Page 6 of Her Mountain Boss (Honey Ridge #3)

Four

Ford

The sun is just starting to dip below the mountains, casting Blackwood Lodge in a warm, amber glow.

Dusk is one of my favourite times of day, and it’s when I usually make my rounds, walking the grounds I know like the back of my hand, checking the cabins, ensuring everything is in order.

The crunch of gravel under my boots echoes in the quiet evening, a familiar sound that usually soothes me.

Grounds me. But not tonight, because my thoughts are consumed with Sophia.

I round a bend in the path, passing the apple orchard. The trees are laden with ripe fruit, their sweet scent hanging in the cool evening air. I slow my steps, inhaling deeply. The scent makes me think of Sophia—sweet, tantalizing, forbidden.

Stop , I mentally chastize myself, wrenching my mind back to the mundane checklist of chores and duties that usually fills my mind.

But there isn’t a single goddamn thing that doesn’t make me think of her.

Our short interaction in the kitchen replays on a loop in my mind.

The way her eyes met mine, wide and curious, a hint of jealousy flashing when she’d clumsily asked if I was single.

The way her lips parted, soft and inviting.

The way her body leaned towards mine, as if drawn by an invisible thread.

It took every ounce of willpower not to close the distance.

Not to back her up against the counter and kiss the absolute shit out of her.

I rub the back of my neck as I walk, a futile attempt to ease the tension knotted there.

I can still see her standing in the kitchen, that mass of reddish brown curls piled on top of her head, a few ringlets framing her face.

Flushed cheeks—from the warmth of the kitchen, or from me? From our conversation?

Because I might’ve been out of the dating world for a long time, but I’m not so rusty that I don’t see the way my little step-niece looks at me. The curious hunger in her pretty hazel eyes, the sweet blush on her cheeks. Her need to know if I’m single.

Sophia wants me, and the fact that I know that and I’ve still kept my distance…fuck, but I deserve all the gold stars for that.

Because every time I’m around her, it’s like a match lighting up the darkness and casting everything in a warm, hopeful glow.

Every word, every glance, every brushing contact is a spark.

A flame that could quickly turn into a wildfire.

And yet, even though I know I can’t have it, I want more.

I want more of her laughter, her smiles, more of her.

I want to know everything about her. I want to know what her hopes and dreams for the future are.

I want to know why she’s never had a fucking boyfriend.

I want to know what she sounds like when I make her come.

But I can’t. Even if she wants me, I won’t. I’m her uncle, for fuck’s sake. I’m too old for her. I’m supposed to be teaching her. Guiding her, not fantasizing about devouring her. Claiming her.

Besides. I’m a man with certain…preferences. Sophia’s far too young and innocent for the kinky shit I’m into. But god, if I thought she was, if I thought she’d let me be her Daddy…I don’t think I’d be able to stay away. Despite all the reasons I should, I don’t think I could.

But that’s not going to happen, so it’s a moot point.

I reach the main lodge, warmth from inside spilling out through the large windows and onto the porch.

I step inside, nodding politely at guests and staff.

The resort is quiet this week, but I know we’re expecting an influx of guests on Friday afternoon.

But right now, it’s only Wednesday, which is the night staff who aren’t working head into Honey Ridge for dinner and something to do—a movie, bowling, something fun.

I know Sophia isn’t working tonight, and I hope she went with them.

Unless Carter went into town, and then I hope she stayed here.

Fuck.

I move through the lodge, and then step outside into the crisp evening air.

I make my way around the pool, closed for the season, and head towards the hot tub area, my eyes taking in every single detail, looking for anything amiss.

The hot tub area is secluded, tucked away to offer guests both privacy and relaxation, with a stunning view of the lake and mountains.

I can hear the sound of bubbling water. I’m not surprised a guest is using the hot tub.

It’s a gorgeous evening, with a spectacular sunset.

But as I round the corner, keeping my distance so as to not intrude, I stop dead in my tracks, frozen in place by the sight before me.

It’s not a guest using the hot tub. It’s Sophia.

She stands from the hot tub wearing a tiny black bikini, the triangles of fabric barely containing her fantastic tits, barely covering her little pussy.

Her tits are practically spilling out, the swell of her cleavage glistening with water droplets.

