Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 29299 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 146(@200wpm)___ 117(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29299 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 146(@200wpm)___ 117(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
“Mm, I’m so close. I’m going to fill you with my cum.” His muscles tense and shake, his thick seed pouring into me in pulsing waves, before he rolls off and pulls me to him.
“You okay?” He places a soft kiss at my shoulder.
“More than okay. Sex with you feels beyond anything I could imagine even existed before. Not just physically but in my head and heart too.” I hum, smiling into his chest.
“So it sounds like you’re saying I fucked you into another universe.” He trails kisses down my arm, doting on me with his lips.
“I think that makes you my sex God.” I giggle.
“I think you’re right.”
“And I’m happy to be your slave.” I kiss and suck at his neck.
“Did we do anything that was too much for you?” His hands pull my head gently up so he can look into my eyes.
“No,” I say shaking my head, “I liked it. It felt amazing. I’m not sure what that says about me though.” Shame creeps into my mind.
“It means you’re fucking sexy as hell. Over time we can explore more things together.” He kisses the top of my head, then hauls me on top of him. I hear the pounding of his heart against my ear, letting the peace and calm of this man shroud me in warmth and acceptance.
I’ve never in my life felt so loved and cherished.
I had no idea that the day I ran into the back of this man’s truck would be the start of my forever, right here in Devil’s Peak with my very own mountain man.
Epilogue
Sawyer
three months later
I’ve run into burning buildings without hesitation.
I’ve cut through doors with a chainsaw while the roof threatened to collapse.
I’ve carried strangers out of smoke thick enough to blind a man.
None of it compares to standing on the rooftop of Devil’s Peak Fire & Rescue in a dress shirt that suddenly feels too tight, waiting for the woman who changed my life to arrive on a fire engine.
The guys insisted.
“Full spectacle,” Axel said.
“She’s marrying a firefighter,” Ash added. “We’re doing it right.”
So here I am. Rooftop deck strung with white lights. Mountain range stretching behind us like a painted backdrop. Folding chairs lined up in uneven rows. Half the town gathered with lemonade and phones ready.
And me.
Thirty-seven years old.
Hands steady in a crisis.
Not steady now.
Ash nudges me with his elbow. “You look like you’re about to respond to a five-alarm.”
“I am,” I mutter.
He grins. “Relax. She already said yes.”
“Shut up.”
Below us, someone revs an engine.
The crowd shifts.
Music cuts.
Then the siren wails once — not emergency, just for show.
Every head turns toward the ladder truck rolling slowly into the parking lot below.
And there she is.
Standing on the back step like she owns the world.
White dress catching the late afternoon sun. Hair loose, wind tugging it free around her shoulders. Lacee standing beside her in a pale blue dress, grinning like she planned this entire production.
And at Tessa’s feet?
A Dalmatian.
The new puppy Sparks. Axel’s idea, apparently.
“Tradition,” he’d said.
The truck stops. The ladder lowers partway — not dramatic, just enough to make a point. The crowd laughs.
Tessa lifts her skirt slightly and climbs down carefully, Sparks hopping beside her, tail wagging like he understands the assignment.
My lungs forget how to function.
“She’s going to make you cry,” Ash whispers.
“I don’t cry.”
He snorts. “You absolutely do.”
She looks up.
Finds me.
And smiles.
It isn’t shy. It isn’t hesitant. It’s sure.
Six weeks ago, she stood on this same rooftop at a benefit and said yes to forever.
Tonight she’s walking toward me like she’s known all along.
Lacee takes her hand, guiding her toward the stairs that lead to the roof.
The small crowd starts clapping rhythmically.
Axel leans in. “You good?”
“No,” I say honestly.
He grins. “Perfect.”
The rooftop door opens.
First Lacee appears in a flowing soft pink dress, glowing and proud.
Then Tessa steps out.
Everything else fades.
She doesn’t look delicate. She looks powerful. Like she chose this. Like she chose me.
The wind lifts her veil slightly. The mountains behind her glow gold in the late sun. Sparks trots ahead, then circles back like he’s escorting royalty.
She walks down the aisle slowly. Every step lands in my chest.
When she reaches me, she doesn’t look at the officiant.
She looks at me.
“You clean up well,” she murmurs.
My mouth curves. “You’re late.”
She arches an eyebrow. “I arrived on a fire engine.”
“Fair.”
Her eyes soften just a little. “You okay?”
“I am now.”
Her fingers slide into mine.
The officiant clears his throat. The ceremony begins. Words about partnership. About choosing each other daily. About building something not in place of the past — but alongside it.
I don’t drift.
I don’t brace.
I stay.
When it’s my turn to speak, I don’t look at the crowd.
I look at her.
“I thought loving again meant losing something,” I say, voice carrying in the open air. “I thought it meant letting go of what I had.”