Page 8 of Scarred Mountain Man

Shaw

"Shaw, I'm sorry but I can't."

Her lips say one thing and her body says another. How can she tell me she can’t accept my advances when she’s rubbing circles on my chest, her feathery touch driving me to the brink of insanity?

Fuck, my cock is practically drilling holes in my jeans and begging for release. I’m hard as steel and it’s not something I have experienced before. Of course, I have been aroused before, I am, after all, a warm-blooded man with needs like any other, but it’s never been this bad.

I’ve never been this hard in my life and my balls are threatening to bust if I don’t bury my throbbing cock inside of her this very second and unload my seed in her tightness.

Fucking hell! Saying she can't doesn't necessarily mean she doesn't want to and everything in me wants to grill her on thewhy.

Is she married? The thought leaves a sour taste in my mouth and the absence of a ring doesn't necessarily mean that she doesn't belong to another man. Why else would she turn me down… unless...

Fuck, what if it has something to do with my scars and my monstrous features, but then again, the way her body reacts to my touch says otherwise. The way she leans into my fingerswhen I graze her cheeks and how her breath catches every time I call herAngeltells me that the attraction goes both ways.

Then why?

Does it matter? Whatever reason that's keeping a wall between us shouldn't matter and I vow to take it down, brick by brick. If that's not possible, then I'll tear it down until mine's the only name on her lips and in her mind.

She became mine the second she set foot on my mountain and now I won’t stop until she’s begging for me to breed her, fuck her so hard that everyone on this mountain will hear us.

But I’ll wait.

I’ve waited for a decade, never daring to dream. I can wait a little longer for her to come to me.

"Okay," I say through clenched teeth, pushing back from her and wincing at the hard pulse of my cock. It takes everything in me to move away from my angel, but I manage to. “Okay, let’s head out.”

She nods, following me out of the bedroom and cabin. I guide her around the cabin to the little garden I started when I first moved to the mountains. It took tons of trial and error and years of reading up on farming to be able to grow anything back here and now I’ve cultivated enough food to sustain me through different seasons. I even built a shed to store firewood and my harvests.

“Oh my God, you weren’t kidding,” Jean gasps from my side, pushing forward to get a clear view at the crops I am growing. “When you mentioned apple picking, I never pictured this.”

I fold my arms over my chest and watch as she walks towards the rows of apple trees I have spent years growing. She reaches for one, but turns to me before she picks the fruit and I nod forher to go ahead. She flashes me a smile and picks one, her eyes lighting up when she bites into the fruit.

Fuck, she looks so goddamned pussyy, standing there dressed in nothing but my flannel shirt, smelling of me and eating my fruit. Does she have any idea that she’s quickly getting sucked into my world, and with every second she spends around me, she lowers her chances of ever leaving this place?

Mine!

Jean turns around to face me, her long blond hair whipping around when she does so. “Do you want one?” she offers but I shake my head, walking towards her to join her under the apple tree. I reach up for two ripe red ones and pass them to her. “Thank you,” she says with a shy smile.

“Do you like them?”

“I do. They taste so much better than the store-bought ones.” She looks up at me and her eyes squint against the harsh evening sun and I am tempted to look away, to hide the imperfection that is my face, but then that would mean missing out on watching those perfect blue eyes in their purest form. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“How long have you lived here?”

So long I have forgotten about my old life back in the town that turned its back on me, but I don’t want my precious angel to look at me with pity, so I give her the standard answer. “I moved here when I was roughly twenty so fourteen years, give or take.”

“B-but you’ve left, right? You don’t live here all year round, right?”

I shake my head. “This is my home, Angel. I don’t leave the mountains for anything.”

Her eyes widen in disbelief. “B-but, what about supplies? How do you get anything up here if you’ve never left?”

“I have everything I need here. I hunt for food, fish in the river, and forage for fruits and nuts that I can’t grow myself. The other essentials are brought up by my brother every few months when we meet.”

The day I almost choked Tommy to death, I ran into the mountains where I stayed for two days living off berries before I was arrested. I expected to be ferried to prison, but everyone felt sorry for the ugly, scared kid who’d just lost his parents in a fateful accident, and I was in jail for only a week before they let me go.