I looked at the cake. Chocolate. She remembered how much I liked it. How my grandmother used to make me one every birthday.
“Think it’d only be polite to thank her in person, don’t you?” Beau said.
I looked at my brother. “I don’t know, I can’t—”
“She’s leaving, Hank.”
My knees nearly buckled. “What?”
Beau leveled me with a look that made my gut clench painfully. “She was in the middle of packing.”
No.
“She’s not Mom,” Beau said, and shoved his fingers through his hair. “Birdie’s hurting. She cares about you. Christ, I think she might love you.” He shook his head. “That makes you the luckiest bastard I know. I’d give anything for that, for a good woman like Birdie.”
I straightened. I’d never heard Beau talk like that. “But she’s leaving…”
“Ask her to stay,” he said.
I stared at Beau, still trying to recover from the eighteen-wheeler this news had just driven through my chest, but my brother hadn’t finished.
“You’re not the only one who has shit they’re dealing with because of Mom, and it’s taken me a long time, a lot of wrong turns, to work out what I want. And, Hank, if you don’t go to her and tell you how you feel, if you don’t stop her from getting in her car and driving away, that would also make you the dumbest bastard I know.”
“What if she leaves anyway?” I said, voice like nails on rusted tin.
Beau held my stare. “What if she doesn’t?”
Birdie
I stood at the bathroom counter and looked at my pale reflection.
How long would it take for this not to hurt so much, for me not to miss him like something vital had been torn out of me?
As every day passed I was more convinced that there would never be relief from it. I loved him. That didn’t just go away. It might fade in time, but I knew with everything in me that I would always feel this way.
Staying in this town, having him close…I couldn’t do it anymore. I had to go.
I finished washing my face, patted it dry, and pulled my hair band out, letting my hair fall loose.
Did he like the cake? Was he eating it now?
Was he thinking of me?
I knew he liked to be alone, but the thought of him in that house all by himself—I hated it. I worried that he might be lonely, if he was taking care of himself, if he was eating properly. Ridiculous. The man had been taking care of himself all his life. He certainly wasn’t starving himself. He didn’t need me.
Still, I’d made the damned cake, my way of saying goodbye, I guess. I wanted to do something that would make him happy, maybe even put a smile on his face.
Let him know I cared.
I weaved around the boxes stacked in the hall, into my bedroom, and changed for bed. The long-sleeved white thermal top had blue polka dots and was long, hitting mid-thigh. I never bothered with PJ bottoms when I wore it—they only twisted during the night and made me crazy.
It wasn’t late, but I was tired since I hadn’t been sleeping much lately. I knew I’d still end up staring at the ceiling all night, but I had to try and get back into a routine. My old routine, before Hank.
I headed to the kitchen and grabbed a glass out of one of the boxes on the counter.
There was a knock at the kitchen door.
I spun toward it, my hand flying to my chest.
The door was half wood, half clear glass. It was at the back of the house, so I’d never really worried about it.
Standing on the other side of the window, one hand to the doorframe, head close to the glass, eyes locked on me…was Hank.
Oh God.
I was moving across the room before my brain fully registered.
I flicked the lock and yanked open the door.
“You’re leaving?” he said on a harsh whisper.
“Hank…”
He stepped forward, colliding with me, and my words stalled in my throat when his arms banded around me and he buried his face against the side of my throat.
My heart pounded against the back of my ribs as I listened to him breathe deep.
“God, I missed you so damn much,” he said against my skin, his big body trembling against mine. “Can’t think, can’t eat, can’t fucking breathe without you.” His lips brushed my neck. “Need you, Birdie, need you so bad. You can’t, you can’t leave me.”
My hand went to the side of his face. “I need you, too.” His head lifted, mouth seeking mine as I did the same. His tongue thrust past my lips, tangling with mine, and there was a desperation, an urgency, that made my head spin.
