Page 4 of Tension with the Mountain Man (Silver Ridge Mountain Men #2)

four

Sally

The next evening, I find myself standing on Tucker's porch, holding a bottle of wine and feeling more nervous than I have since my first day of residency.

I've changed clothes three times, settling on a simple green dress that brings out my eyes and makes me feel feminine in a way my scrubs never do.

Tucker opens the door before I can knock, and the appreciation in his gaze makes me glad I made the effort.

"You look beautiful," he says simply.

"Thank you." I hand him the wine, trying not to notice how the simple button-down shirt he's wearing emphasizes his broad chest. "I wasn't sure what to bring."

"This is perfect." He steps back to let me in, and I get my first real look at his home.

It's not what I expected. The cabin is modest but comfortable, with dark furniture and shelves lined with books. Safety manuals, yes, but also literature, history, philosophy. A chess set sits on a small table by the window, a game in progress.

"You play?" I ask, nodding toward the board.

"With myself, mostly. Hard to find opponents in Silver Ridge who enjoy thinking several moves ahead."

"I play."

His eyebrows rise. "Really?"

"Medical school was stressful. Chess helped me think strategically, plan ahead." I study the board, noting the sophisticated positioning. "You're good."

"We'll have to play sometime."

"I'd like that."

He leads me to the kitchen, where something delicious is simmering on the stove. "Hope you like stew. It's about the extent of my culinary skills."

"It smells amazing."

We work together to finish dinner preparations, and I'm struck by how easy it feels. Natural. Like we've done this dozens of times before. Tucker moves around his kitchen and I find myself watching his hands as he work—strong, capable hands that are surprisingly gentle.

"Tell me about your brother," I say as we sit down to eat.

His expression grows somber. "What about him?"

"You mentioned he died young. Is that why you became the safety coordinator?"

Tucker is quiet for a long moment, and I wonder if I've pushed too far. Then he starts talking, and I realize he's telling me something he's never shared with anyone else.

"John was everything I wasn't," he says quietly. "Outgoing, fearless, the kind of guy everyone wanted to be around. He thought safety equipment was for weaklings, that real men didn't need rules to keep them alive."

"How old was he?"

"Nineteen. I was twenty-one, supposed to be watching out for him.

" His jaw tightens. "I wasn't there when it happened.

I was in town, dealing with equipment orders, paperwork.

John was working alone, cutting down a tree that should have required a two-man crew.

" He took a breath. “The tree kicked back.

Caught him across the chest, crushed his ribs, punctured both lungs.

By the time they found him and got him to the hospital.

.." He shakes his head. "I held his hand while he died.

Promised him I'd never let it happen to anyone else. "

My throat tightens with emotion. "I'm so sorry."

"Twenty-two years later, I'm still keeping that promise. Every safety meeting, every protocol I enforce, every time I pull a guy back from a dangerous situation—it's all for my brother."

"You honor his memory," I say softly. "Every day, with every life you save."

He looks up at me then, and I see something raw and vulnerable in his eyes. "You're the first person who's ever understood that."

The intimacy of the moment feels more significant than anything I've shared with a man before. This isn't just dinner conversation. This is Tucker trusting me with his deepest pain, his driving purpose.

"Thank you for telling me," I whisper.

We finish dinner in comfortable silence, but the air between us has changed. Charged. Every glance, every accidental brush of fingers when he refills my wine glass, sends electricity shooting through me.

"Sally," he says finally, his voice rougher than usual.

"Yeah?"

"I need you to know something."

My heart hammers against my ribs. "What?"

"This isn't casual for me. I know we just met, I know it's fast, but..." He reaches across the table to take my hand. "I can't stop thinking about you. Can't stop wanting to be near you, to protect you, to make you smile like you did in the diner yesterday."

The raw honesty in his voice makes my chest tight. "Tucker.”

"I know you're probably planning to leave Silver Ridge. I know you've got bigger opportunities waiting. But I need you to know that what I feel for you, it's not something that happens every day. It's not something I've ever felt before."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying I'm falling for you, Sally Jacobson. Hard and fast and completely." His thumb brushes across my knuckles. "And that terrifies me more than any tree or chainsaw or piece of faulty equipment ever has."

