Coming Home to the Mountain: Complete Edition

11. Lemon

CHAPTER 11

Lemon

W e don't stay long at my parents' house. Everyone there is exhausted, worn-out from the day, and emotionally drained.

Anchor puts my coat on for me while we're standing in the foyer of my childhood home, and I turn to look at him, wondering what he feels standing here in this place that is full of all of my memories.

He's smiling and that warms my heart in ways I don't think he could know.

"I've never brought a man home," I tell him.

"What about a boy?" he teases.

I smile. "I mean, I did have a prom date."

"Who was that?" he asks. "Competition?"

"No, it was a guy named Derek. He works with my brother at the police station and he's nice enough, but no, he was nothing more than a date."

"Did he get a goodnight kiss?"

Heat rises to my cheeks. "No, he did not."

"I wouldn't mind if he had; I'm just looking for the details."

"And did Bianca on this reality show that you were apparently on get a kiss?"

He groans. "She did not. We were mortal enemies. I would say you should watch the season to understand but that is the last thing I want you to do."

We're outside walking toward his Jeep. The air is cool and crisp. It's chilly here in the mountains. It was a lot warmer out on Stout Lake.

"You don't want me to watch the show?" I ask.

“Please, no.” He chuckles.

"So what do you want me to do?" I ask, knowing my words are laced with want.

He groans as he opens the door of the Jeep for me. "I want to go to bed with you," he tells me, "that's what I really fucking want." His words are low. There's a growl in his voice and it sends a shiver up my spine, arousing a need.

I bite my bottom lip. "So why aren't you already in the driver’s seat taking me to my house?"

"You're demanding." He chuckles, leaning in and kissing my cheek.

"I guess I am." I smile though, as he climbs into his seat.

"So, I need directions. I may have slept with you last night but I have no idea where you live."

I guide the way, and soon enough, we are driving home through the small town where I grew up.

"Turn here," I say, pointing to Snug Street. We pass the intersection of the bookshop and toy store.

"Home Run Sports," he says, reading the signage as we pass the businesses on the road. "Is everything a pun here?"

"Half of it is," I say with a laugh.

"Homer Heritage Park," he reads, taking in the beautiful gazebo at the local park.

"Yeah, that was named after my great, great grandfather who founded the town."

"And Annabelle Rough Elementary School?" He looks at me. "Another relative?"

I nod. "Homer's wife."

"Wow," he says, "so you guys aren't just the Rough family; you literally settled this town."

"Does that overwhelm you?" I ask. "I told you my family's here. All my history is right in this town." She looks at me nervously like it might be too much, and I'd be lying if I said it doesn't feel like an awful lot.

She's a hometown girl through and through.

"Right here," she says as we pass Gentle Grove. "That's my cottage. And it was my great, great grandparents' place—Annabelle and Homer’s—but it's my home now."

I park my car in the driveway, taking it in. The front of it is covered in stones. It's a nice, tidy two-story house with a chimney, a green lawn.

"This place looks like you," he says.

"I don't know what that means," I admit.

"It's charming and cozy and cute."

"Am I more than cute?" I ask him, willfully wanting him to tell me I'm drop-dead sexy. That I'm the only woman he wants, the woman he needs. Turns out I don't have to will anything into existence because when Anchor draws me to him, he kisses me hard with intention, with want, with a need that I match.

"Damn," he growls, his warm breath in my ear as our lips part. "Fuck, I want you."

"Then let's get out of the car," I tell him, my body on fire, hot with need. He grabs our bags from the trunk and I walk up the front steps, eager, ready, his. I unlock the front door and flick on a light.

"Home sweet home," he says.

"What do you think? I know it's not some fancy modern lake house like you just bought but..."

"No," he says, "it's perfect."

"I know my family's home was probably a little overwhelming," I tell him.

"It was," he says, his arms wrapping around me again after I lock the door. "I've never been around a family like that. A family like yours. You're all just so fucking wholesome."

I laugh. "I don't know about that. Rye is rough around the edges, and my brother Mac’s a bit of an asshole. Well, you met him earlier today, and Fig, well, she is a wild child at heart."

"And you?" he asks me.

I sigh. "I'm the good girl. I'm like my brother Bartlett in that he played it safe his whole life doing what was expected of him."

"What do you really want?" he asks me. "Besides the getting married part, which you confessed last night."

I smile. My shoulders fall. I close my eyes. "I want to feel this good forever, which is a miracle considering the news I got today. Somehow with you, it feels like I could get through the worst of things." I sigh. "That's crazy to say. We just met."

"It's not crazy," he says. "I mean, it is a little crazy, but we can be crazy together." He kisses me again, not like he did in the car, which was deep and raw. This is something more, something real. This is a letting go and giving in and saying, Yes, please.

We move into my bedroom. "I've never had a guy here," I tell him.

"Is it too much at once?" he asks.

I shake my head as I pull off my shirt, my skirt, my panties, my bra, wanting to be bare naked in front of this man who makes me feel alive in a way I have been wanting for my whole damn life.

"Fuck," he groans. "You're so beautiful, Lemon. Every fucking inch of you is perfect."

"Stop," I say, "you're too much."

"No," he argues, "I'm just what you need."

He's right about that as he strips down too, his hard cock thick and ready. I'm wet in ways I didn't know I could possibly be. We're both new at this. Yet somehow when we roll in that bed, it's like we've done it a thousand times. And yet it feels like the first time all over again.

His eyes are on mine as he leans on top of me, over me, in me. He's cradling me in his arms and looking deep into my eyes.

"I'm scared," he admits as I run my hand over his bare back, his ass. He centers his cock inside of me, beginning to inch deeper inside. I moan, whimper.

"Let go. What are you scared of?" I ask him.

"Of all of this." He fills me up, admitting his truth, that all of this might be just a little more than he can handle. I close my eyes, feeling the pleasure, pushing away the pain that might be coming for me if my desire outweighs his own.

"You don't want this?" I ask, my voice barely a whisper, my body aching to give him everything.

He fills me up and I roll him over onto his back, straddling him, in control. He runs his hands over my breasts and I dip my body down, letting him suck one nipple then the next. Even as I move, I'm realizing I'm drowning in a man who might be terrified to jump into the water.

"Are you pulling away before we've given ourselves a chance?" I ask, licking my lips, my head falling back. Pleasure rolling over me.

"I want this. I do. I just, fuck, I don't want to ruin anything. I don't want to mess this up. I just..."

"Forget all of that right now," I tell him. "Just enjoy this for what it is then. We don't have to put labels on something we just discovered, you and me. We can be friends." I smile though. And so does he.

"Friends don't fuck like this," he tells me, his hand on my ass.

"I think you're right," I tell him. "Oh god," I moan, my hips moving in a circle as he thrusts deep inside of me, his cock filling me up, stretching me out, making me wet, making me drip. "Oh god," I whimper, my skin on fire, my nipples hard, the orgasm building in a way that I know is going to be loud.

"Come on, girl," he says, his hands on my hips, taking me to the place we both want to go, the end of the world as we know it.

"Oh, Anchor," I moan, panting as I come.

"Fuck," he says, his thick release filling me up, making me whole.

I kiss him, hoping that none of this ends, hoping this is just the beginning.