Followed By The Mountain Man (The Mountain Men of Linesworth Book 8)

by Frankie Love

  She sucks me as I do, her full tits against my chest, and I lose it in her mouth. I come hard for her, the way she needs, and my sweet girl swallows me like a goddamn champ. Nice and good, not wasting a goddamn drop, and when she finishes, she spins around to face me, a deep hunger in her eyes. I know what she needs.

  To be fucked nice and good. I draw her to the bed, on her back, and I lean over her, kissing her mouth hard.

  “Fuck, I want you,” I growl, my cock hard once more and her legs wrapping around me, intrinsically knowing right where she belongs. I ease my rigid length into her sweetness, filling her up nice and slow. She gasps as I ease her open, her virgin hole so needy, and yet so timid.

  I make her mine, inch by inch, and when I’m inside of her, completely, she moans, tears filling her eyes. “It’s perfect,” she says. “You were right. You fit perfect.”

  The words are so damn good to hear, and I lace my fingers with hers, pinning her hands over her head. I ride my girl nice and slow, bringing her to climax with tenderness, with only her needs in mind.

  She takes her sweet time, and so do I. Our needs become one as we move in a rhythm all our own. This is all new for her, being taken by a man. But I’m not just any man. I’m hers.

  “I love you,” I say, kissing her collarbone, her neck, her mouth. “I fucking do, Tillie.”

  Her eyes search mine, looking for something, and I fear she doesn’t find it. “Shhh,” she says, instead of the words I suddenly need to hear. “Just be here. With me,” she says.

  She closes her eyes and I take her to the very edge, not wanting the spell to break, fearing it already has.

  But I won’t take those words back. Because right now, they are truer than anything else I’ve ever said.

  She makes me want to be more than a better man. She makes me want to be her man. Hers alone.

  She comes with a moan that echoes in my ear, my heart. I come too, knowing I will fight for her love, knowing I would follow her anywhere.

  8

  Tillie

  That got real.

  Real fast.

  After sleeping most of the night, with Benji sleeping beside me in my bed, I wake only to replay the entire night in my mind. Trying to remember exactly what he said.

  I wasn’t imagining it.

  I love you.

  Rolling away from him, I reach for my phone, and find myself opening up the Chatter app and clicking on his profile. He has a million followers, and as I scroll through some of his latest chats, I feel myself bubble up with happiness. He is so incredibly handsome, all these photos of him make my whole body heat up.

  But then I read some comments.

  I’d take a mouthful of your sausage.

  I bet it’s more than a footlong.

  So juicy.

  Yum. Now there is a meal I want to eat.

  Forget take out, I want to take you in.

  It’s impossible not to tense. And it isn’t just the fact that the women writing these things are all gorgeous, it’s the fact he’s hearted them, liked them — even commented back.

  And this was all just a day ago.

  It’s not even jealousy I feel. I understand everyone has a life before they meet their person. Their forever. I’ve never thought that I would meet my future husband and find that he saved himself for me. I am a virgin because I chose that for myself.

  Or, was a virgin.

  Last night I gave my body to Benji, and I also gave him pieces of my heart. Now as I scroll through his feed, I second-guess myself.

  I feel myself closing up, feel fear winding its way around me, and I get out of bed, jumping in the shower, trying to wash the emotions away.

  I don’t regret what I did — I loved every last second of it. But I don’t want to be stupid, to let myself get carried away by a man who has no intention of staying.

  And Benji came over for dinner. He didn’t come to my place on the pretense of becoming my one and only.

  And yet for a split second, as he filled me up, I saw that love story unfolding. I saw the bright lights and magic, the wishes coming true. I saw us.

  But his words, I love you, are so farfetched and impossible, they take the fantasy away.

  Because real life is not so damn perfect. Real life is work. It’s food trucks that are failing and crashing far too long at your parents’ rental.

  I need to get my act together.

  After the shower, I pull a bathrobe on and braid my hair. In the kitchen, I make a pot of coffee and wash the dishes from our chicken and waffles, putting away the mess from dinner.

  Considering the waffle batter I have stored in the fridge, I figure what the heck and turn on the iron, grabbing butter and syrup for a second helping for breakfast. With the coffee brewed, and the waffles cooking, Benji stirs. Soon he is in my kitchen with his boxers on, taking the mug of coffee from my hand.

  “What’s cooking, good looking?”

  I twist my lips, steeling myself for an honest conversation.

  “Waffles. I thought we could have breakfast and talk before you leave?”

  He steps toward me, and nuzzles his mouth to my neck. Kissing me. “I want to eat, but I want a different kind of meal.” He cups my pussy, and I feel myself getting weak in the knees. The idea of him pulling open this robe and making love to my pussy here and now sounds heavenly.

  And also a recipe for a broken heart.

  I shake my head. “No, Benji. We can’t do that again.”

  His eyes widen as he takes the waffle from the iron, and plates it. He hands it to me. “Why not? It is the perfect way to start a day. Trust me.”

  “I’m sure you know all about how to wake up in a stranger’s bed and make the fling last a little longer, but I’m not that girl. Not that person. And I don’t want that from you.”

