Chapter Seven
Sloane
Town gossip spreads fast as we walk hand-in-hand through Pine Peak.
Every person we pass offers a smile, a wave, or an outright congratulations.
Forrest’s big hand envelops mine completely, warm and steady.
I keep stealing glances at him, this giant of a man who moves through his hometown with such easy confidence and genuine kindness that my chest feels too full.
“Well, if it isn’t the newlyweds!” she exclaims, clapping her hands together. “Forrest Kane, you went and got yourself hitched faster than a summer storm rolls in. And you, young lady, Sloane, right? Come here and let me get a good look at you.”
I laugh as she bustles around the counter and pulls me into a surprisingly strong hug. Earl shakes Forrest’s hand with a firm grip before turning to me with a twinkling smile.
“Betty’s been telling everyone who’ll listen that our favorite lumberjack finally found his match,” Earl says, giving me a wink. “Heard you two caused quite the stir at the courthouse last night.”
Forrest rubs the back of his neck, but his grin stays wide. “Might have played a small part. But mostly it was this one right here lighting up my whole night.”
He pulls me closer, his arm sliding around my waist. The casual possessiveness sends a warm shiver through me. Betty insists on gifting us a jar of her famous peach preserves and a fresh loaf of bread. Earl adds a bag of locally roasted coffee beans. Their kindness feels genuine and welcoming.
We leave the store still laughing, the gossip following us down the street. Pine Peak seems delighted by our whirlwind story, and that collective warmth chips away at the last stubborn edges of my morning panic.
Halfway down the block, Rosie spots us from the doorway of Peak Tavern. She jogs over with two to-go cups in her hands.
“Free drinks for the happy couple! I promise it’s not moonshine,” she announces, pressing an iced tea into my hand and a black coffee into Forrest’s.
“On the house. Mabel told me to make sure you both stay hydrated after all that celebrating.” She winks at me.
“You two looked so cute dancing together. The whole town is buzzing about how Forrest Kane finally got swept off his big feet.”
Forrest lets out one of his deep, rolling laughs. “Swept me right off them. Best thing that ever happened.”
Rosie beams and gives my arm a quick squeeze before heading back inside. “Enjoy the rest of your Sunday!”
We continue our slow walk, sipping our drinks.
Forrest listens with genuine interest every time I share a story from my life in Denver—the chaotic marketing campaigns, the endless traffic, the way the city never truly quiets down.
He asks thoughtful questions, his hazel eyes focused completely on me.
His big laugh erupts whenever I exaggerate the ridiculous parts, and the sound wraps around me like a hug.
Every few steps, he finds a new reason to touch me, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, resting his hand at the small of my back, or lifting our joined hands to press a kiss to my knuckles.
Each casual caress builds a slow-burning heat low in my belly.
By the time we reach the edge of town where we had parked, my desire is almost unbearable.
“Forrest,” I say, my voice softer and breathier than I intend. “Take me home.”
His eyes darken with the same hunger I feel. “Yes, ma’am.”
The drive back to the cabin passes in a haze of charged silence and stolen glances.
The moment we step inside and close the door behind us, the tension snaps.
Forrest lifts me into his arms like I weigh nothing, my legs wrapping around his waist as our mouths crash together in a deep, needy kiss.
I bury my fingers in his thick hair, tugging just enough to draw a low growl from his throat.
He carries me straight to the bedroom, setting me gently on the edge of the bed before dropping to his knees in front of me.
Those strong, calloused hands slide up my thighs, pushing the borrowed flannel shirt higher until he can press hot, open-mouthed kisses along my skin.
Every touch feels reverent and possessive at the same time—gentle enough to make me melt, firm enough to remind me I am his.
“Been wanting to do this all day,” he murmurs against my inner thigh, his breath warm and teasing. “My wife. So beautiful. So mine.”
I tease him right back, my sassy words turning into soft gasps as his mouth finds me.
Forrest takes his time, using his tongue and fingers with patient skill until my hips are lifting off the bed and my hands are fisted in the sheets.
When I finally shatter, crying out his name, he rises over me with a satisfied growl, shedding his clothes in record time.
He enters me in one smooth thrust, filling me completely. The stretch is perfect, the connection electric. We move together in a slow, deep rhythm at first, savoring every slide and retreat. His big hands grip my hips, guiding me as I meet each thrust.
I meet his hazel eyes, the intensity there stealing what little breath I have left.
He drives into me harder, deeper, one hand slipping between us to circle that sensitive bundle of nerves until I am trembling on the edge again.
We fall over together this time, his release pulsing hot inside me as my own pleasure crashes through every nerve.
Afterward, we lie tangled in the sheets, my head resting on his broad chest while his fingers trace lazy patterns up and down my spine.
The late afternoon light filters through the pines outside, casting long shadows across the wooden floor.
Forrest’s heartbeat thuds steady and strong beneath my ear.
Doubts flicker at the edges of my mind—how impossibly fast everything has moved, how little we still know about each other, how my entire life sits back in Denver waiting for decisions I am not ready to make.
But those worries feel distant and quiet compared to the overwhelming joy and connection humming between us right now.
Forrest presses a kiss to the top of my head, his arm tightening around me. I tilt my head to look up at him, tracing the line of his jaw with my fingertips. If we could just stay right here forever, I would never want anything else.