The confession hangs between us, raw and honest and impossibly brave. This strong, quiet man who's spent twenty-two years protecting others has just made himself completely vulnerable to me.

"I'm scared too," I admit. "I've never felt like this before. Like I can't breathe when you're not around, like my skin is too tight when you are."

"What are we doing?" he asks, echoing my own confusion.

"I don't know. But I don't want to stop."

That's all the permission he needs. He stands and comes around the table, pulling me up into his arms. When his mouth crashes down on mine, it's like coming home and losing my mind at the same time.

"Sally," he growls against my lips, and the sound sends liquid heat pooling low in my belly.

"Yes," I breathe, not even sure what I'm agreeing to. Just yes to everything, to whatever he wants, whatever this is between us.

He lifts me easily, my legs wrapping around his waist as he carries me down the hall. Halfway there, he presses me against the wall, grinding against me while his mouth attacks my neck.

"Fuck, Sally," he groans when I roll my hips against his erection.

In his room, he sets me down and immediately pulls my dress over my head. I'm fumbling with his shirt buttons until he just yanks it off. The rest of our clothes follow in a rushed tangle until we're both naked, breathing hard.

"You're incredible," he says, his eyes traveling over me with raw hunger.

He backs me toward the bed until my knees hit the mattress. I fall back and he follows, his weight pressing me into the sheets. When his mouth closes around my nipple, I arch up with a sharp cry.

"So sensitive," he murmurs, switching to the other breast while his hand slides between my thighs. "Already so wet for me."

His fingers find my clit, circling with just the right pressure. I'm embarrassingly close already when he slides two fingers inside me, curling them to hit that perfect spot.

"Tucker, oh God!"

"That's it. Come for me, Sally."

His thumb presses my clit while his fingers work inside me, and I shatter, clenching around his fingers as pleasure shoots through me. He doesn't let up, working me through it until I'm gasping and pushing at his shoulders.

"Need to taste you," he says, moving down my body.

His tongue replaces his fingers and I nearly jackknife off the bed. He pins my hips down, licking and sucking until I'm climbing again, impossibly fast.

"Please," I beg, not even sure what I'm asking for.

He knows. He sucks my clit into his mouth while his fingers pump inside me, and I come again, harder this time, my thighs clamping around his head as I ride it out.

When he crawls back up my body, his cock brushes against me and we both groan.

"I need you inside me," I tell him, reaching between us to wrap my hand around him. He's thick and hard, and when I stroke him, his hips jerk.

"Condom?" he asks through gritted teeth.

"I'm on the pill. I'm clean."

"Me too. Fuck, Sally, are you sure?"

Instead of answering, I guide him to my entrance. He pushes in slowly, stretching me, filling me completely. We both freeze when he's all the way in, adjusting to the intensity.

"You feel amazing," he breathes against my neck.

He starts moving, long deep strokes that hit every nerve ending. I wrap my legs around him, changing the angle so he hits deeper.

"Harder," I demand, raking my nails down his back.

He complies, picking up the pace, fucking me with an intensity that has the headboard hitting the wall. I'm making sounds I've never made before, completely lost in the sensation.

"Touch yourself," he commands. "I want to feel you come on my cock."

I reach between us, circling my clit while he drives into me.

"That's it," he encourages, his rhythm starting to falter. "Come for me, baby."

When I do, clenching hard around him, he follows immediately, groaning my name as he pulses inside me. We collapse together, sweaty and breathless.

"Jesus," I pant. "That was..."

"Yeah," he agrees, still buried inside me. "Give me ten minutes and we're doing that again."

He's true to his word. In no time, he has me on my hands and knees, one hand fisted in my hair while he takes me from behind, his other hand between my legs making me come so hard I nearly faint.

By the time we finally collapse back in bed as dawn breaks through the windows, I've lost count of my orgasms and every muscle in my body feels like jelly.

"Still scared?" he asks, pulling me against his chest.

"Terrified," I admit. "But I'm not running."

"Good. Because you're mine now, Sally. No taking it back."