  “Where is all this coming from? I thought we had an incredible night. A perfect night.”

  “We did,” I say, pouring half the jar of syrup on my carbs. “But I don’t want any more of that perfection.”

  He sets down his fork. “Why?”

  “Because I need to focus. Get my life in order. Move out of my parents’ place and get a viable business up and running. I can’t do that while making perfect with you.”

  “Why not?” he asks plainly. “Seems like we want the same thing.”

  “No, we don’t. You are a player and I’m not. If I sleep with you again, I’ll get all attached and worked up and forget my goals. I’m not like you, Benji. I am a product of romantic comedies where a happily ever after happens to the sort of awkward girl.”

  “And you think you are the awkward girl?”

  “I know I am. And you are the bad boy who might very well break her heart.”

  “I don’t break hearts, Tillie.”

  “No? Then why does every lady who chats you back mention the length of your meat?”

  “I can’t break anyone’s heart when I never let them in enough to get broken.”

  “You seemed to let me in last night. Or do you tell every girl that you love her?”

  He runs a hand through his beard. “I never say that. You are the exception, not the rule.”

  “Except according to Chatter, you—”

  He picks up his phone and cuts me off. “Is that what this is about? This dumbass app? I don’t even care about it. I use it for marketing, not to get laid.”

  I want to believe him, I do. But how can I? He is a hundred red flags wrapped up in a delicious package.

  “I think you should go,” I say, hating the words even as they come out of my mouth. But it’s for the best.

  “Are you kidding me?”

  I shake my head. “No Benji, I’m not.”

  He pulls on his clothes, shaking his head. “You know what you are, Matilda? Scared. Scared that I might be the person you end up with. Scared that I’m the one you really, truly want. You think you want a Prince Charming to round out your fairy tale but you’re wrong. What you really want is a bad boy with a beard.
What you really want is me.”

  Benji leaves out the front door, and I watch him ride away, wondering what in the world I’ve just done.

  I pushed away the one man I’ve ever really wanted. And there is no reason for him to come back and try again after what I just said to him.

  And the worst part is, he’s right. I do want him. But I want him to only want me.

  9

  Benji

  I ride my bike home, furious. With Tillie for kicking me out, and with myself for shouting at her.

  She doesn’t believe my intentions and I hate myself because that is on me. Maybe I took this innuendo on Chatter a little too far. Hell, I know I did if it means it hurt Matilda.

  And when I said I loved her, I meant it. I mean it still.

  I just need her to understand that I’m not full of shit.

  When I get back to my cabin, I exhale with relief that the smoky air has cleared from the damn kitchen fire. I shower quickly, then text Wyatt, asking if he’s free.

  I drive my truck to the CrossFit gym he owns, and he forces me to join him in a grueling workout. I do the planks and squats, the damn ropes and the dead lifts, and by the end of it, I’m exhausted.

  “So, wanna talk about why you needed to let off steam so damn bad?” Wyatt asks as we grab towels after the workout.

  “It’s Matilda. I fucking fell for her. Hard. And she thinks I’m full of hot air.”

  “Are you?” he asks.

  I shake my head. “Wanna know the truth? I haven’t been with anyone in years. I may have this vibe on Chatter about being a player, but when is the last time you actually saw me out with anyone?”

  Wyatt frowns. “Shit, really? I always thought you came out solo because you didn’t want to give a girl the impression you were serious. I never considered it might be because you weren’t dating at all.”

  “I haven’t. Not since I got to Linesworth.”

  “So it’s all an act?”

  I shrug. “A dumb marketing technique.”

  Wyatt laughs. “And yet it works.”

  “So did you tell Tillie all this?” Wyatt asks.

  Just then, his fiancée Windsor walks over, delivering us each a freshly prepared green drink from her juice bar. “Why are you talking about Tillie?” she asks, eyes narrowed on me.

  Wyatt pulls her to him. “He thinks he loves her.”

  “Do you?” she asks. “Because I’ve been texting her all morning and according to her, you’re just a player, you see her as another conquest.”

  “That isn’t true.”

  “Well, you need to prove that to her.”

  “Just tell her the truth, that you aren’t actually sleeping around,” Wyatt says.

  “Sure, I will do that, but I need to do something bigger to prove to her that she’s the only one for me.”

  Windsor lights up. “Maybe tell your Chatter followers to come buy a coffee from her. Get her some business.”

  I nod slowly. “Not a terrible idea. But I think I can do one better.”

  I decide to close up my food truck and take it into the shop. I ask the mechanic if he can redo the electrical to run some new equipment. Then I place a big order online, getting all the gear I need. After that, I call an old college friend and ask him to do some design work on my behalf.

  I send chats out throughout the day to my followers, mentioning a big surprise in the works. Teasing them with 280 characters or less.

  Besides dealing with my food truck, I make a bold decision and ask Wyatt if I can go back to crashing on his couch.

  “Windsor won’t like that very much,” he says, but when I explain the reason why I need to be out of my cabin, he agrees. “You gotta fight for what you want.”

  After hiring an interior decorator, I explain what my house needs to look like, down to a T. Hell, I even get a Pinterest account so I can show her the kind of shit that needs to go into my place.

