“This, this whole wedding thing. I didn’t go along with it because I needed someone to run interference. I did because I wanted you, Frankie.”
“You mean you made me be your fake wedding date, at your ex-girlfriend’s wedding so you could get me in bed?”
I grinned down at her. “I wasn’t sure it would end like this, but yeah.”
“I should punch you like you did Leo.”
“You liked that didn’t you?”
“Yes. I just wished I’d had the nerve to do the same to Tiffany. Or at least slapped the smug expression of her face.” She smiled at me before snuggling against my chest.
“Don’t get too comfortable,” I warned.
“Why not?” she murmured, her eyes halfway closed.
“Because you haven’t said what I need to hear.”
She spread her hand over my chest. Over my heart. “Oh, what is that?”
“Do you love me, Frankie?”
She pulled my mouth down to hers and whispered against my lips. “I love you more than you know, Max Wilder.”
I moved, pressing her back against the mattress, settling myself against her once again. “Then show me.”
EPILOGUE
Frankie
Six Months Later…
The air up on the mountain was different than in town. It was thinner, sharper, and smelled like the kind of freedom I hadn’t known existed until I’d kissed Max Wilder in the middle of a hardware store one fateful day.
I stood on the wraparound porch of Max’s house — our house, he kept correcting me — thinking about how my life had changed so suddenly. I’d thought I’d be crushing on the mountain man until my hair was gray. Instead, I was sleeping in his bed every night, experiencing more joy than I’d ever thought possible.
The heavy thud of an axe echoed from the side of the house. I moved along the walkway, following the sound until I spotted him.
Max was there, shirtless in the crisp autumn air, his skin glistening with a fine sheen of sweat despite the chill. He swung the axe with a brutal, rhythmic grace, his back muscles bunching and rippling with every strike.
He was a force of nature, and he was all mine.
When he heard me, he buried the axe head in the chopping block and turned around. His dark eyes were hooded, his gazeraking over me with that familiar, predatory heat that made my body instantly ready for him.
“You’re wearing my shirt. And I’m pretty sure you’re not wearing anything under it,” he noted
“I thought it would be more... efficient,” I said. “Saving time with the undressing part and all.”
Max didn’t laugh. He never did when it came to wanting me. He just crossed the grass in three long, heavy strides, marched up the steps and pushed me against the cabin wall. He reached out, his hand hooking into the collar of the shirt and hauling me flush against his sweaty, heated chest.
“Max, you’re all dirty,” I said, although my hands were already busy finding the button of his work pants.
“I’m a mountain man, Frankie. Dirt comes with the territory. And right now, the only territory I care about is what’s between your legs.”
His hand dove down to find the soaking heat I’d become just watching him work.
“God, you’re so wet for me,” he growled, his fingers finding my center and sliding in deep. “Every time I look at you, you’re ready.”
“It’s your fault,” I gasped, my head falling back as his thumb found my clit and began a relentless grind. “You look like that... and you touch me like this... I don’t stand a chance.”
