Page 9 of Rugged Mountain Man (Cold Mountain Nights #1)

Mika - Six Months Later

I sat by the bedroom window with the sweetly scented spring breeze washing over me.

Turning my face into the sun, I closed my eyes and basked in the warmth.

Below me, the clearing was full of wildflowers, butterflies, and bird feeders that Cormac had put out at my request. The trees were lush and green.

I adjusted the skirts of my wedding dress, smoothing the fabric over my lap. My life had completely changed in only six months. Sometimes, I couldn’t believe it had actually happened.

I was going back to school so I could be a counselor for other women escaping abusive relationships like I did. I filed a report with the police about the abuse I’d suffered at Brock’s hands, too.

Cormac had started a carpentry business with Raff, and he usually came home covered in sawdust, smelling like lumber and gasoline, sweeping me into a bear hug with an enthusiastic kiss, even when the work left him sore and exhausted.

And today…

Today, I was marrying the man of my dreams. My soulmate. The love of my life.

Everything was…perfect. This is exactly what I wanted, for as long as I could remember.

Someone knocked at the door with a quick rap.

“Come in,” I called.

Raff poked his head in, wearing a snug cream-colored Henley that hugged his trim figure well. Cormac and I had decided on informal attire for our wedding, mostly because wrangling mountain men into tuxedos was impossible.

“Look at you,” he said with a wolf whistle of appreciation.

I laughed and gave him a twirl. The skirts of my wedding gown flared out, sparkling like ice crystals.

“Stunning,” Raff said, kissing my cheek. “Mac will be busting his buttons with pride to see you.”

“Do you really think so?” I asked.

Cormac called me beautiful and gorgeous every day, but I still struggled to believe it sometimes. No one else had ever called me that before. When I looked in the mirror, sometimes I felt like I was being torn in two.

The past scars were still there, memories that haunted my mind, though they had faded by now. Memories of the hurtful, hateful things Brock had said to me, about my weight, my size, about how difficult it was to love me.

But the future was there in the mirror too, bright and hopeful in my eyes with what awaited me as I built a life with Cormac. He didn’t see my flaws, didn’t point out how I wasn’t enough. He saw my smile and my curves. He saw a wife and a mother to his future children.

Raff held out his arm to me.

“I hope you know,” he said. “As soon as you officially become my sister-in-law, that makes us siblings. Which means I have the privilege to pester the shit out of you from now on.”

I beamed, squeezing his arm with gratitude.

“I always wanted a brother.”

“Ah, buttering me up already,” Raff replied with a chuckle. “You and I will get along just fine.”

I chuckled as he led me from the bedroom and out to the backyard. The porch was decorated with fairy lights and apple blossoms. A cloud of white petals drifted on the wind like snowflakes.

Cormac waited for me there, with a small gathering of friends from town.

“For the love of God, please marry that man already,” Raff told me. “He won’t shut up about how excited he is to call you wife .”

Cormac held his hands out to me. I crossed the porch and placed my palms in his. For the past two weeks, I had agonized over writing my own vows, but those words I had diligently practiced flew out of my head as soon as I saw him.

He looked so handsome in a crisp white button-down shirt and a brand new pair of boots.

A streak of silver had begun to color his temples, and there were more laugh lines around his eyes than before.

He’d softened a bit around the middle too, thanks to our tradition of pancake stacks for breakfast every Sunday morning.

Cormac’s gaze swept over me from head to toe, pupils dark with desire. I knew what that look meant. If we didn’t have guests, this dress would have been on the floor in five seconds flat.

The ceremony and our vows were a hazy blur, and when it was over, I would barely remember what happened. But I would never forget the way Cormac slid the ring on my finger. My heart soared and my head cleared and the world lit up with the brightest colors.

I was home. I was loved. At last.

During the reception, amid the hum of conversation and the glasses of bubbly champagne, Cormac never stopped holding my hand. Even when he was turned away, talking to someone else, or ribbing Raff about his bachelorhood, Cormac kept his fingers interlaced with mine.

Was he worried I would run away? Did he think this was all a dream—too good to be true—and it would disappear as soon as he woke up?

