BY THE MOUNTAIN MAN: The Complete Collection

by Love, Frankie

  “You’re the pilot?” I ask, looking at him and then at the tiny planes behind him. “Like, you’re going to fly us to your house?”

  “My cabin? Yeah. Now grab some of the groceries and I’ll get the luggage.”

  Holding the handles on the paper bags, I follow him to a small yellow plane docked at the edge of the lake. I didn’t expect the plane to be this small … which, okay, I can wrap my mind around that. But to entrust Silas with my life? I mean, I know he’s my husband, but I don’t know how I feel about him piloting me.

  “So how long have you been flying?”

  “All my life.”

  I walk down the dock in a pair of sandals, and I’ve been so distracted with the events of the last twenty-four hours that I’m just now realizing Silas is in some serious outdoor clothing—Carhartt jeans and heavy leather work boots, a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up. And this was what he chose to wear to his wedding day.

  Looking down at myself, I feel overdressed and underprepared. My little sundress feels silly, my shoes impractical. This whole thing feels ridiculous, climbing into a stranger’s plane and living as his wife.

  Looking at my ring, I’m reminded that I’m way too far in to back out now. We are legally husband and wife. We already made the commitment. And sure, I can always leave, get a divorce or an annulment—but not today.

  As scared as I am, watching Silas pick up my heavy suitcases with ease, his biceps flexing as he loads the cargo and checks the fuel, calms me. He raises his arms to finish packing the plane and his chiseled stomach comes into view. That bare strip of skin makes my heart go pitter-patter and my core belly-flop.

  There could be worse things than spending a wedding night with a man like him.

  Namely: being homeless, jobless, and friendless in Portland.

  “Ready to say good-bye to the city?” he asks, holding the plane door open for me, reaching for my hand to help me in.

  “What do you mean?” I climb into the passenger seat and see a slight frown on his face.

  “Anchorage. We won’t be back here for awhile.”

  “That’s okay. I’m excited to get to your place. To start the whole thing.”

  He nods, slamming the door shut and triple-checking that it’s secure.

  He jumps into the cockpit, as if he’s done this a thousand times. He starts the engine, moves around some dials and adjusts gears, and then we’re off.

  Silas is in command in the pilot seat. His powerful body fills up so much of the plane that I’m no longer questioning his ability to fly this thing. Everything about him exudes confidence and skill. I trust him with this.

  It’s just the other stuff that’s starting to overwhelm me. Namely, that I am actually his wife.

  I try to breathe, but it’s hard. If my heart was pitter-pattering before, it’s completely pounding now. My stomach rolls and my hands grip the door handle so tightly my knuckles turn white.

  “You okay?” he asks loudly, over the sound of the engine. I don’t trust myself to formulate coherent words, so I just nod, and focus on not getting sick.

  Not because I’m nauseated, but because as I look out the window at the majestic lake of water, the massive green trees, the mountains with their bright snow caps, and the glittering sun, I can’t help but think that this is all so far from home.

  Home. It’s not like I’ve had one since my parents died, since my grandparents died a few years later. I chose to come here and make a new home for myself. A new life. But as we fly farther away from Anchorage, the truth of what I’ve done settles into my chest, and it aches, this realization.

  I’m flying far from everything I’ve ever known, saying good-bye to a life I never really gave myself a chance to have.

  I hope Delta and Amelia are okay. Neither of them answered their phones this morning, and I left them messages, letting them know I loved them and hoped everything was okay, but maybe they don’t have reception where their husbands live.

  Last night, when Silas spread my legs, I could see the possibility of opening my heart to him, but now I feel parts of myself closing up again. Tears stream down my cheeks, and I turn towards my window as I wipe the tears away, not wanting Silas to see. I need to be brave, be strong.

  But as we fly, it becomes clear that we’re going somewhere remote, somewhere isolated. There’s no city, no town. We fly over dense forests, over enormous lakes.

  And then we’re landing.

