Page 73 of Unstable

I SLOWLY OPEN MYeyes, cocooned in a soothing heat unlike anything I’ve ever felt.

Massive legs are entwined with mine and brawny arms wrap around me like strong, protective vines…a second blanket. Hot, heavy breaths warm my neck in rhythmic, feathery bursts.

Keaton Fucking Cash—yes, he’s earned back the patented endearment—absolutely, fully surrounds me. Slept with me all night. Covered me as if to keep me, as though he may never get the chance again.

I turn my head as slowly and with as little motion as I can to peer back over my shoulder at him. Only to be met with open, sleepy blue eyes and a contented smile that sends my belly quivering. Because it perfectly portrays the peace I feel too.

“Morning, Darlin’,” his voice is raspy, thick with sexy sleepiness.

“Morning,” I mumble somewhat shyly, trying to scoot over, only to be immediately denied by his tightening hold on me.

“Sleep good?” he asks.

I did, amazingly so. Not a single thought, worry, or dream of what today holds disrupting my sanctity. But no need to disclose such detail.

“Yeah, you?”

“Whadda you think? You fit so perfectly against me, Hen. Took everything in me to just hold you and let you sleep. Swear to God, if you’d have scooted that sweet lil’ ass closer into me one more time, I may have lost the ability to be a gentleman.” His chuckle is unapologetic.

“I can’t believe we slept together.”

“Lord, I wish it was actually how you make it sound.” His hand moves lower on my stomach, creeping toward places that will send this morning scorching in all new directions.

“I’ve, uh, gotta get up and take care of Bourbon. And what about your farm? You spend so much time here, who’s tending to your stuff?”

“Most my stuff’s ahead for the season, but my lead hand’s excellent at the small day to day tasks. No need to worry.” He taps the end of my nose. “Good job on the subject change though. Go ahead and see to Bourbon and get ready. I’m gonna run home and take a shower then I’ll be back to pick you up. Time to go pay that bastard a visit and put his bullshit to bed.”

He gets up first and nothing short of a sudden house fire could make me move, tear my eyes away. He’d slept in only gray boxer briefs, the kind that hug his upper thighs and round, full ass in perfect, mouthwatering form. His back is tan and muscular and the ass on him…did I mention it’s sheer perfection?

“Pretty damn fond of yours too, baby,” he laughs, turning with a cocky grin to torture me with the front view.

My eyes skim his chest, still magnificent, and take a second to appreciate the line of dark hair leading down from his belly button and those deep dents at his hips that have me forgetting my own name to…land squarely on his dick.

It’s hard, very hard, the thin material of his boxer briefs painting me an almost perfect picture. I can see he’s built long and abnormally, I’m guessing, thick, with the tip of his engorged head peeking above his waistband.

I blink, licking my lips, and look again, just to make sure I’m not exaggerating what I see.

I’m not.

“That’s it,” he rumbles, crawling back in the bed, dragging me into the middle and placing his body over the top of mine. “Henny, you can’t lick your lips and give me ‘please fuck me’ eyes and expect me to resist.” He hovers over me, enough weight braced on his forearms on either side of my head so as to not crush me, but not so much that his raging hard-on doesn’t line up and tease between my legs.

“Want something, anything, baby? It’ll relax us both for the day. You pick—my hands, fingers, mouth, dick—and where you want it. But you gotta pick something, or I’m gonna go insane.”

I refuse to say “all of the above and everywhere” even though it’s on the tip of my tongue. Slow and steady wins the race, and I want slow—a chance to savor each stage of absorbing Keaton into my body and soul.

“Surprise me,” I whisper. “But not…not with everything…you know?” I blush.

A sensuous flame stokes in his eyes and his mouth curls in sexy gratification.

He raises himself up and takes my hands, guiding my arms up over my head, then gradually, watching every second of it, lifts my shirt off too. “So fucking gorgeous,” he praises deeply, eyes glued to my naked breasts.

His hands glide up my stomach, trembling beneath his touch, ‘til he’s palming both of my breasts. Rubbing, massaging, taking his time to get to know their weight, shape, and feel. “Perfect,” he grunts, squeezing harder.

He again lowers himself and his head, taking one breast in his mouth. I gasp, my back arching off the bed and he sucks harder in response. He licks and sucks, flicking the painfully hard tip of my nipple and bites, with precise force, drawing a wail of desire from me.

Without time for a full breath, he switches, showing the same attention to the other one with his mouth, while still playing the last with his hand, rolling and pinching the nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

Then his hand disappears, quickly returning to trail a sizzling path back down my stomach, sliding inside my shorts. And panties. Every muscle in me clenches, and there’s a warm gush of anticipation between my legs and a prickle in my pelvis.

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