Page 14 of Mountain Man Claimed (Hard Timber Mountain Men #4)

DANE

The pickleball courts were finally finished.

Fresh lines, new nets, everything squared away and gleaming like they were holding their breath, waiting to be used .

I’d turned down a flashier build in Whitefish last week to stay and finish this—proving again that I wasn’t chasing shiny anymore. This was where I wanted to be.

Rowan stood at the edge of the court in leggings and a hoodie, her arms crossed, squinting at the paint like it personally offended her. “They’re very... bright.”

I grinned, tossing her a paddle. “So you’re saying they match your personality.”

Her eyes narrowed, but the corner of her mouth twitched. “I’m here under protest. I don’t play silly games.”

I stepped behind her and circled my arms around her waist, tugging her close. “Good thing I’m not asking you to play. I’m asking you to try something new. With me.”

She tilted her head just enough for our cheeks to brush. “You always get your way, don’t you?”

“Not always. But I fight like hell when it matters.”

She huffed, but her eyes softened. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah,” I said. “But I’m yours.”

She turned in my arms, her eyes searching mine. “Is that what this is? Fighting for something real?”

I kissed her slow and deep. “It is for me.”

She softened against me, the paddle forgotten as her fingers found the hem of my shirt. “Then take me home and show me just how real.”

I didn’t need to be asked twice.

We locked the gym and crossed the lot in a rush of laughter and half-tripped kisses. The drive took half the time with her in the passenger seat next to me. When we made it to her front door, I almost dropped the key.

She kissed me like she meant it, like she was done fighting the way we fit together. It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t hesitant. It was fire and demand and hunger all wrapped into one long, searching kiss that sucked the breath from my lungs.

I tangled one hand in her hair, the other gripping her hip as her body pressed tight against mine. She made a sound—low and needy—and that sound short-circuited every rational thought in my brain.

“Dane,” she whispered, breaking the kiss for half a second. “I want you.”

My restraint snapped like a weak branch on a hiking trail. I walked her backwards until the backs of her knees hit the couch. She landed with a soft grunt, her eyes wide, lips parted. I followed her down, bracing one hand beside her head and staring into her face.

“Say it again.”

“I want you,” she said, breathless. “All of you.”

I groaned, crushed my mouth to hers again, and this time there was no holding back. I kissed her like I’d been starving, and she was the only thing that could satisfy the ache.

She pulled at my shirt, her fingers fumbling, desperate to get it off. I yanked it over my head and reached for hers, tugging the soft knit fabric up and over. No bra. Just miles of smooth skin and breasts that filled my hands perfectly.

“Jesus, March,” I rasped. “You’re killing me.”

She arched into me, gasping when my mouth found the tip of one breast and sucked gently, then with more pressure when her fingers clenched in my hair.

“You like that?” I murmured, flicking my tongue.

“Yes. Don’t stop.”

I kissed lower, across her ribs, down the soft dip of her stomach while she writhed beneath me, practically panting. I looked up and saw her watching me, her eyes glazed and full of need.

“Let’s go to the bedroom,” she said, her voice hoarse.

I didn’t wait. I scooped her into my arms, her legs wrapping instinctively around my waist, and carried her down the hallway. She buried her face in my neck, placing hot, open-mouthed kisses along my jaw. I was already hard as hell, every muscle straining with the effort of holding back.

When I kicked the door open and laid her on the bed, I took a second to just stare.

Rowan March, flushed and wild, hair tousled, lips kiss-bruised, and looking at me like I was the only man in the world.

“You okay?” My voice came out rough as gravel.

She nodded, breath ragged. “More than okay. But you’re wearing too many clothes.”

I smirked and shucked off my jeans and boxers in one quick move. Her eyes widened. “Damn.”

I climbed over her, kissing a trail up her thigh, her hip, her stomach, until I reached the waistband of her leggings. I peeled them down slowly, kissing every inch of skin as it was revealed.

“You’re so beautiful,” I said against her hipbone. “I can’t get enough of you.”

She moaned, hips arching as I kissed lower, letting my tongue tease where she was already slick and aching. I licked once, slow and deliberate, then again, swirling until her thighs trembled.

“Dane,” she gasped, grabbing the sheets. “Oh my god?—”

I flattened my tongue, giving her everything. Her hips bucked, breath shuddering as I worked her toward the edge. I slid one finger inside, curling just right, and that was it.

She shattered.

Head thrown back, mouth open in a silent scream, thighs clenching around my shoulders as she came apart. I didn’t stop. I held her through every wave, every gasp, every tremble.

When she finally collapsed against the mattress, boneless and dazed, I crawled up her body and kissed her slow and deep.

“That was…” she whispered, blinking up at me.

“Just the beginning.”

She reached between us, wrapped her hand around me, and guided me home.

I sank into her in one long, slow stroke. Her eyes widened, mouth falling open, and she gripped my shoulders tight.

“Dane—”

“I’ve got you, baby.”

We moved together slowly at first. I kissed her again and again, whispered how perfect she was, how good she felt, how I never wanted this to end.

She dug her nails into my back and rocked up to meet me, gasping with every thrust.

Faster. Deeper. Hotter.

Sweat slicked our skin, the only sounds the slap of flesh, the catch of breath, the soft whimpering moans she couldn’t seem to hold back.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered. “Please.”

“Never,” I growled, driving into her harder, pushing her toward the edge again. Her muscles clenched around me, and I knew she was close.

“Come for me, Rowan.”

She did with a strangled cry and a full-body quake that dragged me right over the edge with her. I groaned her name as I spilled into her, kissing her through the aftershocks.

After, we tangled together, her cheek on my chest, her fingers lightly skimming across my skin. “I should’ve let you in sooner,” she whispered.

I kissed the top of her head. “You let me in exactly when you were ready.”

She didn’t say anything else, just tightened her grip on me like she wasn’t planning on letting go.

And that was fine with me because I wasn’t going anywhere.