  Silas maneuvers the plane over the crystal water, and it’s similar to the dock in Anchorage, except there are no other planes here.

  “I didn’t kill you.” He smirks.

  I raise my eyes. “I didn’t think you were going to.”

  “You seemed terrified, Everly. That entire flight, you were pale as a ghost.”

  “It’s been a big twenty-four hours. I just want to unpack and settle in.”

  “Good.” His eyes linger on mine, hesitating on something.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” He helps me out of the plane and we unload on the dock. He has a large cart at the end of the dock, and we fill it with our things.

  Before he shuts the door to the plane, he grabs a rifle from the back of the plane.

  “You carry a gun?” I ask, shaking my head. Apparently I was so overwhelmed by the views as we flew that I didn’t notice the rifle.

  Silas gives me a sidelong glance, shaking his head like I’m a fool. “’course I do, Everly. You never know what sort of emergency you might encounter out here. Which is why, until I teach you to shoot, you don’t need to be walking around by yourself. There are a lot of bears up here.”

  I bristle at his words, not liking to be told what I can or cannot do. Still, a shiver runs down my spine at the thought of coming across a bear in the wild.

  I follow him off the dock, noting how absolutely quiet it is here. How completely still. I don’t think I’ve ever been somewhere so silent.

  The lake is empty. No one is boating or waterskiing or fishing, and I wonder where his closest neighbor lives.

  We make our way down a well-trod path through the forest, and when he stops, I look up.

  “Welcome home, Everly.”

  My eyes go wide as I take in the … I don’t even know what to call it. A shack? A hunting cabin? A … hovel?

  I don’t know what to call this place … but it certainly is not a home.

  Chapter Eleven

  Silas

  I’m at the cabin, reaching to pull open the door, before I realize she isn’t following me anymore.

  “There a problem?” I ask.

  I swear I’ve been the perfect fucking gentleman all day. Gave her the goddamn useless ring, opened her door, even made sure I grabbed a few bottles of wine for her at the grocery store. I’m committed to not pissing her off the first day we’re married.

  But damn, she cried the whole plane ride, though she tried to hide it. And now she’s standing here, frozen. It may be a few years since I’ve had a woman, but shit, I don’t remember them acting like this.

  “Where are we?” Everly asks.

  “At my place.” I try not to sound annoyed, but I know my words are short. Going for the nice, new husband approach, I add, “Well, our place.”

  “I don’t understand,” she says. “I was told you were….”

  “That I was what?” I shake my head, not clear as to what she’s getting at.

  “Rich? Like … with the pre-nup and everything, it seemed like you were … and Monique said her clients had fortunes … not ….” She points to the cabin, deflated. “This.”

  “This is about money?” I shake my head, instantly pissed.

  Maybe I read sweet, sexy, genuine Everly all wrong. Maybe she’s as bad as those city girls who want spa days and personal shoppers. I thought she was something else. I thought she was the woman for me.

  “Not money, exactly, but … Silas, this is a rustic cabin. Not the home of a millionaire.” She waves her hands as if literally trying to cl
ear the air. “Not that I need a millionaire. Or ever even wanted one. But I did think I just married one.”

  I walk toward her, wanting her to know exactly who I am and who I’m not. Money doesn’t define me, and I sure as hell don’t need a wife who thinks it does.

  “I don’t know what Monique told you, but this is my house. I live on this land, and I will die on this land. And I need my wife to understand that.”

  She swallows, and I use my finger to draw her chin up so she looks me in the eyes.

  “If this house isn’t going to work for you, you damn well need to tell me.”

  “Why?” she asks. “Would you move somewhere else?”

  I snort. “Did you not hear what I just said? I plan to live and die here. We stayed at a hotel last night because we had too. But don’t expect that to be something you get very often. I go to Anchorage maybe once a month, tops.”

  “But Monique….” Everly bites her lip, seemingly overwhelmed.

