Page 11 of Snug with the Mountain Man (Fall for a Mountain Man #12)

Chapter eleven

Maisie

The drive back to the cabin feels longer than it should. Ford’s hand rests on the gearshift, fingers flexing in time with the rumble of the engine. Every once in a while, his knuckles brush my knee, and each time it happens, heat curls low in my stomach.

Outside, the mountains are quiet, burnished gold under the fading afternoon light, but inside the truck, everything feels tense. We don’t talk much. We don’t need to. After the way he kissed me at the cider festival —openly, publicly —I know what this silence means.

Still, the words in my head are louder than the radio.

What if this is too much? Too fast? What if I’m only clinging to him because I don’t know what comes next?

When he turns onto the narrow lane that leads to my cabin, I finally speak. “Ford?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t want to ruin this.”

He glances over. “You won’t.”

I whisper. “I’m scared.”

He slows, pulls onto the shoulder, and shifts the truck into park. The engine idles, the smell of pine drifting through the vents.

“Tell me.” His voice is quiet, not demanding, an invitation.

I twist in my seat, staring at the calloused hand resting between us. “What if I’m not really falling for you? What if I’m just lost? I came home because I didn’t know what else to do, and now I’m here. With you. And it feels so good it’s blinding.”

He’s silent for a moment. Then he exhales slowly, like he’s been holding that breath since the day we saw each other again.

“Maisie, listen to me.” He turns fully, his knee brushing mine. “You’re not lost. You’re figuring things out. There’s a difference.”

“I feel like I’ve been spinning my wheels for months,” I admit. “I don’t know where I’m going.”

He reaches over and cups the side of my face. “Then I’ll walk with you until you find out.”

That simple. That steady.

Something breaks open in my chest. “You mean that?”

“I see you, Maisie. All of you. The smart parts. The scared parts. The parts you try to hide.” His thumb strokes my jaw, rough and gentle all at once. “You don’t have to have a plan for me to want you. Whatever you decide to do next, I’m behind you. One hundred percent.”

The honesty in his voice hits deeper than I expect. “You’re making it easy to believe in us.”

He smiles faintly. “Good.”

When he leans in to kiss me, it isn’t hurried. It’s slow, searching, like he’s making sure I have time to change my mind. The moment our lips meet, all that worry dissolves. His mouth is warm and certain, his hand slides into my hair, anchoring me.

As we separate, Ford quickly turns the truck back on and drives quickly to the cabin.

He closes the door behind us, and the sound echoes through the quiet house. The fire from earlier still smolders in the hearth, throwing a low orange glow across the room.

He starts to say something, but I press a finger to his lips. “Show me,” I whisper.

He nods once.

He takes his time, tracing my collarbone with the tips of his fingers, brushing a kiss to the hollow of my throat, unhurriedly tugging my sweater over my head. Every move feels perfect.

When his mouth finds mine again, I gasp, threading my fingers through his hair. His stubble scrapes my skin, rough and perfect. He smells like cedar and rain-damp flannel, and when he breathes my name, it’s half prayer, half growl.

He lifts me easily, setting me on the edge of the table. My legs part around him, pulling him close. We move together slowly, rhythm building, hands exploring, laughter catching between kisses.

He whispers against my mouth, “You still scared?”

“Only of you stopping.”

“Not a chance.”

Ford’s mouth brushes mine, slow and hungry, his fingers curling around the back of my neck like he’s afraid I’ll slip away. I press in, kissing him harder, until our lips are slick and open, our breathing tangled.

“You keep looking at me like that,” I whisper, teasing, “like you’re starving.”

His voice rumbles low. “That’s because I am.”

His hands travel down, rough palms grazing my breasts, my ribs, and my hips. His mouth drops to my collarbone, pressing kisses across the skin, soft at first, then sharper as he reaches the side of my neck. I gasp, my fingers diving into his hair.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, voice gravel and heat. “Always have been.”

