Page 88 of Untamed

I refuse to look at his face, knowing the lust is written all over mine in bold black ink. Without a word, I open the door and lock myself in the bathroom before even looking at the bed.

My bright aqua eyes stare back at me in the mirror. “Tonight is the night,” I whisper.

Giving myself up to him feels inevitable as I pull my hair back. He’s too much for me to resist, this past week too traumatic for me to even contemplate saying no to my rescuer even if he is a killer.

Even the bathroom is decorated perfectly with muted green square tiles and a gold-framed mirror. The shower is plenty big enough for two. Holden knocks on the door as soon as I’m naked, nearly stopping my heart.

“Your bag is out here. I’m going to get us some ice,” he says through the door.

Once I hear the room door close, I reach out to grab my bag, thankful for everything but especially the razor.

Every inch of me is silky-smooth, scrubbed clean, and lotioned up twenty minutes later. I dab just a tad bit of concealer to cover the remainder of the bruises on my face and side. I want him to think I’m more healed so he won’t be gentle with me.

After brushing my teeth, I observe myself one more time in the mirror. I remove my hair from the bun, letting it spill around my bare shoulders before I reach for the door, still completely naked.

My limbs shake as I walk out, feigning confidence as best I can. Holden is sprawled out in an armchair in the corner. He’s holding a glass of wine in one hand, the other resting on his thigh. He’s changed into a plain white wife-beater and removed his cowboy hat. His eyes darken a shade, sliding over every inch of my skin at a leisurely pace. My nipples pucker under the inspection, my skin pricking with goose bumps. He takes a slow sip of the red liquid, the bulge between his legs noticeably growing.

For me.

Instead of walking over to him, I move to the dresser and grab the straw Stetson, placing it on my head. My long red tresses are spilling in big waves around my heavy breasts. He exhales, his neck veins bulging out.

The drapes on the window are open, revealing the dark mountain in the distance. The courtyard below is lit with lanterns. My bare feet meet the soft rug spread on the floor of the room as I make my way over to him.

He doesn’t take his eyes off of mine as I finally stand before him, merely inches away. He hands me the glass of wine, reaching for another one beside him on the table. I drain the entire thing in one long gulp, needing every drop of liquid courage in this moment.

Every moment that has led us here has created a staggering amount of tension. He takes the empty glass from me before gripping my fingers and tugging me into his lap. I straddle him, gasping at the instant roughness of the denim on my pussy. His fingers make contact with my nipples, pinching each one softly before increasing the pressure, nearing the realm of pain.

His ebony eyes don’t leave my face as he plays with my body, testing my reactions. He makes a mental note of what I like, what makes me gasp, moan, and clench my thighs together. Once my nipples are raw and my arousal has coated his jeans, he dips his head down and sucks my breast into his mouth.

“Oh fuck.” I gasp and tip my head back, closing my eyes as the pleasure of his tongue marks another part of my body.

One of his hands reaches around to hold my lower back. The other begins to slowly knead my ass with strong fingers. A fire builds inside my core, the pressure between my legs growing without him even touching me there.

He switches to the other nipple right when I think I might cry from the intensity.

“Holden,” I gasp, clawing at his shoulders.

I need more, more friction, more of him. I dip my head down to pepper his neck with kisses and nibbles. He growls, rising up from the chair with me wrapped around him. His mouth pops off of my breast, and his lips crash to mine. His strong arms hold me up, our tongues hungry and devouring each other with a layer of desperation we’re both too exhausted to keep hiding.

He pulls away, his lips swollen and pink as he looks up at me, black-brown eyes shiny and unguarded. My arms are latched around his neck. The pressure from his dick digging into me is nearly enough to make me come with each tiny movement of his steps toward the bed.

“Are you ready for this, angel? I don’t think I can be gentle with you.” His tone has a desperate edge, like he’s silently begging for me to either give in to him or run away screaming.

“I want it. I want you. Please … please fuck me,” I whimper in his arms, begging him with my eyes and my words.

Something snaps in him at my plea. He tosses me back on the bed, my ass meeting the covers as he pulls the shirt off and starts working on his belt. He removes the pistol tucked into his waistband and sets it on the nightstand before tugging off the Wranglers and his boxers in one movement.

I adjust the hat on my head, biting my lower lip as his dick springs out. I’ve never seen one before, only felt it through his jeans. I gulp, staring at it.

It’s way too big to fit inside me—that’s for damn sure.

He grabs my ankle, pulling me toward him. “What’s the matter, Dixon? Never seen a man fully hard before?”

I shake my head, which causes him to pause, but not let go of me. I prop myself up onto my elbows, finally looking away from it and into his eyes.

“How limited … is your experience?” He nearly chokes on the words.

My eyes widen. Did he just ask me for details on how many bases I got to with his brother?

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