  Shit, this girl hasn’t even walked inside. I could about kill Monique right now. I explicitly said I needed a wife who understood what it meant to live in the backwoods, in a cabin. It’s isolated as fuck, and that isn’t changing.

  “Silas, I can’t live here. It’s the middle of nowhere.”

  “That’s the point, sweetheart.”

  I turn away from her. I’m not the sort of man who’s going to convince her to stay, but shit … I’m not taking her back to Anchorage any time soon. I just left that bullshit city, and I need to set traps and get some fishing done. Plant a garden—something I expected her to help with.

  If she wants to leave, I can take her back in a week, but I’m sure as hell not changing my plans for anyone.

  Before stepping into the cabin, I grab some bags of groceries from the cart. My irritation at Everly grows as I stomp into my cabin and hang my rifle on the wall, then set the bags of food on the kitchen counter.

  I live off the grid because I want to, not because I’m some hobo. Fuck, there’s electricity to warm the water, to run the refrigerator and stove. Solar panels, inverters, batteries, and a diesel generator keep me from living like Travis and his mom in their place three miles away. Now there’s a real backwoods family.

  Me? I want to live in the mountains and carve my own path, but I’ll admit it’s easier to start this life up with a saving account. Plenty of folks have to work harder and longer to get enough money saved to move out here to the woods.

  But for Everly not to know what she was getting herself into fucking riles me up. Monique clearly kept some things from her. The last thing I want is a woman who doesn’t want to live this sort of extreme life.

  I finish putting up the food I bought, and I’m about to go for a second load when I turn and see Everly standing in the doorway, her rolling suitcase beside her, ready to take her first tentative step inside.

  “You planning on coming in?” I ask. “Because no one is forcing you to be here.”

  “I don’t know what I’m planning on doing, Silas,” she says, her voice high and put-out.

  “I don’t want some woman here against her will.”

  “Yeah, I heard you.” She shakes her head. “Even if I asked, I don’t think you’d get in that plane and take me anywhere tonight.”

  She purses her lips, looking around the one-room cabin, still not taking a single step inside.

  “You’re right about one thing,” I tell her, stepping toward the doorway. “I’m not leaving this property for a solid week.”

  She smirks, as if realizing she really has nowhere to go right now. Shaking her head as if she can’t believe this is her life.

  And I get it—if she really had no idea I lived like this, I’d be pretty fucking pissed, too. But it isn’t my fault Monique pulled a fast one on her. I’m not changing who I am and where I live for Everly. But I also have no intention of making her life a living hell. There are a few things I want too much to consider that.

  Namely: her.

  “Then I’m your prisoner?” she says. “Right?”

  “You can call it what you want,” I say, standing right in front of her, blocking her entrance. “But I’m pretty damn sure I’ll be calling you my wife.”

  I know she wants me. She licks her lips, and if I could rip off her dress I’d see her clenching her pretty little pussy as it pants in desire.

  Oh, I’ll see that soon enough.

  “Then right now I’ll call you my husband,” she gasps, as if surprising herself at how badly she wants me to take control.

  I pick her up. Her arms grab hold of my neck. She doesn’t want to let go any more than I do.

  “Damn straight you will,” I tell her, my voice low as I look in her deep green eyes. “But first, I need to carry my bride over the fucking threshold.”

  I bring her inside, not bothering to kick the door closed. The sun is out and the woods are wild and Everly is mine.

  This is my land, and this is my cabin, and I will take my wife any time I please.

  Chapter Twelve

  Everly

  When he sets me atop his bed, I forget that Monique tricked me and that he isn’t what I wanted or expected, because all I can think about is the fact that he is exactly what I need.

  In this moment. Him. Me.

  Yes, we are near-strangers … but he’s also my husband and I’m also his wife. And I want this to work, because I’ve already committed myself to him.

  And if he’ll carry me in his arms every night, then maybe this marriage can work out here in the woods. Because right now, his sheer strength feels like enough to lift me out of the foulest mood.

  And let me tell you, that’s saying something—because this cabin is depressing as hell.

