Page 51 of Rescued By the Mountain Man

I needed this. I needed her in my arms, shaking and whispering my name; I needed her trembling, coming, and being utterly, completely mine. She was on the wall, and I had her knees over my elbows, and the tip bumping against her slick wetness.

Easing her down, I sank into that perfect tight channel in one thrust, her tight channel enveloping me to the hilt, her legs locking around me. I couldn’t go slow—it was impossible.

I fucked into her, hard, the last thread of my control snapping in two. My hips snapped in and out, rough and raw. Her belly flexed under mine as I hit every sensitive, tender spot inside her, her slender legs tightening, hips rolling and flexing.

We moved harder this time, faster, our slick bodies hammering together. I pushed her, she pushed back, mindless, instinctive. I wanted more. I needed more. I had to get more, like I needed air. It was dirty and rough, it was hard, deep. It was ruthless and raw. We moved fast, chasing that high.

Zara shouted my name as her body became a vice around me, her body shuddering and impossibly tight, one hand in my hair, the nails of the other digging into my skin. I exploded inside her and couldn’t stop, draining myself in spasm after spasm.

“Jesus,” she looped her arms around my neck. “I don’t think I’ve come that hard…ever.”

I kissed her neck and gently let her down, littering kisses on her face and neck as the water rained over us. “How did you do it?”

She smoothed her hair from her eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Get me to feel something again,” I replied.

I could not stop staring into her eyes, no matter how much it hurt. Into her deep green gaze while mine, I was sure, was full of emotion. Emotion I couldn’t define—not yet.

A long pause. She met my gaze. I saw so much emotion there, but nothing like before when I’d been inside her. This wasn’t something I had planned—neither had she. I had not expected anything to come from this but a little fun. I expected her to laugh and snap some quip.

Now, it was pretty clear what I saw.

No ambiguity.

Regret.

“We can’t do this, Warrick,” she said. “We cannot become something…anything.”

I knew that, but I pressed. “Why?”

Her head dropped. “I won’t be here long; you know this.”

“Zara—”

“Please, let me out,” she said, shifting to the door.

I knew enough not to protest when a woman said she wanted out, so I moved. She slid out of the shower and tugged a towel off the rack. I didn’t watch as she slipped out of the room, and the moment the door closed, I sagged against the wall and ran my hand over my face.

“Good going, jackass,” I murmured. “Now, she is gonna run.”

Grimacing, I finished showering, and by the time I got to the room, she and Goose were gone. I knew she had not taken the truck because her stuff was still here; maybe she just needed a second to herself.

My phone rang after I had gotten the fish out and the pot on the stove—it was Treeve. My brows dipped; why was the Mayor calling me so late?

“Donovan here,” I said.

“Warrick,” Gregory said. “I’m sorry to call you so late, but Mister Drayton wants to speak with you about a couple of things at the Silver Spur Saloon, tonight, you and your young lady, the PA. He said that explicitly.”

My head snapped back. “He asked for Z—Miss Harrington?”

“Yes, and offered to pay for dinner, too, anything you want,” Treeve said. “I am sorry to cut your getaway short, but he needs to see you both tonight.”

I sighed and shoved the fish back into the cooler. I would have to swing back here sometime between tonight and tomorrow to get them. I had a feeling Zara wouldn’t want to come back up here tonight. I looked up to the loft and grimaced; we hadn’t even had a night up there properly.

Stepping outside, I went down to the pond and found Zara and Goose, my big dog paddling in circles. I whistled, and he came running. Then I faced Zara, “We have to get to town. Mayor Treeve came a’ callin’, and we have to go.”

She nodded. “I’ll change into something better, and we’ll go.”

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