B.I.L.F [Beard I'd Like To…]

by Frankie Love

  Let them hear.

  He leads me by the hand next door to my big, soft bed, and he immediately cradles me, holds me, kisses me all over and whispers how amazing I am while my vision comes back into focus.

  “You are so perfect, Daphne,” he murmurs into my hair, and I melt completely into his arms. I feel like a new woman. A woman who has finally had the chance to explore parts of herself she has always wanted to.

  And loved it.

  “You think so?” I ask, a teasing tone in my voice as I turn to look him in his gorgeous eyes.

  “You’re the perfect woman,” he replies. Sincerely. It throws me for a moment and I shuffle around a little to look at him better. “I never thought I’d meet a woman like you.” He presses a kiss to my hair and then smooths it behind my ears so he can see my face better. I’m dumbstruck by what I’m hearing.

  This isn’t fling talk at all.

  I wiggle away from his touch, mostly so I can see all of him at once, and I raise my eyebrows at him. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying I’ve never felt like this before, Daph.”

  That nickname again. Coming from his mouth I can hear it -- that he truly cares for me. I don’t know how to feel.

  “Dane,” I say, and as he waits for me to speak his face falls a little at the tone of my voice. “This is just for a couple of days, remember? You’re going back to your cabin in the woods. This is my home.” I gesture around, the one I’m so proud of. “We’re from two different worlds.”

  He lets me talk, saying nothing, just stroking my arm with his thumb. His touch feels so damn good but that doesn’t make what I’m saying any less true.

  “Insta-love only happens in romance novels,” I finish quietly.

  His lips turn upwards again into a smile. “Trust me,” he says. “This is real. I know you feel it too.”

  Dane and I pushed our limits a little more than we’re used to. Tried new things. Maybe I should continue in that vein.

  “What do you think?” he presses gently, his palm sliding down from my arm around my waist and hip and ending on my thigh. His hand is so solid, so warm. I look into his eyes and at his unfairly handsome face; his thick, masculine facial hair.

  I open and shut my mouth, and then decide to tell the truth.

  Even though it’s scary as hell to say out loud.

  “I think you’re crazy,” I laugh. “But… I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel it too. You’re exactly the kind of man I think I could open my heart to.” I wriggle closer to him again, by an inch, desperate to feel his warmth again.

  “Tell me more,” he says, his smile so hot and welcoming and… familiar. Already, Dane feels so safe.

  He didn’t have to prompt me. I wanted to say more.

  “I think you’re the complete package, Dane. You are so sweet but so rugged. Loyal. Trustworthy. I’ve always wanted to meet a man like you.” He moves his hand to squeeze mine and I blush at the sincerity of my own words. I’ve been burned before, and I really did just want a fling… but how could any sane woman resist a man like Dane for any length of time?

  He nuzzles his chin against my hand and we laugh together, and then when he wraps me up in his big, strong arms, I realize I could stay like this forever.

  “Plus,” I add, reaching up to run my fingers across his chin. “You’ve got a beard I’d love to keep fondling.”

  Chapter Nine

  Dane

  I wake up the next morning and I can sense that everything is different. I press my lips to her forehead and take in her soft, feminine scent while I kiss her. She barely stirs, and so I get up and stretch. When I’ve pulled my boxers back on, I make my way to her kitchen to figure out her coffee machine. I want Daphne to wake up to the smell of fresh coffee and a topless man who wants her more than anything.

  I pass by the stack of papers by her printer and I can’t resist leaning over to squint at the title page.

  ‘B.I.L.F: (Beard I’d like to fondle)’

  The title makes me laugh out loud, and I pick it up to look closer, wondering if I was the inspiration in any way for this, but then feeling a little arrogant for that assumption.

  So, is this why she likes my beard so much? Because her current romance hero has one? I chuckle and run my fingers through the hair on my chin that she seems so drawn to. That doesn’t bother me. It’s kind of cute, honestly; as long as she still likes me in that way once she is done with the novel.

  As I go to set down the title page, I catch a glimpse of the first page. The first chapter. I’m not sure if Daphne would be mad at me glancing at her work like this, but it’s not like it’s a journal, right? It’s sitting right here.

  Swallowing, I look closer when some lines, in particular, catch my eye.

  Because some of it -- some of the descriptions -- look pretty goddamn familiar to me.

  The house. The dinner.

  The back porch, with its low glowing lights. The crisp evening air. The setting sun.

  The man. The woman. The way it all felt.

  The coffee is brewed but I ignore it, sinking into the chair and running my hand over my beard as I keep reading with a frown. The descriptions of my body, of the heroine’s thoughts. It’s so vivid. It’s a play-by-play.

  What the fuck?

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Daphne

  I wake to the smell of freshly brewed coffee; and yawning, I pull on one of my oversized tees shirts before padding out barefoot to the kitchen. My nose is basically programmed, as a full-time writer, to follow the scent of coffee like a sniffer dog.

  I don’t remember the last time I was this happy.