His big, rough-skinned hands dropped to my ass and his fingers slid up under my shirt then down the back of my underwear. “Need inside you, sweetheart. Christ, I’ll die if I don’t get inside you.”
He kept moving until my back hit the wall.
“Then take me,” I said, my voice as raw with need as his.
He moaned and tugged on my underwear, shoving them down my legs. As soon as they were off, his hand slid between my thighs, cupping me. “Pussy’s so wet, Birdie, so wet and hot for me.”
“Yes,” I said as my hands dropped to the front of his jeans and I tugged at his belt, undoing it then popping the button. I nipped his lower lip then sucked it as I slid down the zipper and freed his iron-hard erection. “God, I need you.”
His breathing was hard, harsh. Each breath came out as a gasp, pitched high, like he was fighting to control his emotions. He lifted me off the ground, and my legs came around his waist. Then he was there, his body pressing into me, every bit of his heat, his scent surrounding me.
He slammed up inside me, filling me in one hard thrust.
His mouth came back to mine and I fed him my scream of pleasure. He stayed deep, twisting his hips, grinding into me, causing a nonstop assault deep inside and against my clit all at once.
“Sweetheart,” he said against my lips. “Oh fuck, sweetheart.”
My whole body jolted as my orgasm exploded through me. I sunk my nails into his shoulders and sucked his lips, his tongue, trying to pull him closer when that was impossible. “God, I love you, I love you so much,” I cried out, unable to keep it in any longer.
Hank made a sound like a tormented animal, then he growled, pulled out, slammed back in, and came hard inside me. My name flew from his lips and echoed around my small kitchen.
He glided in and out of me until the last pulse of his cock, until the last wave of pleasure rolled through us both. He kissed my jaw and lifted his head.
His gorgeous blue eyes bore into me. “You…you love me?”
I could try and backtrack. I could pretend it was the heat of the moment. We’d only known each other for such a short time. But I knew how I felt, and I realized I didn’t want to take it back.
“Yes,” I said. “And when you dropped me off and drove away, I didn’t know how I was going to survive it. I still don’t.” I held nothing back.
“I never thought, after my mom left, after seeing my dad suffer through that…” He let out a shuddering breath. “I thought I did something wrong, that somehow it was my fault she didn’t love me enough to stay, that I wasn’t…” He shook his head. “I…I never thought I could be enough, enough for anyone. God, for someone like you.”
My heart was breaking for him. How could he think that? “Hank—”
His eyes flared. “Say it again, Birdie.”
I cupped his face, his beard tickling my palms, and held his desperate stare. “I love you, Hank Smith,” I whispered. “So much.”
A breath shuddered through him. “I love you, too, sweetheart. Christ, more than I thought was possible. I don’t want to spend another night without you.”
I shook my head. “Me either. I couldn’t bear it.”
He dipped his face, bringing it even closer to mine. “But can you…can you give it all up to be with me? Can you be happy in the mountains…with me?”
I smiled, unable to
control the joy filling me. “It doesn’t matter where I am. As long as I’m with you, I’ll be happy.”
His eyes searched mine, and there was fear there, fear that he couldn’t hide from me.
“Hank, what is it?”
He gripped me tighter. “Promise me, if you need more, if you’re not happy, promise you’ll talk to me first, that you won’t just leave me. Promise me that.”
“I promise,” I said, making sure he heard the truth in those words. “I’ve never had a home, not a real one. And being with you, Hank, you are home. You’re what I’ve been searching for my whole life. Why would I ever leave that, leave you, now that I’ve finally found you? It’s not going to happen. That will never happen.”
He growled and carried me down the hall toward the bedroom. “Tell me you love me again.”
“I love you.”
He dropped me onto the bed and covered me. “Again,” he rasped.
I slid my hand up the side of his throat, pulling him closer, and said against his lips, “I love you.”
“Birdie,” he said in a way that lifted goosebumps over my skin. “I’ll work every day to make sure you’re happy. Whatever you want, whatever you need, I’ll—”
“Hank,” I said.
