Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 39414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 197(@200wpm)___ 158(@250wpm)___ 131(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 197(@200wpm)___ 158(@250wpm)___ 131(@300wpm)
I snort softly. “I own a chocolate shop. I run every day.”
He nips lightly at my skin—just enough to make my breath hitch. “Not like today.”
I open my eyes and turn my head. “What do you mean?”
Wyatt’s gaze holds mine, steady. “Today you stood in front of your mother and didn’t flinch.”
My throat tightens. “I flinched.”
Wyatt shakes his head. “Not the way you used to.”
I swallow hard. “Because I’m tired of being small.”
Wyatt’s mouth curves. “You’ve never been small.”
I scoff. “Tell that to my family.”
Wyatt’s hand spreads over my belly, protective. “I don’t care what they think.”
“You would’ve,” I say quietly. “Back then.”
Wyatt’s eyes soften, just a fraction. “Back then I thought I had to be worthy of you.”
My breath catches. “Wyatt…”
He exhales and leans his forehead to mine. “I fell first,” he says again, like it’s still the truest thing he’s ever admitted. “And I spent too long trying to bury it.”
I cup his jaw, thumb brushing his beard. “Then stop burying.”
Wyatt’s gaze drops to my mouth. “I did.”
I kiss him.
It starts slow, sweet, familiar—then deepens the way it always does with us, hunger catching like a spark in dry pine.
Wyatt’s hands tighten at my waist, and he pulls me onto his lap against the rock ledge, water spilling around us. He looks at me like I’m the only thing he’s ever wanted.
I breathe out, shaky. “You’re staring.”
Wyatt’s voice is low. “I’m memorizing.”
I try to sound flippant, but it comes out breathy. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Wyatt’s eyes go dark. “I know.”
His mouth claims mine again—slow, possessive, all-consuming—until my hands are in his hair and my body is arching into him without dignity.
He pulls back just enough to murmur against my lips, “You okay?”
I nod, swallowing. “Yes.”
His hand slides to my belly, gentler now. He presses a kiss there, reverent.
“I’ll remind you every day,” he says, voice rough with feeling. “You’re my forever bride.”
My throat tightens. “Wyatt…”
He looks up at me, eyes bright in the starlight. “I mean it. You chose me. I choose you back—every morning, every night, every time this family grows.”
I exhale a shaky laugh. “You’re going to make me cry.”
Wyatt’s mouth tilts. “Cry later.”
Then he kisses me again, and the mountain disappears.
Steam wraps around us. Stars burn overhead. Wyatt moves with slow, steady devotion, making me feel wanted and safe at the same time, like the two things were always meant to coexist.
When I gasp his name, he murmurs, “That’s it,” like praise.
When I clutch his shoulders, he holds me tighter, like I can’t fall.
And when the water ripples around us and my body shakes with pleasure and relief and love, Wyatt presses his forehead to mine and breathes, “Mine,” like it’s a prayer.
After, we stay in the hot spring with our bodies tangled, the cold air biting at our shoulders and the water keeping us warm.
Wyatt’s palm rests on my belly, thumb stroking slow circles.
I tilt my head, watching him. “You’re thinking.”
Wyatt’s mouth curves. “I’m calculating.”
I lift a brow. “That sounds dangerous.”
His eyes go wicked. “It is.”
I snort. “What are you calculating?”
Wyatt kisses my shoulder, then murmurs, “How many mountain babies we can make under these stars.”
I choke on a laugh. “Wyatt!”
He grins, unrepentant. “Maybe a dozen by the time we’re done.”
I smack his chest lightly. “We are not having twelve children.”
Wyatt’s hand tightens at my waist, pulling me closer. “You say that now.”
I glare at him, but I’m smiling. “I’m serious.”
Wyatt’s gaze drags down my face like he’s already decided my seriousness is adorable. “So am I.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re insane.”
Wyatt kisses my mouth, slow and deep. “You married me anyway.”
I pull back, breathless. “I did.”
Wyatt’s eyes soften, just a fraction. “And you’d do it again.”
I cup his jaw, thumb brushing his beard. “I would.”
Wyatt’s hand presses to my belly, steady and warm. “Good.”
Then he kisses me again under the stars, and the mountain keeps our secret like it always has. Like it always will. Forever.
The End