  Walking on air, I breeze into the kitchen ready to seize the first day of the rest of my life. I’m ready to trust. I’m ready to take the leap and see if I can make something work with the most amazing man I’ve met in as long as I can remember.

  But then I walk into the kitchen and Dane is standing at the island and my work is stacked messily in front of him. As if it’s been rifled through since coming cleanly out of the printer…

  He’s holding a couple of the pages.

  And he’s frowning. Deeply.

  Shit.

  “Dane…” I start, taking a couple of steps closer to him and clasping my hands together. He’s definitely read it.

  I wrote out our story, his and mine, in excruciating detail. And I planned to send it straight to my publisher.

  “What is this, Daphne?” he demands, holding up a couple of pages in his hands. I swallow, my mouth suddenly very dry.

  I’ve screwed up. I’ve screwed up massively, and it hurts--knowing I have hurt him.

  It’s just been a few hours, really, since I met the man I think I really want to be with -- and his beard -- and now he’s going to walk away from me. I’ve freaked him out.

  “How can I make this right?” I blurt out.

  He pulls in a deep breath and it feels like a damn eternity before he lets it out again, looking away, but then he cracks a smile and the exhale turns into laughter.

  I am taken aback.

  “What’s so funny?” I have to ask. “Dane?”

  He shakes his head and sets down the pages, and then pats the sides so it’s all nicely aligned. I watch, frowning, waiting for him to tell me off. To walk out of my life without looking back.

  Is he embarrassed? Angry? Violated?

  What is so funny?

  “Daphne,” he says. “It’s so fucking hot.”

  “I just… What?” is all I can think to say.

  “This. Us. Our story. It made me so fucking hard, and then it got so sweet. Baby. You’re really talented.”

  My heart melts. I don’t know what to say.

  “Just one thing.”

  “Oh?”

  He smiles. “If there’s any chance my mom is going to read this, please, you have to change the name. Zane? It’s too close.”

  I laugh, cheeks flushed pink from how hard my heart was beat
ing before. I’m so relieved. “Oh god, Dane. I thought I had fucked everything up.”

  He moves closer to me and wraps his arms tightly around my waist. When I look up at him he kisses me hard with his soft lips. It’s a feeling I know I’ll never get tired of. Never.

  “I loved it. And you, Daphne, you are the real deal. You’re so talented, so smart, so sweet, and so, so sexy. You’re the complete package, baby, and I want you. Every day. Every night. How does that sound?”

  “Dane--” I gasp, but he silences me with another kiss.

  “Don’t answer yet. Whether it’s a yes or a no, there was one scene I read in your book that wasn’t based on true events, and I think we need to change that.”

  I open my mouth, but no noise comes out as Dane -- my huge, strong, sexy mountain man -- lifts me onto my kitchen counter and then lowers himself until his head is between my legs.

  I jump as the roughness of his beard tickles my inner thighs, and remember the scene I wrote.

  Dane is making sure it comes true.

  His hot breath between my thighs is so totally tantalizing it makes me lean back and has my eyes fluttering shut. Dane’s warm tongue flicks out and circles my swollen clit until delicious heat threads itself through my entire body.

  This man isn’t just a beard I’d like to fondle anymore.

  Dane is the beard I want to fuck.

  Forever.

  Epilogue

  Dane

  Six months later…

  Freshly home from work, and still in my ranger uniform, I walk past my redheaded beauty as she taps furiously on her laptop. Even though she has a strict ‘no talking while I’m typing!’ rule, I can’t resist coming up behind her and wrapping my arms around her for a moment.

  Her furious typing dies down and she turns to catch my lips with hers, threading her fingers through my hair, then stroking my cheek and running them across my beard. It’s now thicker than ever. Daphne suggested I let it grow out more, so I’m testing to see how much beard is too much.

  But it seems like the more beard I have, the more fun it is to feel it brushing against her thighs when I take my time licking her.

  Fine by me.

  I release her from our kiss knowing she has work to do. It took me several months to realize that although our sex inspires Daphne to write books that have launched her career as a romance writer to the next level, we need to keep inspiration-time and working-time separate. Or she’d never get anything done.

  And, to be honest, neither would I.

  I reach the kitchen, which in my cabin is only a couple of steps away from her workspace, and check on the meat in the slow cooker.

  A smile takes over my face while I pull off the lid and deliciously scented steam wafts towards me.

  Everything is so fucking perfect it’s almost too good to be real.

  Daphne was only supposed to come and visit me to give the woods and the mountains a try. See how she liked it.

  She loved it here from day one.

  Fucking under the stars, kissing by a fire, holding each other and listening to the sounds of the woods while we fall asleep together.

  Daphne told me she had never felt more at peace. How even though, in theory, the woods should feel less safe than suburbia, she had never felt safer than here in my cabin. With me.

  So, I suggested she stay with me for good. I have wifi and a comfortable desk with a beautiful view of the landscape. All she needs to work and more.

  She said yes, and we haven’t looked back.

  Daphne kept her house to rent out and get a nice extra trickle of income, which she absolutely doesn’t need in addition to those heavy royalty checks she gets every month from her novels.