He looked down at me.
“I’ve got you. I already have everything I want and everything I need. Love me and I’ll be the happiest girl in the world. That’s all I need.”
He buried his face against my throat again, and then he made love to me until the sun came up.
Epilogue
Five years later
Birdie
The sound of sweet little girl giggles filled the living room, followed by Hank’s deep voice and his soft chuckles.
As always, hearing my husband with his girls got to me. There was no sound I loved more.
I quickly put the last of the chocolate frosting swirls on the cake and turned to face them just in time. Hank rounded the corner, a grubby four-year-old on each shoulder.
I grinned at Beth and Emmy, giving the twins a little nod, and they both yelled, “Happy Birthday, Daddy!”
A huge smile spread across Hank’s face before he dropped to one knee, lowering his daughters to the floor. The girls threw their arms around his neck, planted a wet kiss on each cheek, then released him and rushed me for a piece of cake.
“Daddy has to blow out his candles before we eat cake!” I said.
They squealed and clapped their hands as Hank moved in closer and I lit the candles. He dutifully blew them out, then I lit them again twice more so the girls each had a turn as well.
We all ate cake, and after a bath, Hank read them a story—and like always, fell asleep as soon as the girls did. I walked in to find him in the armchair, Beth and Emmy asleep in his lap and draped over his chest.
I gently shook his shoulder, and he opened his eyes.
“Let’s get the girls to bed,” I said and picked up Beth. Hank did the same with Emmy, and we put them to bed, pulling the door closed behind us.
I took his hand and led him down the hall to our room. “I had a surprise for you, but I think you might be too tired.”
His arms came around me from behind and he lifted me off the floor. I stifled a squeal, but couldn’t hold back my giggle as he dropped me on the bed and came down on top of me.
“I’m not too tired for my surprise,” he growled against my ear.
He grew hard against my leg and I shivered. “You sure about that?”
“Positive.”
“I’m wearing something special for your birthday,” I said, sliding my hand down the front of my robe.
Hank’s eyes flared, and his gaze dropped down to my chest. “Show me,” he rasped.
“I thought you might like to unwrap me.”
He licked his lips and I felt his heart pounding against mine. In five years, the only thing that had changed between us was that our love had grown stronger. We couldn’t get enough of each other, and I knew that would never change.
He slid his hand down my front, tugged the belt free, then slowly, so damn slowly, opened each side.
“Birdie,” he rumbled in that gritty way that made me wet and hot.
“I’m wearing my birthday suit just for you.”
“I see that,” he rasped. “And you’re so damn beautiful, sweetheart.” He kissed my bare skin, my chest and my belly. He sucked a nipple into his mouth and I arched, a moan escaping. “All mine.”
I cupped his face and he looked down at me, eyes so hot and filled with want my breath burst past my lips. I dragged my thumb over his whiskered jaw. “What did you wish for?”
“Hmm?”
I threaded my fingers with his. “When you blew out the candles.”
“I didn’t,” he said, then pressed his mouth to mine and moved his hand down my body, lower, spreading my thighs.
I shivered again. “Why not?”
He pressed hot, wet kisses over my breasts, my belly, and lifted his head. “I don’t need to make wishes. I’ve got everything I ever dreamed of. The woman of my fantasies, who I love more than life, and our two beautiful girls. Birdie, there’s nothing else I want.”
My eyes welled with tears. “Love you, Hank.”
“Love you, too, sweetheart.”
Then there were no more words.
THE END
Thank you for reading Mountain Man!
Beau’s story is up next in
WILD MAN
(The Smith Brothers #2)
The first time I saw Beau Smith’s face, I fell for him…hard. There’s just a few tiny problems. He lives wild. I’ve never left the city. He wants a wife who can handle his harsh world. I just want him.
He’s been burnt in the past, and he won’t let me in easily, but there’s no denying the spark between us, so intense it could set the woods on fire. And with every hot and dirty night we spend together, I can feel his walls crumbling.
