Page 6 of Falling for Felix (Mountain Men Fall Harder #1)

Felix

Harper's RV is parked in the overflow camping area behind the festival grounds, nestled between a vintage Airstream and a converted school bus painted with sunflowers.

String lights wound around the awning cast everything in warm, golden light, and I can hear the distant sound of music drifting from the main festival area.

The inside surprises me.

I'd expected chaos—art supplies everywhere, clothes thrown over furniture, the kind of creative disorder that follows some people like a personal weather system. Instead, it's organized in a way that makes sense. Cozy and lived-in, but thoughtfully arranged.

The space smells fresh and clean, with a hint of citrus.

There's a small galley kitchen with copper pots hanging from hooks. There’s also a compact work area covered in mosaic tiles and colored glass, with tools arranged with the precision of someone who knows exactly where everything belongs.

Fairy lights are strung along the ceiling, and a dog bed rests in a corner.

Pickles immediately collapses onto it with a contented sigh.

Everything feels warm. Intentional. Her.

Her hands flutter as she turns on a few more lights, adjusting things that don't need adjusting. She’s nervous , I realize.

"Sorry for the mess," she says, though there isn't one. "I wasn't exactly planning to bring home a mountain man tonight."

"You do this often?" I ask, closing the door behind me. "Bring home strays?"

She turns to face me, and there's something vulnerable in her expression that makes my chest tight. "Please. You're my first."

"First what?"

"First gruff loner with dangerous hands and a tendency to brood." She steps closer, and I can see the pulse beating at the base of her throat. "First man who makes me feel like I might want to stay in one place for more than a few weeks."

"Is that what I do?"

"Among other things." Her voice drops to barely above a whisper. "I've been thinking about your hands all day."

"What about them?"

"How they'd feel on my skin."

That's all it takes.

I close the distance between us in two steps, backing her against the small counter beside the sink. She gasps softly as I lift her up, settling her on the narrow surface, and I step between her legs like I belong there.

"Like this?" I ask, running my hands up her thighs, feeling the smooth warmth of her skin beneath the thin fabric of her dress.

"Yes." Her eyes flutter closed as I trace the line of her jaw with my tongue. "Exactly like that."

I kiss her like I've been holding back for years. Because that's what it feels like… like I've been waiting for this moment, for her , without even knowing it. She tastes like the spiced cider she had earlier and something sweeter, something that's just one-hundred-percent Harper.

Her hands find my belt, fingers working the buckle with surprising efficiency. I drag her dress up her thighs, and she lifts her hips to help me slide her underwear down her legs.

"Felix," she whispers against my mouth, breathless and needy. "I want—"

"I know." I kiss her throat, feeling her pulse race beneath my lips. "Me too. But let’s make sure you’re nice and ready first…"

She pulls me closer, wrapping her legs around my waist as I dip my fingers inside her. I start slow, feeling her grow wetter and wetter with each second as I fuck her with my fingers. I press her clit with my thumb and she cries out with pleasure.

“Jesus, Felix…” she pants. “More… more…”

I work my jeans down just enough. When I slide my cock into her, she moans like it's the first time she's ever been touched just right, and I have to grip the edge of the counter to keep my control.

Don’t be an asshole. Let her adjust to your size. Don’t be an asshole. Take it easy. Don’t be an asshole…

"Please," she whispers, nails digging into my shoulders. "Don't be gentle."

Fuuuuck.

All my resolve goes right out the window, and I give her what she’s asked for. It's desperate and messy and fucking perfect.

We find a rhythm in that small space, nothing but the sound of our breathing and the soft creak of the RV around us. I take her like I'm afraid she might disappear if I don't hold on tight enough. Like I’m laying claim to her body, right here, right now.

“Mine.” I practically snarl the word.

“Yours,” she agrees. Just like that. Without hesitation.

Does she know that I mean forever ? Is that what she’s promising?

But I can’t think anymore. Can’t do anything but ride the wave as her inner walls clench around me and we cry out our sweet release together.

By the time we come down from the high, we're both shaking. She rests her forehead against mine, breathing hard, and I can feel the satisfied smile on her lips when she kisses me softly.

"That was—" she starts.

"Yeah."

"I can't feel my legs."

I smirk against her neck. "Good."

She laughs, the sound bright and uninhibited, and slides down from the counter on unsteady legs. "Bed?"

My own legs shake as I follow her to the small sleeping area at the back of the RV, where we collapse onto the narrow bed in a tangle of limbs and satisfied exhaustion. She curls against my side, her head finding the hollow of my shoulder like it was made to fit there.

Pickles, completely unbothered by the evening's activities, rolls over in his dog bed with a snort.

"So," Harper murmurs, tracing lazy patterns on my chest with her fingertip. "That happened."

"Mmm."

"Any regrets?"

I tighten my arm around her waist, pulling her closer. "Ask me in the morning."

She tilts her head to look at me, brown eyes soft in the dim light. "That's the second time you've said that."

"Said what?"

"Ask me tomorrow. Ask me in the morning." She props herself up on one elbow. "Are you planning to have regrets?"

I study her face—the way her hair falls in messy waves around her shoulders, the slight flush still coloring her cheeks, the honest curiosity in her expression.

"No," I say finally. "I won’t ever regret being with you.” At least, not until you leave me.

"Good." She settles back against me. "Because I'm not going anywhere."

Is she reading my mind?

"You sure about that?” I ask. “Thought you were the type who never stays in one place?”

"I was." Her voice is quiet, thoughtful. "But maybe I just hadn't found the right place yet."

Something shifts in my chest at her words. A loosening of something I'd kept locked tight for too long.

"Harper?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad your dog ran into the corn maze."

She laughs, soft and sleepy. "Me too."

Outside, the festival winds down. I can hear voices fading, car doors slamming, the distant sound of cleanup beginning. Tomorrow there will be another day of vendors and tourists, of carefully maintained distance and polite small talk.

But right now, wrapped around this woman who stumbled into my life like a force of nature, I can't remember why I ever thought alone was better.