Or maybe he was so relieved to finally find the love he never thought he’d have, and now he couldn’t bear the thought of letting go. Even for a moment.

As the guests began to trickle out the door, I wrapped my arms around Cormac, hugging him from behind.

My husband, I thought with a smile. I have a husband now.

Cormac took me by the wrist and turned in my embrace, kissing my temple. He dipped his mouth to my ear.

“If these people don’t hurry up and leave so I can be alone with my bride,” he whispered. “I’m going to lose my mind.”

I laughed, nuzzling into his neck with a kiss. I caught Raff’s eye and circled my finger in the air, signaling to wrap this up. He clapped his hands to get the attention of the last lingering guests.

“Okay, folks, the party is over,” he announced. “Clear out and head home. In about nine months from now, you’ll be receiving a letter in the mail that says I’m going to be an uncle.”

At last, Cormac and I were finally alone. He cupped my face in his hands and kissed me so deeply that I couldn’t breathe. Standing in the open space of the living room, he unzipped the back of my dress, trailing his lips along the slope of my neck until goosebumps rippled across my skin.

He stripped me down to my lacy bra and panties, leaving me exposed before him. But I didn’t shy away from his hungry gaze, didn’t hide myself or attempt to cover up my body.

Because Cormac cherished every inch of my curves. Any chance he could get, he took the opportunity to touch me, to fill his hands with my breasts, my thighs, my belly.

To the wrong man, I was never enough.

To my husband, he couldn’t keep his hands off his beloved wife.

Cormac hooked his fingers into my panties and peeled them aside, smoothing his palm over my hip, squeezing my ass. The grit of his zipper rasped in the silence.

“Bend over, baby,” he said.

I braced my elbows on the arm of the couch with a little wiggle I know he liked. He swore under his breath with a groan.

Then I felt the heavy drag of his cock between my lips, nudging just inside my entrance. Cormac placed his strong hands on my hips, fingertips digging into my soft flesh.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect, KitKat,” he murmured, sinking his cock deep into my pussy with a growl of satisfaction.

My eyes rolled back in my head at the sensation of nothing between us. I stopped taking birth control months ago, and we hadn’t been using condoms for weeks. Any day now, I expected to have good news to tell him that a baby was on the way.

When Cormac slid his palm up my spine, curling his fingers into my hair with a light tug, I closed my eyes with a smile.

I felt exquisite under his touch. Adored. He brought me so much pleasure, happiness, and love that I thought I would burst at the seams from it all.

For years, I had been starved of love, affection, begging for a single crumb of belonging.

Now, I had more than I could have ever asked for.

Cormac pulled me up and back against him, burying his cock into my pussy and grinding, circling his hips.

I guided one of his hands to my breasts, unashamed of asking for what I wanted, what I needed most. I guided his other hand between my thighs to my clit.

He didn’t need my direction—he knew how to touch and tease my body until I was flying high, strung out on the sweetest ecstasy.

But there was a thrill in telling Cormac how I wanted to be touched. To take control of my desire and show him exactly what I loved about the way he worshipped me.

I had suffered under a man’s hands once.

This man’s hands—my husband’s hands—surrounded me with nothing but adoration, and I intended to bask in every second of it until I was old and gray.

When my orgasm swelled and crested through my body, Cormac came, too, pumping his cock inside me with a growl.

I’ll never get tired of this, I thought.

Joined together so completely that nothing separated us. And a lack of condom seemed to turn Cormac into a primal beast. He was still hard, still managing a few uneven thrusts despite the whimper of overstimulation that rose in my throat.

“Don’t tell me you’re tapping out already, KitKat,” he murmured in my ear. “We’re just getting started. My wife wants a baby—six of them, in fact. And I intend to give her everything she wants.”

I gasped as Cormac dropped onto the couch and pulled me into his lap, driving his cock into me again. He sucked my nipple into his mouth, squeezing my ass and rocking my hips when I was too tired to move.

I wrapped my arms around him and kissed the top of his head.

If this was what married life had in store for me, I was going to be the happiest woman in the world.