Page 9 of Mountain Man's Firefly Girl
4
BISHOP
Iknew it the first time I saw her.
One look at her—those careful eyes, the way she held her shoulders like the world might ask her to prove something—and I was done. Finished. The rest of my life clicked into place around her like a compass needle settling on true north.
I didn't say it then. I just let the certainty settle into my bones. Some things you don't announce. You just live them.
And now she was here with me in the raft, fireflies rising all around us like the river itself was exhaling light, and she was saying she'd never been with anyone. Never.
The words should have changed things. Instead, they only made the ache in my chest sharper, sweeter. She trusted me with that. With her.
She leaned in first.
Our mouths met…soft, then not soft at all—heat and hunger and twenty-four hours of wanting compressed into one kiss. She tasted like river air and coffee and something underneath both that was just her.
I cupped the back of her neck, thumb brushing the fine hair at her nape, and she made this little sound that went straight through me. I wanted to swallow every sound she'd ever make.
Her hands moved to the hem of her shirt. She broke the kiss just long enough to pull it over her head and toss it toward the bank. It landed in the grasses with a soft rustle. Then she reached behind her back, unhooked her bra, and let that fall too.
The fireflies drifted around her bare skin, painting her in tiny pulses of gold. I couldn't breathe.
She started to stand.
I caught her hips. "Not yet," I said, voice rough. "Not safe."
I slipped over the side into the shallows first, the cool water rising to my calves. The bottom was firm, sandy. I pulled the raft snug against the bank, tying the bow line to a half-submerged root so it wouldn't drift. Then I reached for her.
She took my hand and stepped out. Her water shoes found the soft ground—river oats bending under us, bee balm brushing her legs, its faint spicy scent rising with every step. I kept one arm around her waist as we climbed the steep little bank to the flatter shelf where the hemlocks used to stand. The earth was warm from the day, cushioned with grass and wildflowers.
Private. Ours.
I turned her to me and kissed her again, deeper this time, my hands sliding down the smooth line of her back. She tugged at my shirt. I helped her, yanking it off one-handed and dropping it beside us. Her fingers traced my chest like she was memorizing me. I lowered her gently to the ground, settling her on her back in the soft grass.
I worked my way down her body, kissing her ribs, her stomach, the inside of her hip. When I reached the edge of her shorts, I slid them down her legs, taking my time. Then I hooked my fingers under the crotch of her panties, eased them aside,and touched her first—slow, careful—before slipping one finger inside her.
She gasped, hips lifting.
I leaned in and flicked my tongue over her clit, gentle at first, then firmer when her fingers threaded into my hair. She was wet, warm, perfect. I licked and sucked until her thighs started to tremble. Only then did I ease her panties all the way off so I could taste all of her.
I worked her with my mouth until she came apart under me—gasping, moaning my name like a prayer, fireflies flickering above us in the dark.
I moved up her body, kissing as I went. When I hovered over her, she pressed a hand to my chest.
"Wait," she whispered.
I stopped instantly, holding myself above her. "I'm clean," I said, voice low. "We can go back to my place right now if you want. I've got condoms. Whatever you need."
She shook her head, eyes shining in the firefly light. "I'm on birth control."
Something broke open in my chest—not breaking apart, breaking through. For the first time in my life, the thought of getting a woman pregnant didn't scare me—it filled me with a wild, certain joy.
I wanted to fill her. I wanted to watch her belly grow with our child. I wanted every tomorrow with her.
That was how I knew she was the one I'd spend the rest of my life loving.
I tugged my shorts and underwear down. I was aching, hard, ready. I positioned myself at her entrance, the head of me just kissing her slick heat, and the first brush of her wetness against me made my breath catch.
