Page 8 of Trusting the Grumpy Mountain Man (Forbidden In Fall Mountain Man #1)

The rough praise melts any remaining reservations. I reach for him, tugging at his shirt until he pulls it over his head in one smooth motion. The sight of his bare chest stops my breath. Muscled and tanned, marred by scars that tell stories of the fires he's fought, both literal and metaphorical.

I place my palm over his heart, feeling its strong, steady beat beneath warm skin. "You're beautiful too."

A laugh rumbles through him. "Not the word most people use."

"Most people aren't seeing what I'm seeing." I lean forward to press my lips to his collarbone, emboldened by his response to my touch.

His hands come to my waist, lifting me off the desk as if I weigh nothing. "Bed," he says, voice strained. "Your first time deserves better than a desk."

He carries me to the small bedroom, my legs wrapped around his waist, his mouth never leaving mine for long. When he lays me on the bed, the tenderness in the gesture contrasts with the barely restrained power in his body.

He stands looking down at me, chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. "Last chance to change your mind, Riley."

I sit up, reaching behind me to unclasp my bra. "I don't want to change my mind."

The bra falls away, and Jax makes a sound low in his throat, somewhere between a groan and a growl.

He kneels on the bed, one hand cupping my breast while his mouth claims the other.

The sensation of his tongue against my nipple sends lightning through my veins, arching my back to press more firmly against him.

"So responsive," he murmurs against my skin. "So perfect."

His praise emboldens me. I reach for his belt, fumbling slightly with the buckle until he helps me, stripping down to his boxers before turning his attention to my remaining clothes. Each newly exposed inch of skin receives attention from his hands and mouth, worshipping rather than rushing.

When we're both down to our underwear, he pulls back, studying my face. "I want to make this good for you," he says, voice rough with restraint. "But this is a big decision, so I’ll ask one last time. Are you sure you’re ready?"

I reach for him, drawing him back to me. "I want you, Jax. All of you."

Something primal flashes in his eyes before he claims my mouth again, this kiss deeper, hungrier than before. His hand slides down my stomach to the edge of my panties, hesitating until I nod, granting permission he doesn't need but waits for anyway.

When his fingers slip beneath the fabric, finding the center of my desire, I gasp against his mouth. He touches me with knowing confidence, circling and stroking until pleasure builds like a gathering storm. My hips move instinctively, seeking more of the sensation he creates so effortlessly.

"That's it," he encourages, watching my face as he increases the pressure. "Let go for me, Riley."

The intensity builds until it crests, washing over me in waves that leave me trembling and breathless. He works me through it, gentling his touch as the aftershocks subside.

"Beautiful," he whispers, pressing kisses to my temple, my cheeks, my lips. "So beautiful watching you come apart."

He slides my panties down my legs, leaving me completely exposed to his gaze. The reverence in his expression makes me feel powerful instead.

"I want to make this as painless as possible," he says, reaching into the bedside drawer for a condom. "We'll go slow."

I watch, fascinated, as he removes his boxers and rolls the condom on. His body is magnificent, powerful and hard with need, intimidating in its size yet somehow perfect for me.

He settles between my thighs, his weight supported on his forearms. "Tell me if I hurt you," he says, voice tight with restraint. "We can stop anytime."

"I'm not fragile." I wrap my legs around his hips, drawing him closer.

"No," he agrees, positioning himself at my entrance. "But you are precious."

He pushes forward slowly, giving my body time to adjust to the unfamiliar intrusion. There's pressure and a brief sting that makes me tense, but he stills immediately, murmuring encouragement against my ear.

"Breathe through it," he instructs, pressing kisses to my face. "I promise it gets better."

I focus on his voice, the tenderness in his touch as he strokes my hair, my sides, anywhere he can reach. When I nod, he begins to move again, easing forward until he's fully seated within me.

The fullness is strange but not unpleasant. As he begins to move, withdrawing slightly before pushing back in, discomfort gives way to new sensations. Each thrust brings less pain and more pleasure, building toward something I can sense but can't quite reach.

"You feel incredible," he groans, pace increasing as my body welcomes him more easily. "So tight, so perfect around me."

His words heighten my arousal, pushing me closer to that elusive peak. When his hand slips between us to find that sensitive bundle of nerves, stars explode behind my eyelids. I cry out his name as pleasure crashes through me, more intense than before.

He follows moments later, his rhythm faltering as his release claims him. The sound he makes, my name mixed with primal satisfaction, imprints itself on my memory forever.

Afterward, he holds me close, one arm wrapped protectively around my waist as we catch our breath. He presses kisses to my shoulder, my neck, anywhere he can reach without moving away.

"You okay?" he asks finally, his voice a rumble I feel against my back.

"More than okay." I turn in his arms to face him. "That was..."

"Just the beginning," he finishes, a promise in his voice.

The thought sends a shiver through me despite the warmth of his body. "I was supposed to leave tomorrow."

"Supposed to?" He traces patterns on my bare shoulder, his touch gentle yet possessive.

"My evaluation is complete," I acknowledge. "I could file my report from here. Stay a few more days."

His eyes darken with satisfaction. "I think that's an excellent idea."

"You do?"

"I'm not ready to let you go yet, Riley Chaffeur." He brushes his lips against mine. "Not when I've just found you."

The simple declaration shouldn't affect me so deeply. We've known each other less than a week. Yet something about this man, this place, has fundamentally shifted my understanding of what matters.

"I'm not ready to go either," I admit, resting my palm against his chest.

He covers my hand with his own, pressing it more firmly against his heart. "Good."

We stay like that, connected and quiet, until desire builds again. This time when he touches me, there's less caution, more certainty. I respond with growing confidence, learning his body as he's learned mine.

When we come together again, it's with the familiarity of lovers who've known each other far longer than three days. This instant connection with Jax is different from anyone I've ever known. Like finding something I didn't know I was missing.

Later, wrapped in his arms as sleep beckons, I realize what should have been a simple evaluation has become life-altering.

Whatever I write in my report, whatever happens when I return to Sacramento, I am changed.

By this place. By these teens. By this man who shows me there are many ways to measure success, to define safety, to create change.

"What are you thinking about so hard?" Jax murmurs against my hair.

"Everything," I admit. "My report. The program. Us."

"One thing at a time." He presses a kiss to my temple. "Report first. The rest will follow."

His assurance eases my mind. I fall asleep wondering how I'll explain in my report that sometimes breaking the rules leads to exactly where you need to be.