Page 7 of Mountain Man’s Hayride Honey (Wildwood Valley Harvest #4)

CALLIOPE

T he positive pregnancy test was still on the counter.

Baby number four. The thought might overwhelm someone else, but not Clayton and me. We’d always said we wanted a big family, and somehow, three kids had never felt quite complete.

I just hadn’t expected it to happen quite so soon after opening my jewelry store.

Calliope’s Creations had been a dream ten years in the making.

What started as festival booth jewelry had grown into custom pieces and wedding sets.

The store had been open for exactly three months, and now I was pregnant again.

I smiled, running my hands over my still-flat stomach. Clayton was going to be thrilled.

“Mommy!” Eva’s voice carried down the hallway, followed by the thunder of three pairs of feet running toward the kitchen.

I quickly tucked the test into the medicine cabinet. Tonight was our tenth wedding anniversary, and I wanted to tell Clayton in a special way.

“Calliope!” Clayton’s voice boomed from the kitchen. “Your children are attempting to make pancakes without supervision.”

I found Clayton standing in the doorway, flour covering every surface, including our eight-year-old son Caden, who was wielding a whisk like a conductor’s baton.

“We wanted to make anniversary pancakes,” our six-year-old, Lily, said.

Clayton wrapped his arms around me. “Happy anniversary, darlin’.”

Ten years, and that word still made my heart skip a beat.

“About tonight,” he said. “Marc and Cecelia are coming over at seven to watch the kids. We have plans.”

“What kind of plans?” I asked.

“The kind that involves recreating our first date.” His grin was pure mischief. “Got the same hay wagon, same route, same everything.”

My heart stopped. “Clayton, you didn’t.”

“Oh, but I did.”

After Marc and Cecelia arrived with movies and popcorn, Clayton and I walked hand in hand toward his truck, hitched to the familiar hay wagon. “It’s been a long time since we did this,” I said as he started the engine.

“Ten years.”

“A lot has changed.”

He reached over and took my hand. “The important things haven’t changed.”

When we reached the same clearing where we’d stopped that first night, he parked and turned off the engine. Above us, the stars were brilliant in the mountain sky.

We climbed into the hay wagon, which he’d lined with blankets and pillows. Soft solar lights were strung around the edges.

“This is perfect,” I breathed, settling beside him.

“Not yet, it isn’t.” He pulled me closer. “But it’s about to be.”

His lips found mine, and just like that, we were discovering each other all over again. Except now I knew exactly how those hands would feel, knew every sound he made, knew he would worship every inch of me.

“I love you,” I whispered against his lips.

“I love you too. More now than I did then.”

“Clayton,” I said, remembering my secret. “I have something to tell you.”

“Can it wait?” he asked, his mouth moving to my neck. “Because I’ve been thinking about getting you naked under these stars all day.”

I laughed, feeling my nervousness melt away. “It can wait a little while.”

“Good,” he growled, his hands already working on my dress buttons. “I plan to take my time with you tonight.”

The golden light of sunset spilled over the fields as the hay wagon rocked gently with our movements.

The scent of warm earth and dry straw was thick in the air.

We were alone, finally—no chores, no children calling, just the two of us tangled together in the back of the wagon, hands roaming, lips hungry.

His mouth was hot on my skin, trailing kisses down my throat, my collarbone, lower.

I arched against him as he peeled away my clothes, his fingers rough with need but tender all the same.

When his hands cupped my breasts, my breath hitched, and when his tongue flicked over my nipple, I moaned, fingers knotting in his hair.

“God, I need you,” he growled, his voice rough with desire.

I pushed him back, stripping him bare, my hands stroking down his chest, his stomach, lower still until I wrapped my fingers around his hard length. He hissed through his teeth, hips jerking into my touch.

But I had other plans.

With a wicked smile, I stretched out on the hay, legs parting, and his eyes darkened with hunger.

He didn’t hesitate. His mouth was on me, tongue licking a slow, torturous path up my slit before circling my clit.

I gasped, back bowing as pleasure shot through me, my fingers gripping the rough blanket beneath us.

He knew my body too well, knew just how to tease, to press, to flick his tongue in that maddening rhythm that had me trembling. When he slid a finger inside me, I let out a cry, my orgasm crashing over me in waves.

But he wasn’t done with me yet.

Before I could catch my breath, I straddled him, sinking down onto his cock with a gasp. He filled me perfectly, stretching me, completing me. His hands gripped my hips as I rocked against him, riding him slow and deep, then faster, harder, my nails digging into his chest.

His gaze burned into mine, watching as I touched myself, fingers circling my clit again, chasing another release. The sight of me pleasuring myself while I rode him made him groan, his grip tightening.

“Come for me again,” he demanded, voice rough.

I did, crying out as my second orgasm ripped through me, clenching around him. The sensation was too much. With a growl, he thrust up into me once, twice more before spilling inside me, his release hot and deep.

Breathless, I collapsed against his chest, our skin slick with sweat. His arms wrapped around me, holding me close as our hearts slowed.

I traced idle patterns on his skin before smiling against his shoulder.

“We’re going to need a bigger house,” I said.

He stilled, then pulled back to look at me. “What?”

My grin widened. “Another baby. Coming soon.”

For a moment, he just stared—then he laughed, pulling me into a fierce kiss. “Best damn news I’ve ever heard.”

And as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of fire, we lay tangled together, perfectly content, knowing our love—and our family—would only keep growing.