Mountain Boss (Mountain Men, #1)

by S.J. Tilly

This book contains mature themes, violence and… a touch of stalking.

This book is dedicated to the bears and to fictional men in flannel. We love you.

The moment I saw her, this creature named Courtney, I wanted her. I secretly hoped she was lost and that this was going to turn into some X-rated Hallmark in the woods scene. But no. Now I need to be professional. I need to keep my hands off her. I need to keep my dick in my pants. And I need to make her quit.

I have some eye candy for the next three months, even if his flavor is sour.

I’m not tough. But I am desperate. And sometimes, that’s the same thing.

It’s be an asshole or seduce her. So I guess I’m gonna keep being an asshole.

I’m tempted to trip him. But I don’t. Because I’m mature. Unlike him. Then Courtney smiles at Fisher, and I regret the not-tripping.

The urge to throw the rest of my cookie away hits me right in the sternum. And that makes anger swell within my sadness. Cookies shouldn’t go in the trash. Only men.

The words of men will not define me. The opinion of others will not destroy me.

How temping it was to slip a pair of her panties into my pocket. How I did. And how I put them back. But I didn’t put them back because I’m a good man. I did it because they were clean.

I got too close to her yesterday. I can’t do that again. I’m going to set some new boundaries for myself. Just as soon as I jerk off. Again.

“I don’t want to catch you flirting with other men again, Cookie.” His breath is hot against my ear, and it takes everything in me to stay upright. “Say, yes, sir.”

She should save that surprise for when she finds a pair of her dirty panties missing.

Heat builds in my stomach as I think about him, and I know I’m going to end tonight the same way I ended last night, with my hand in my pajama pants, thinking of him.

“Christ, woman. Do you have no survival instincts?”

“I called you Cookie for two reasons. And neither of them had anything to do with the shape of your perfect fucking body.” He takes a step closer, finally following me. “Reason one.” He steps forward again, raising his hand and holding up one finger. “You literally threw a cookie at me. And two.” He holds up a second finger. “I call you Cookie because you’re sweet and delicate and”—he reaches out and grips one of my braids—“I want to eat you.”

“Keep your ass right here, Cookie.” He rolls his hips. “Let me pretend I’m inside you.”

“Such a good listener.”

He’s such a mix of gruff and swoon that my body just melts around him.