I work at the buttons of his flannel shirt, tugging them open and pushing it from his shoulders. He’s warm and solid under my hands, chest dusted with hair, muscles tense with restraint.

I trail kisses across his chest, slow and teasing, until he groans, catching my wrist. He quickly carries me to my bedroom and sits me on the edge of the bed.

“Maisie.” His eyes burn into mine. “Lie back.”

I do. On the bed, with my legs hanging off the edge and his big body between my thighs.

He kneels between my thighs, brushing his fingers over my skin, watching every reaction, every shift of my hips, every hitched breath.

His mouth follows, lower and lower, each kiss like a claim. My back arches. My thighs part.

His tongue traces a path through my wet lips and circles around my clit. He’s gentle at first and then eats me like a man who's been starving.

My thighs tighten involuntarily around his head. I feel just on the brink of finding release, and when he inserts first one and then another finger into me and curls them just right into the magic spot, I come undone.

I’m shaking when he pulls back, kissing his way up my body.

I push him gently to his back, and he doesn’t resist. He lies back, and I begin taking off his pants. Once they’re off, I slide down his body, lips at his throat, chest, stomach, taking my time. His eyes flash, surprised and aroused. “You trying to kill me, sweetheart?”

I wrap my hand around his big, thick cock and gently kiss the head. Then I lose control. I deepthroat his delicious dick and worship him with my mouth.

I’m lost in the feeling of power and desire. I want to make him feel as good as I do.

He swears, fists clenched in the sheets. “Get up here,” he growls.

I straddle his hips, and for a moment, we breathe, him looking up at me like I’m everything, me realizing I want this man more than anything I’ve ever wanted.

He grips my hips, lifting, aligning.

I ride him, slow at first, then harder as the pleasure builds. Ford’s hands roam, gripping my ass, then sliding up to cup my breasts. His mouth finds mine, all tongue and teeth and need.

When he flips us again, pinning me beneath him, I moan, helpless and wanting.

“You’re mine,” he whispers. “You hear me?”

“I’m yours,” I breathe. “God, Ford, don’t stop.”

My body is sore in the best way, muscles melted, breath still catching now and then from aftershocks that roll through me like ripples across a lake.

Ford hasn’t let me go.

His arms are around me, one hand low on my back, fingers splayed wide. His lips brush my temple, then my cheekbone. Slow. Reverent. As if he’s memorizing every inch of me, not just with his body, but with his heart.

I tip my head to look at him. His jaw is rough with stubble, his mouth soft from kissing me senseless. His eyes meet mine, and everything else fades.

He swallows. “Maisie,” he says, voice low and a little wrecked, “I’m in love with you.”

The world stills.

No teasing grin. No gruff sarcasm. Just truth, laid bare.

My breath catches. “You, what?”

He lifts a hand, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “You heard me. I’ve been trying to find the right time to tell you. Thought it was too soon. Thought I’d scare you off. But I can’t keep it in anymore.” His thumb brushes my jaw. “You’re it for me.”

A lump rises in my throat.

“Ford…”

He leans in, kissing the corner of my mouth. “You don’t have to say it back yet. I just needed you to know.”

I say it back because I feel it, deep in my bones. In every touch, every breath, every time I looked at him and felt something bloom where I thought nothing ever would again.

I press my hand to his chest, right over his heart.

“I love you too,” I whisper. “God, I think I’ve loved you since I was sixteen. But now… it’s different. It’s more.”

His exhale is shaky.

I lean in, kiss him soft and slow. “You didn’t scare me off,” I murmur against his lips. “You made me feel safe. Wanted. Like I belong here. With you.”

Ford kisses me like he’s sealing it, threading his fingers into my hair and pulling me closer until there’s not an inch between us. No fear, no doubt. Just love, raw and honest.

We lie there for a long time, tangled up in each other, hearts thudding in sync.

And when sleep finally takes us, it’s with his hand over my heart and his breath warm against my neck.