Down the Mountain #2
Lily smiles, her hand resting on Max’s shoulder. “Max doesn’t lose when it comes to the numbers. Trust him.”
The tension in my chest relaxes slightly, a hard knot of worry loosening behind my ribs. Jesse’s dream wasn’t just a dead man’s hope. It was a blueprint, and Bella is already filling in the details.
We finish the coffee, the warmth of the tavern staying with us as we say our goodbyes. Tess stops us near the door, her hand resting on Bella’s arm. “Mabel’s cabin is quiet. If you need anything, we’re just down the road.”
The sun has dropped behind the ridges by the time we walk back to the Pine Cabin, the sky turning a deep, freezing violet. The wind is low, the pines standing silent under their load of snow, their branches casting long, blue shadows across the drifts.
Inside the cabin, I build a fire in the stone hearth, the split pine catching quickly and casting a warm, flickering orange light across the cedar walls. Bella sits on the edge of the queen bed, her boots off, her knees pulled to her chest under the patchwork quilt.
I sit beside her, the mattress shifting under my weight. I reach out, my fingers curling around her ankle, feeling the warmth of her skin through her thick wool socks.
“You’re quiet.” My voice is low in the firelit room.
Bella looks at me, the orange light reflecting in her hazel eyes, softening the guarded look she always wears. “I’m just thinking about what Jesse wrote. About the rope.”
I slide up the bed, leaning my back against the pine headboard, and pull her into my side. She settles against me, her head resting on my chest, her hand flat against the flannel of my shirt, right over the pocket where the letter sits.
“He was right,” she whispers. “I spent three years talking people back from the edge because it was the only way I knew how to feel useful. But I was always the one standing on the ledge. Terrified of letting anyone close enough to watch me fall.”
“You aren’t on the ledge anymore.” I wrap my arm around her shoulders, tucking her close, my chin resting against her hair. “I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere.”
She looks up, her face inches from mine, her lips parted. The pull between us is undeniable, a physical gravity that has nothing to do with the storm or the debts.
I cup her jaw, my thumb tracing the soft curve of her bottom lip. “Stay. Please. Not for the deed. Not for the clinic. For me.”
“I’m staying.” Her voice is a warm breath against my skin.
I lean down and kiss her.
The kiss is slow, tender, a claiming that’s different from the dark, desperate urgency of the storm night.
It’s a promise made in the firelight, a surrender that we both choose. I slide my hand under the hem of the borrowed sweater, my palm warm against the smooth skin of her waist.
She lets out a quiet sigh, her fingers tangling in my hair as she pulls me closer.
I pull the heavy sweater over her head and set it aside, leaving her fully bare in the warm, flickering orange light.
She is beautiful—not with the fragile, storm-battered look of the first night, but soft, flushed, and looking up at me with a steady, quiet trust. My gaze drifts down her bare body, taking in the soft curve of her belly and the dark, inviting shadow between her thighs.
Before I even touch her, my chest aches with how much I want her.
I lean down, my hands cupping her breasts, feeling the heavy warmth of them in my palms. My thumbs sweep across her nipples, watching them swell and harden under my touch.
When I lean in to take one pert peak into my mouth, she lets out a soft, breathy gasp.
I swirl my tongue around the sensitive bud, sucking it deep into the heat of my mouth while my fingers pinch and tease the other, driving a low, delicious shudder through her body.
“Wyatt,” she whimpers, her fingers tangling in my hair, pulling me closer.
I don’t stop. I trace a path of wet, burning kisses down the sensitive skin of her stomach, my hands sliding down to part her knees.
She opens for me, yielding and completely raw.
I kneel between her thighs, my breath hot against her inner thighs, before I slide my hands beneath her hips, tilting her up to face my mouth.
I press my lips to her center, parting her soft outer lips to find the slick, hidden pearl of her most sensitive spot.
Bella gasps, her hips twitching upward as my tongue makes first contact.
I stroke her with long, wet, upward licks, tasting her sweet, natural creaminess.
I slip a finger deep inside her tight, dripping passage, feeling her clench around me, while my tongue laps at her swollen bud in a steady, teasing rhythm.
She arches off the mattress, crying out my name as the pleasure builds, her fingers clawing at the sheets.
I drink her in until she is trembling on the very edge of ruin.
Only then do I strip my own clothes away, the cool air of the room hitting my bare back before I settle over her again, thick and aching.
When I align my rigid length against her soaking wet opening, she wraps her legs around my waist, her heels digging into my lower back.
“Please, Wyatt. Now,” she begs, her eyes bright with unshed tears of pure need.
“No walls, Bella. Just you and me,” I whisper, locking our fingers together on the pillows beside her head.
I sink into her, slow and deep. She stretches beautifully around me, her tight walls grasping, sliding along my hard shaft with a thick, friction-filled heat that nearly takes my breath away. A soft, shattered sigh escapes her lips, her body molding around mine in a perfect, desperate embrace.
I begin to move inside her, every stroke burying me completely to the hilt. The wet, slapping sound of our skin meeting fills the quiet cabin, a carnal rhythm that matches the heavy thud of our hearts.
I slide my hands down to cup her breasts again, squeezing the soft flesh as I pick up the pace, driving harder and deeper. Bella’s hips roll in time with mine, taking every thrust, her internal muscles clenching tightly around me with every deep plunge.
The firelight draws long, amber shadows over our joined bodies as the friction builds to a scorching, unbearable heat. I grind my pelvis against hers, my thick shaft rubbing directly against her sweet, swollen bud with every drive, pushing her back over the edge.
She cries out, her body suddenly seizing, her inner muscles squeezing me in a series of violent, ecstatic spasms. The tight, pulsing clench of her release shatters my final thread of control.
With a low, guttural groan, I drive deep, burying myself inside her as my own climax tears through me, pouring myself hot and deep into her while our hearts hammer together in the warm cabin.
We move together under the heavy quilt, the crackle of the fire the only sound in the warm cabin.
Every touch is deliberate, every press of my chest against hers a validation of the future we’re building.
For once, I’m not healing a wound or saving a life.
I’m just loving the woman Jesse willed to me.
Hours later, the fire has died down to a bed of glowing red coals, casting long, soft shadows across the ceiling. Bella lies asleep beside me, her head resting on my shoulder, her breathing slow and even.
I lie awake, staring at the shadows, my hand resting on her hip. For the first time in years, the weight of the guys we lost downrange doesn’t feel like a debt I have to pay with my own slow death. The shelter isn’t my fortress anymore. It’s our home.
The phone on the timber nightstand vibrates, the screen lighting up the dark room.
I reach out, keeping my arm still under Bella’s shoulders so I don’t wake her. The text is from Lucas Reid.
Wyatt, just got a call from my contact on Sterling’s team.
Brock is bringing the foreclosure file to the hearing tomorrow morning.
The mortgage default, the tax liens, all of it.
He’s going to argue you two are insolvent owners, and the county has to grant the variance before the property goes to a bank auction.
It’s a public smear dressed up as due diligence. Tell Bella to be ready.
I stare at the screen, the blue light reflecting in the dark cabin.
My jaw clenches, a hard, cold anger settling into my bones. Brock Sterling thinks he can use her pain to break us. He thinks he can drag her through the mud in front of the town to take the meadow.
I lock the phone, dropping it back onto the table. I pull the quilt tighter around Bella’s shoulders, drawing her closer to my chest.
Let him try.
Tomorrow, we walk into that hearing. And Cascade is going to find out what happens when you threaten a pack.