  The designer was confused with my request at first, considering I’m a burly ass man, but she didn’t argue. After all, I’m the one forking over the dough.

  At the end of the week, I see a direct message come in from Tillie, and for a moment, I hope she asks what I’m up to. But instead, it’s just a notification from Chatter letting me know she is no longer following me.

  It’s a gut punch, all right. But by the time another week passes, I’m ready to make it crystal clear to Tillie that I’m not all talk — I can take this relationship to the proving grounds. She says she needs to sort out her life before she can deal with me — good. Then I am helping her with that. No more excuses.

  I call her up, and ask if she can meet me at my cabin. “I know you stopped following me, but can you come out to my place? I need to talk.”

  “Why? I told you, I’m not going to date a player.”

  “Good. Because I’m not a player, and I don’t want to date you.”

  “Are you trying to hurt my feelings?” she asks.

  I groan, realizing my words came out wrong. “I don’t want to date you — I want to be with you.”

  “Along with every other woman in town.”

  “Please, just come out.”

  “Fine, but I’m bringing Kensie and Windsor.”

  “Good, you should.”

  “Really?” she sounds surprised.

  “Yeah, I mean, I already invited Kodiak and Wyatt, and your parents.”

  She scoffs. “What are you talking about?”

  “Just come to my cabin this afternoon, Matilda. Let me show you what kind of man I am.”

  I hang up, looking around my property. Hoping like hell I didn’t just make a huge mistake.

  10

  Tillie

  When I call Kensie and Windsor, they tell me they are already on their way over.

  “Wait, how did you know I needed you?”

  “We might have spoken to Benji about his plan.”

  “Wait, what?” I pace my room, wondering what the heck is going on.

  “Just give us ten minutes. We’re almost there.”

  When they arrive, I am in panic mode. I spent the last two weeks obsessing over the fact that Benji and I had a glorious night together only for me to utterly destroy any chance of ever being with him again. And he totally ghosted me to boot. As in, closed up shop on the Lumberjack Smoke Haus and told his million followers he had a surprise coming. My guess was that he was going to drive his truck to a new town and start over, forgetting me more with every mile he put between us.

  But he is still here. Still in Linesworth.

  Why?

  “What’s going on?” I ask as Kensie pops open a bottle of bubbly and pours us each a glass. “What’s the occasion?”

  “You’ve been invited over to Benji’s, which means all your insane theories about him ditching town are just that — insane. That is cause for celebration.”

  “Do you know why he has been MIA for two weeks?” I ask them before taking the glass of champagne and taking a very large sip.

  “Yes we do, and no, we won’t tell you,” Windsor says.

  “A hint at least? He said my parents were going over there too.”

  Windsor and Kensie share a smile. “It’s so romantic,” they swoon.

  “What is? The fact the man I gave my V-card to is a bona fide player?”

  Kensie rolls her eyes. “Have you actually ever seen Benji with another woman?”

  I press my lips together. “There are women drooling over him at his food truck every day. And you’ve seen his posts. Totally upselling his package on the regular. ”

  “Sure,” Windsor says. “But like, have you ever actually seen him out with anyone else?”

  I consider this. “Well, no. But I mean, he has a reputation.”

  “On a stupid app. What about in real life?” Kensie asks. “Because to be honest, you are the only person I’ve ever actually heard that he went out with.”

  “Wait, what are you saying?” I gulp down the champagne, needing liquid courage because
I’m sort of getting the impression I just totally made Benji’s sex addiction up.

  “We’re saying you need to put on a cute dress, curl your eyelashes and your hair, and get ready to fix things with the man who told you he loves you.”

  My eyes widen, piecing it together. “Oh my God, did I totally assume the worst of the person who saw me for my best?”

  Windsor smiles. “I guess you need to get dressed so you can go find out.”

  An hour later, I’m wearing a pale blue sundress, and my stomach is doing flip-flops. Kensie and Windsor assure me that’s a good thing. A great thing, even. I want to believe them, but I’m scared. I spent one night with Benji before pushing him away… will he really offer me a second chance?

  When we get to his cabin, I see Kodiak and Wyatt with Benji in the front yard, drinking beers, and my parents are there too.

  “Mom, Dad, I tried calling,” I say, walking over to them. “What’s going on?”

  Mom gives me a warm hug. “Oh honey, you look beautiful.”

  My dad answers my question. “Benji asked us to come up.”

  I look around the yard, and see Benji’s eyes on me. “Tillie, can we talk?”

  I nod slowly, only then realizing everyone is watching us. Closely. “What is going on?”

  He takes my hand, as if we’ve done this a thousand times, and I would be lying if I said his touch didn’t send shivers up my spine. I love the way his hand feels in mine, and I feel tears springing to my eyes as he pauses, turning to me. I see only love. Maybe his words weren’t about keeping me in bed longer — maybe he meant his I love you in a way I wasn’t ready to understand.

  “You told me you couldn’t try to make things work with me until your business was profitable, and until you moved out of your parents’ rental, right?”

  I remember my words on the morning of our fight… I need to focus. Get my life in order. Move out of my parents’ place and get a viable business up and running. I can’t do that while making perfect with you.