  My woman is a goddamn writing machine. She writes so much it’s incredible. And it’s all so well-received. I make sure to show her how proud I am of her every day, and every night, and she comes to me when she’s unsure of the logistics or details of a scene. We act it out, figure out together how to spice it up.

  We make her dreams come alive on a daily basis.

  I’ve never been happier to be helping advance someone’s career…

  And her breakout hit?

  ‘B.I.L.F: Beard I’d like to fondle fuck.’

  Her typing slows to a stop again and I hear her sigh and stretch. I turn and fold my arms across my broad chest as I look over at her. “What did you write about today, gorgeous?” It’s my routine to ask her this daily.

  “I got it into my head that the hero and heroine needed to explore their wild sides,” she says with a naughty smile on her face. “I wrote a scene where they made love outside, under the stars, warming each other with their bodies and I can’t stop thinking about it.”

  My heart skips a beat hearing her talk like that.

  She stands while I remain silent and she crosses the threshold into the kitchen area and gently takes my wrists, still smiling coyly up at me.

  “Wanna reenact it, Dane? Make sure I, you know, got all the details right?”

  Fuck. My cock stirs, and I cup her cheeks, bend down a little, and kiss her hard. But then I pull away.

  “No, I don’t think so,” I tell her. “Not today.”

  Her eyebrows rise in confusion, and I don’t blame her. What man in his right mind would say no to a suggestion like that, from such a breathtakingly beautiful woman?

  I continue talking.

  “The scene I want to act out today is the happily ever after.”

  Her head tilts slightly at my words. “I’m not there yet in the story,” she says.

  I drop to one knee and present a small black box to her.

  “But we’re right here in ours,” I tell her, and open it up to reveal a glinting ring. I read the endings of five of her romance books to make sure I got the engagement ring of her fantasies. White gold bands were all over her epilogues. So was the clear stone -- moissanite more often than diamond, so that’s what I got.

  Her eyes widen and then her entire face softens as she rests her fingertips on her lips. Clearly, she wasn’t expecting this twist in our tale at all; not today. That just makes it even more satisfying to watch play out.

  “Daphne, you’re the whole package. I don’t just want the happily ever after with you, I want the series too. I want everything that comes next, to happen with you at my side. I thought all along that what I wanted was solitude, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. What I want -- what I need -- is you. Be my wife so we can start our next chapter together?”

  “Dane,” she says, allowing me to slip the ring onto her finger and blushing her trademark pink glow. “I’ve written countless proposal scenes and the heroine always says something clever or funny, but all I can think of to say is ‘yes’. That’s all that needs to be said.” She takes my hands in hers, and her ring sparkles as she tugs me upwards so she can press her soft, perfect lips against mine.

  This woman makes me whole, and I can’t wait to see what our story holds.

  And I couldn’t be happier that I turned out to be the beard she wants to fuck.

  PREVIEW

  Mountain Man Candy

  Clive is the local man candy in his mountain town. But after tragedy struck years ago, he’s closed himself off to the idea of love.

  It’s gonna take someone extra sweet to break his hard-candy shell.

  When candy-maker, Hazel, moves into town, he finds what he’s been waiting for.

  But falling in love means more than just satisfying a craving and he has to weigh the filthy-sweet rewards to decide if he’s ready.

  Dear Reader,

  Mountain Man Candy is more than a short and sexy sugar-rush. It’s a romantic AF, sprinkles on top, dipped-in-chocolate-cherry that's about to be popped, bite-sized piece of perfection.

  It's a mouthful--and you deserve the extra calories. Promise!

  xo, frankie

  CHAPTER 1

  CLIVE

  Cocking a brow at this broad, I decide to give it to her straight.


  “Look, I don’t do solo trips,” I tell her. “I suggest you book a private rafting trip with Charlie if that’s what you’re looking for.” I lean over the counter and hand her my buddy’s card. “Call him—or better yet, FaceTime him. I can guarantee he’ll answer that call.”

  “But you are the one I want… the one every woman wants. At least that’s what everyone was saying at the bar last night.”

  I scowl, hating her reference to me being the local man candy. A nickname I can’t seem to shake. Before I’m forced to say anything more, Charlie walks into the office.

  “What’s going on in here?” Charlie asks, his eyes darting between Tanya and me. I step away from the counter, raising my hands. Not wanting anyone to think I am even slightly interested in this woman who is coming on way too strong.

  I refrain from saying she wants a booty-call, even though that is exactly what she wants. “Tanya here is looking to book a private rafting trip. Thought you might be able to take her.”

  Charlie’s eye rake over Tanya and her too-tight shorts and barely-there top. I know Charlie likes what he sees. And the truth is, he’d never turn down a few days in the woods with a willing woman.

  Linesworth is a vacation destination—a small Bavarian village in the valley of the Washington State Forest. And our company, Forest Expeditions, is busy most of the year with tourists. At least, I call them tourists; Charlie calls them hook-ups. Mostly though, we take out families or older couples on trips. I know he’ll see a woman like Tanya as a treat.