  So I don’t focus on the fact that he lives in a solitary room, that this is the worst version of a bachelor pad I’ve ever seen. Instead I focus on his mouth as it leans over me, as it presses hard on my lips, as he circles his tongue against mine.

  Then I get that dizzy feeling again, where all I can do is remember to breathe. In and out. In and out. This becomes especially important as he growls my name. “Everly,” he says. “I’m claiming you as mine, right here, right now.”

  He pulls off his shirt, unbuttons his jeans, kicks off his boots.

  I watch, wordlessly, as he undresses. I’ve never seen a naked man before, never seen a cock. I’ve only imagined them. I’ve only read about length and girth on my Kindle after downloading a new romance novel.

  But those stories aren’t real. This is real.

  And damn, the real thing is nothing like my imagination.

  First off, the real thing is bigger. Much bigger.

  I watch as Silas hooks his thumbs in the waistband of his boxer briefs, as he tugs them off, revealing a cock as hard as rock, sticking straight out at me, practically begging to be touched, held. Sucked.

  Whew. Okay, I’ve never seen one before and I’ve already jumped to my mouth meeting its round tip, its thickness filling me until it releases against the back of my throat as I swallow him.

  Maybe I should slow down.

  Breathe. In and out. In and out.

  Delta and Amelia tried to coach me on what to expect my first time … but they did not prepare me for a mountain man and his solid cock and his rock hard abs and his scruffy hair and his clear blue eyes and his rough beard.

  They did not prepare me for Silas.

  Good. I don’t want them to know what it’s like to be with a man as untamed as Silas. To know what it is to have his calloused hands slide under my dress, up my thighs, ripping off my panties. I don’t want them to know how much my pussy drips as his fingers graze over my ass, pulling me toward his manhood.

  I help, throwing my cardigan to the ground and unzipping my dress. He lifts it over my head, leaving me bare except for my white bra.

  “Oh,” I say, remember my wedding night teddy packed in tissue paper in my suitcase. “I was going to wear something special … for my first time.”

  “
I don’t want you in anything,” he growls. His hungry eyes drink me in as he unhooks my bra at the center clasp. “I want to see your tits, in all their glory.” His hands run over them, massaging them and then plucking my tight nipples. “I want you bare and I want you ready. I’m going to remember the first time I took you for the rest off my goddamned life, but I sure as hell won’t remember some nightgown you wore.”

  He’s right. I’m going to remember how he knew what he wanted and how he took it. I’m going to remember that he wanted me.

  Me.

  Mrs. Everly Sutton.

  He takes my eyeglasses and sets them on the bedside table and runs his hands through my hair, somehow managing to make my boring, mousy brown bob seem beautiful. I feel beautiful.

  And damn, that’s a feat, considering half the time I can’t even look at a man without losing my voice.

  Though, to be fair, Silas is causing me to forget to breathe. Repeatedly.

  “You okay?” he asks, turning my head up to his. We’re both kneeling on the bed, and his cock presses against my belly.

  I don’t want it between us. I want it in me.

  “I just. Keep. Forgetting to breathe.” I sigh, my head falling back. “You must know how handsome you are.”

  He gives me a slow smile. “Don’t get many compliments out here,” he tells me.

  “I can imagine.” I laugh sharply, once again amazed that this is my actual life. “It is pretty quiet here.”

  “Mhhhmm,” Silas says, planting kisses on my neck, trailing down to my breasts. “But it’s about to get really loud.”

  “Why’s that?” I ask, losing all inhibition and relishing the way his mouth covers my skin, the way he pulls me closer to him, the way his cock taunts me with such close proximity.

  “Because, Everly, I’m about to make you scream.”

  He spanks my ass playfully, and I let out a squeak, laughing as he squeezes my ass cheek.

  “You’re bad, Silas,” I tell him with mock seriousness, pointing a finger at him. He bites at my finger, catching it between his teeth, then sucking it seductively.