Page 13 of New Home for the Holidays

With every pump of my hips, her pussy begs me to not leave her depths. When I kiss her, she’s the one to plunge her tongue into my mouth, moaning and begging for more with every movement. I swallow every sound, wanting all of her for myself and needing even more.

As our bodies move together, I can’t help but pump my hips faster and harder. She’s right there to meet my movements, her body pleading for more. Who the hell am I deny this woman, my Treasure, anything?

“Oh,” she moans, “Walker, I’m so damn close.”

“That’s right,” I grunt, “you’re going to come all over my cock and milk the cum right from my balls. Show me,” I pant, “show me that you’re mine.”

My words push her over the edge and her body tenses as she clings to me and her pussy squeezes me so damn tight that my balls draw up tight and tingles shoot up my spine. Every jet of my cum paints her walls as stars dance in front of my eyes.

We’re panting messes as we float down from the stratosphere. I pepper kisses all over her face and flex my hips, realizing I’m still hard. Well, fuck, that’s never happened to me before.

I grin down at my woman and take in her glazed over eyes and the flush of satisfaction covering her beautiful body. “I hope you’re not tired, Treasure, because I’m just getting started.”

She squeals as I roll us, and my hands start to roam over her body. Fucking hell. There’s no way I’m done with her for tonight. Or ever.

CHAPTER 6

MORGAN

The first thing I become aware of is the heavy weight of an arm wrapped around my waist. I suck in a sharp breath as everything from last night comes rushing back. I didn’t even finish one drink, so nothing that happened last night with Walker was because of alcohol. Still, it was completely out of character for me.

I’m not the person to do one-night stands and I don’t pick up guys at bars. It’s just not my style. I’ve always required an emotional connection to have sex with someone which hasn’t happened very often.

You have an emotional connection with Walker, just because it was fast doesn’t mean it’s not there.

I soak up the feeling of calm coming from Walker who is wrapped around me like he’s afraid to let me go. It’s almost comical considering I’m not going to run from my own home.Not like I’m not tempted to pull a runner, but it would be pretty silly for me to actually do it.

Right?

Yeah, totally silly. Ridiculous even. Totally wrong of me.

Walker tightens his arm around my waist, his voice a sexy rasp first thing in the morning, “I can hear how loud you’re thinking, Treasure.”

Treasure.

How the hell did he manage to call me the same nickname from my dream? It threw me the first time he used it for sure. I mean, what are the odds? Now though, it feels natural.

Which is scary as hell.

I squeeze my eyes shut and try to even out my breathing. Maybe pretending I’m still asleep will give me some sort of stay of execution. The only thing I get for the attempt is Walker chuckling which I feel rumble through me from where his chest is pressed against my back.

“I know you’re awake, Morgan,” there’s amusement in his tone.

I try to curl in on myself, but Walker is right there and doesn’t allow it. He rolls me effortlessly and then he’s hovering above me. His dark eyes search my face, but I have no idea what he’s looking for.

Can he see my doubts? My reservations?

Part of me wishes I could regret what happened last night since it’s so out of character for me, but it’s impossible to muster up that emotion. I don’t regret it. Which, possibly, is why I’m starting to freak out.

On paper there is nothing about what happened last night that I shouldn’t regret. Yet here I am craving more from this man. Yearning for everything.

“Morgan,” he sighs gently, but surprisingly he doesn’t sound fed up with me even though he probably should be, “I’m not going to allow you to push me away or try and deny what’s between us.”

My voice is small and vulnerable, “Whatisbetween us?”

There’s a challenge in the dark glint of Walker’s eyes. Is he daring me to put it into words? To acknowledge it?

Then it’ll be all too real and I’m not sure if I’m ready for that.

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