and down my folds, between my ass cheeks and over my thighs and busted leg like he’s just washing me again. I’m about to sink my claws into his elbow and force him back to the task at hand when he grabs the showerhead, adjusts the setting to a targeted stream, and aims it straight at my clit.

“Oh,” I gasp as he chuckles, his thick middle finger sliding between my drenched slit and into me. He curls it, the rough pad landing directly on my G spot that he mercilessly massages and puts pressure on.

It’s too much. The pressure of his fingers, the stream, and the building ball of fire in my core ready to explode out of it.

I slap his arm holding the showerhead in an attempt to get him to stop.

“Jax stop! I can’t—”

“Yes, you can and you will.”

“No,” I shake my head, sinking my fingers into his wrist but he doesn’t let up.

“Be a good girl and just relax. Stop fighting it and let it out. Come on my fingers.”

His words are all I need to shoot over the edge and into pure bliss. My muscles clamp down on his fingers, my hips leaving the bench to get closer to the water’s stream despite my throbbing shin. The painkillers have dulled the pain to a mild ache.

It’s not until I completely come back down to earth does Jaxon show mercy by moving the shower head and withdrawing his fingers that he brings to his lips.

I can feel the low growl in his chest as he sucks on them. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to taste you, butterfly. To get inside of you.”

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