Page 13 of Love Me Fearless

But I don’t do that. If anything, the steady pace of our footsteps only makes my craving tighter, hotter. And it must be the same for him, too, because once inside our cabin, he shuffles me to the little table below the window—the closest available surface—and lifts me onto it. My thighs part like he already has command of my body. To my overloaded brain, it feels like yet another sign what’s happening is exactly as it’s supposed to be.

Nothing to fear here.

If only that were true. We’re crossing the line we established long ago—or did we? I should care more. I should worry about what will happen…after.

He caresses up my bare thighs, his touch silencing my thoughts. I can’t turn off what my body is screaming for me to have. So I wrap my thighs around his, bringing where he’s hard and thick exactly where I need him.

He swallows the whimper escaping my throat with a hungry, sensual kiss that makes my toes curl. I grip the back of his neck and arch my hips to his, wanting more friction, more pressure, more…

“Patience, Greely,” he coos in my ear, sending a wave of prickles down my spine.

I groan, because of course he’s read my mind. “Watch it, or two can play that game.”

“A challenge, huh?” He lifts my sweatshirt and tosses it aside.Without my bra, my nipples are painfully erect beneath my thin T-shirt.

“Count on it.”

He cradles my face again and our lips touch, his tongue flicking with mine. The heat between us is like a physical thing, pressing me in on all sides, making me ache.

I pull his shirt tails from his pants and caress underneath. Touching him is like a sexy anatomy lesson—his abs and obliques and pecs are tight and muscular, honed and strong after countless hours of training. Everything about him is steely and manly and hard. I want him on me everywhere while his firm, possessive touch roams my body.

He yanks his shirt over his head and whips it aside, then arches down to mark my shoulder, collarbone, the crook of my neck with little nibbles. His fingers curl into my hair, pulling my head to the side. It’s demanding, but I’d expect nothing less from this man. Maybe it’s why I’ve never let myself imagine this. Because I might like the way he takes control a little too much.

He grips my upper thigh with his other hand, his thumb dangerously close to where my heartbeat is thrumming to an urgent ache. I brace off the table behind me, giving me precious leverage to keep our bodies pressed close.

“You smell so good,” he says on a groan, kissing up to my ear, “I want to kiss you everywhere.”

I bite my tongue from begging him to do just that, andpretty please right now, because I’m not ready for him to see how crazy he’s making me.

He glides the flat of his hand down the curve of my back as we kiss again in a burst of heat and hunger, his lips sensual and his tongue relentless. Beneath my shorts, his thumb sweeps up, igniting my skin.

“Fuck,” he groans, gliding with the pad of his thumb. He’s barely touched me and already my arousal is throbbing so hard my spine is vibrating.

He hooks my shorts in his fingers and tugs them down. “Where the hell are your panties?” He scolds, though what’s underneath that tone is an edge of longing, of need. That he could feel that way about me sends more butterflies racing up my throat.

“I don’t wear them to bed.”

“Good thing I didn’t know that last night.” He strokes my pussy with the flat of his fingers, drawing a shuddering gasp from my lips.

I want to ask what he means because it’s dangerous, the kind of thought that could crack my heart right open, and I’m not getting hurt like that. Not by him.

He urges my thighs apart and scoops my ass closer to the edge of the table, then caresses me in all the right ways, his fingers firm and sensual. My thighs start to tremble and my breaths come faster against his lips. As if reading my mind, he slowly sinks his finger inside me.

He swallows the whimper working its way up my throat with a slow, seductive kiss while his touch draws all my focus to one single craving. His thumb presses my clit with each thrust, making me want everything faster, harder. I wrap my arms around his neck and hang on, burying my face into the crook of his neck.

“That’s it,” he praises as I pant against his skin.

The knot inside me snaps and the tension and heat bundled so tight spirals free, turning the ache into something bright and joyful. I utter a cry as Hutch pushes me over the edge. He holds me there as my body grows languid and heavy. I rock into his arms and hold him tight.

He lifts me from the table, cradling the back of my head to keep me close. “Fucking beautiful,” he says into my hair.

“That…was amazing,” I manage as the room slowly spins back into focus.

He chuckles. “Catch your breath, Greely, ‘cause we can do better than that.”

I laugh into his shoulder as he carries me to the ladder.

Chapter Four

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