Page 22 of Out on a Limb

I bend down and lick her from collarbone to chin, my heart pounding. Tastes faintly of soap and salt.

Somehow, someway, my shirt hits the cabin wall. Don’t need that fire in the log burner now, not with the lava pulsing through my veins and the way we’re clawing at each other, bare skin against bare skin, desperate to get as close as we can go. Jana’s so much smaller than me, soft where I’m hard, curved where I’m straight lines, and it’s so fucking perfect it makes my teeth ache.

She jumps up and wraps her legs around my waist, nails digging into the meat of my shoulders. Though she’s a small little thing, she’s compact and curvy, and my muscles tense at the sudden weight. Yes.

“Tell me to stop,” I mutter, stumbling toward the bed. “Jana, tell me to stop and I will.”

She bites my earlobe and tugs with her teeth. The beast inside me roars in triumph, and I move faster.

The mattress springs wail as I toss Jana bouncing down on the covers, no ceremony or grace. She huffs and sits up, then reaches over to drag me onto the bed by my belt.

“Get this off.” She yanks at the leather strap, growling with frustration. Never heard Jana be so impatient, and let me tell you: it makes me harder than rock. It’s one thing being starved for her, but knowing she feels the same way? Game changer. Next level. “Get it off.”

The leather creaks and the buckle clinks as I undo my belt with shaking hands. The jeans go next, shoved down my thighs with my boxers tangled up inside, then the whole lot are kicked onto the rug.

“Yes,” Jana hisses, the second I crawl on top of her, naked. Her bare legs rub against mine, her chest arching up in search of contact, and fuck, I need to think about this. Need to be smart. She freaked out after a few kisses, right?

We need to slow down.

“Jana,” I say. “Maybe we should—”

Slender fingers wrap around my cock and give an experimental tug. White noise fills my suddenly empty brain, static crackling along my synapses.

We should… what?

What was I going to say? I don’t remember.

Don’t remember my own fucking name.

Because it’s her. Jana. It’s everything I’ve been craving since the night we met: her hand on me, the pad of her thumb rubbing circles over the head of my cock; her thighs squeezing my waist; her breath misting against my ear as she tugs me down to flatten her.

“Please,” she whispers. “Please.”

And that’s it, you know? The one thing I can’t refuse: Jana Kumara begging me in that throaty voice. Even if this is a huge mistake, even if I’m screwing up royally, I can’t say no to this woman. Not when she needs me and coconut scented steam laces the air.

Not when I’m dying to press inside her. To feel her wet warmth.

Not when I’m tired of running from things.

My elbow sinks into the pillow as I prop it by her head. “You ready?”

Jana nods.

I notch at her entrance, my pulse thudding in my wrists, my throat, my cock. We’re twisted together in the center of the bed, the covers rucked up around us like waves crashing on a shore. Jana’s chest heaves beneath me, and she tilts her hips up, eyelids fluttering.

“Please, Stig.”

There it is. I’m a doomed man.

Teeth gritted, I push inside.

Twelve

Jana

You know, you might think you’re ready to have sex for the first time, but when a broad-chested, muscly, six-foot-something adventurer stretches out on top of you, it’s only natural for alarm bells to ring in your brain. Especially after feeling his cock, and measuring the thick girth with your fingers. Especially when the blunt head presses against your core, and all you can think is: no freaking way.

No way is that thing gonna fit inside me.

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