I stand there, frozen, as she retrieves a bottle of water and then slips back into the hot tub, a soft sigh escaping her lips.

She’s not wearing her glasses, and her damp curls cling to her neck, a few tendrils plastered to her creamy skin.

Fuck me, she’s a vision. A goddamn wet dream come to life.

I can’t look away. I can’t fucking move.

All I can do is stare. My eyes trace the curve of her shoulders, the swell of those mouthwatering tits.

Her skin is flushed from the heat, glowing in the soft light of the setting sun.

I want to touch her so badly. More than I’ve ever wanted to touch another human being in my life.

I want to run my hands over every inch of her curves.

I bet she’s soft. She looks so fucking soft.

I want to taste her. Her skin. Her pussy.

My cock is rock fucking hard, straining against my jeans, begging to be let out.

Begging to be inside her. I’m so hard it hurts, even though I fucked my fist in the shower this morning, imagining her lips wrapped around me.

Even though I stroked myself before bed last night, wondering if my step-niece is a virgin.

She shifts in the hot tub, making her cleavage jiggle.

I want to strip that tiny bikini off her, toss it aside, and make her my next meal.

I want to suck her nipples into my mouth, tease them with my teeth.

I want to lick every drop of water off her skin, trace her delicious curves with my mouth.

I want to spread her luscious thighs and bury my face in her pussy.

I want to taste her, feast on her until she screams my name.

Until she’s so sensitive and wrung out that she begs me to stop.

Never in my life have I wanted to fuck so badly.

The thought of sinking my cock into her, claiming her, fucking her hard as I stuff her full, has pre-cum leaking from my cock.

Has my balls drawing up tight. I want to fuck her.

Fill her. Stretch her little cunt around me.

Watch my cum drip out of her. I want to mark her, leave my bruises on her soft skin, bite marks on her neck, her tits, her thighs, my hand print on her ass.

I want to fuck her until she can’t walk straight, until she can’t sit down without remembering who wrecked her sore pussy. I want her aching and begging.

And then I want to hold her all night. I want to make her breakfast in the morning. I want to know every single thought, every single feeling, every single hope and fear and like and dislike she has. I want every single part of her.

I want her. I want her so fucking bad that I might actually lose my mind. I am consumed with want.

But I can’t have her. I can’t fucking touch her. She’s off-limits. Completely forbidden.

And yet, here I stand, like a fucking creep, staring at her, wanting her, imagining all the filthy, depraved things I want to do to her. I’m a sick bastard. A fucking pervert. But I can’t stop. I can’t look away.

She shifts in the water, her eyes closed, a soft moan escaping from those bee-stung lips.

My cock throbs, desperate for relief. Desperate for her.

Desperate for what it can’t have. I reach down, adjusting myself, trying to ease the ache, but it’s no use.

There’s only one thing that will satisfy me, and it’s not my goddamn fist. It’s her. Only her.

I’m so fucked. So completely, utterly fucked.

Just then, Sophia turns, her eyes meeting mine. A lazy, relaxed smile spreads across her face, lighting her up. “Hey, Ford. Come to join me?”

I growl. “No.”

She tilts her head, her pretty smile firmly in place. “Are you always this grumpy, or just with me?”

I step closer, my boots thudding softly on the paving stones surrounding the hot tub. “I’m not grumpy.”

Sophia raises an eyebrow, a playful glint dancing in her hazel eyes. “Really? Because the look on your face,” she says, lifting one hand out of the water and drawing a circle in the air with her index finger, “is very grumpy. And you just growled no like I offered you poison.”

“I’m just thinking. This is my thinking face.”

“Thinking about how grumpy you are?” She laughs, the sound musical, magical. “Or about how you’d rather be anywhere else than right here?”

I take another step closer, the steam from the hot tub curling around me. “Not even close.”

“No?” She leans back, her arms resting on the edge of the hot tub. The movement makes her tits strain against the tiny triangles of her bikini top and my brain goes fuzzy for a second. “What are you thinking about, then?”

I’m not walking into that trap. Sophia’s flirting with me. She wants me. This chemistry, this attraction, isn’t one-sided. But I can’t do anything about it.

I should probably stop staring at her tits, in that case.

“I’m thinking about how you shouldn’t be out here alone. It’s not safe.” My words sound hollow, even to my own ears.