But once he realizes I’m not what he signed up for, that I lied to him about who I am—will he still want me, or will I lose my wild man forever?
If you’re in the mood for more heroes like The Smith Brothers, larger than life with a heart of gold, you could try Elijah from Breaking Him.
Or Hugh from Swerve (Boosted Hearts #1)
Keep turning for an excerpt of chapter one!
I’d love to hear what you thought of Mountain Man. If you have a few moments to leave a review, I’d be incredibly grateful.
Also by Sherilee Gray
The Smith Brothers:
Wild Man
Lawless Kings:
Shattered King
Broken Rebel
Beautiful Killer
Boosted Hearts:
Swerve
Spin
Slide
Axle Alley Vipers:
Crashed
Revved
Wrecked
Black Hills Pack:
Lone Wolf’s Captive
A Wolf’s Deception
Stand Alone Novels:
Breaking Him
About the Author
Sherilee Gray is a kiwi girl and lives in beautiful New Zealand with her husband and their two children. When she isn’t writing sexy, edgy contemporary romance, searching for her next alpha hero on Pinterest, or fueling her voracious book addiction, she can be found dreaming of far off places with a mug of tea in one hand and a bar of Cadburys Rocky Road chocolate in the other.
To find out about new releases, giveaways, events and other cool stuff, sign up for my newsletter!
Connect with Sherilee via Facebook, Instagram, Twitter or Pinterest.
www.sherileegray.com
Swerve
Boosted Hearts #1
CHAPTER ONE
Shay Freestone cursed her ridiculous, flimsily made Poison Ivy costume for the gazillionth time when Batman stepped in front of her, blocking her exit and fingered one of her leaves. She slapped away the creep’s hand.
Kayla owed Shay big time for t
his. Her best friend had shoved her into the embarrassing ensemble two hours ago, quoting Section Two, Item Four of their Best Friends’ Handbook, drafted when they were in the seventh grade, after Shay refused to go to the school dance— which meant they both didn’t go—and in her friend’s absence, Rob Dunkirk, the love of Kayla’s life, had danced with April Gunson the entire night. The section in question stated that Shay Freestone and Kayla Green agreed to do whatever necessary, whenever required, in the pursuit of securing love for either of the aforementioned.
But this, this was going above and beyond.
Batman moved closer, a bead of sweat sliding down his temple from under his now askew black mask. “Come on, Ivy. Don’t go yet. The party’s just getting started.”
Gag. She tried to slip by, but he kept coming until his protruding belly—which was straining his utility belt dangerously—bumped into her, forcing her back a step.
“I really have to go.”
He licked his fleshy, cherry-red lips and leaned in. “First, I need to find out if your kiss really is poisonous.”
Is this cretin for real? She leaned back farther. Why on earth had she let Kayla drag her to this ridiculous party? Best Friends’ Handbook, be damned. So what if Shay’d been a hermit the last few months? That was preferable to standing in a corner by herself the whole night, feeling like a complete idiot, while her traitorous friend, in the pursuit of love, was probably getting naked with Wolverine—aka Kayla’s ex-boyfriend, James, and the reason she and Shay were here —back at his place. The couple had disappeared a little while ago. Her friend had bailed on her. Again. Kayla had conveniently forgotten that section of the blasted handbook. Now Shay was stranded without her wallet, phone, or the keys to her trailer since she’d stashed them in her friend’s bag.
Maybe her gran had given a spare key to Edna next door? The pair had been thick as thieves before her grandmother passed away and left the place to Shay.
Batman’s heavy breathing cut through her thoughts. His fingers moved lower. “So tell me, are you a natural redhead?”
Ew! She gave his hand a slap-shove combo. “I don’t think—” “How about we go upstairs, and you let me find out?” Oh, dear God. Shay ducked under his arm, but he still had hold of the leaf on her costume,
Mountain Man (The Smith Brothers Book 1) Page 9