Page 19 of The Mountains Edge

I let her strip it off, her hands exploring newly exposed skin. Her fingers trace my scars like she's learning braille.

"Marcus." Breathy plea.

"Patience."

"I’m done with patience." She rolls her hips against me. "I’ve been patient for weeks."

The dress falls down, revealing black lace underneath. The sight short-circuits my brain.

"Like it?" She smirks. "Bought it special."

I trace the edge with rough fingers, watching her shiver. "For me?"

"No, for the other mountain man I'm seducing." She gasps as I nip her collarbone. "Okay, yes. For you."

My hands span her waist, thumbs stroking bare skin. I explore her skin with mouth and hands, learning what makes her gasp, what makes her moan. She writhes under my touch, growing desperate.

"Please."

"Please what?"

"Touch me." She grabs my hand, guiding it where she wants. "Here."

Jesus Christ.

I trace her through black lace, watching her fall apart. Her nails dig into my shoulders as she rocks against my hand.

Her hands find my belt, clever fingers working the buckle. I catch her wrists, pinning them over her head.

"Behave."

Her eyes darken. "Make me."

I kiss her hard, swallowing her moan. Keep her wrists pinned with one hand while the other travels south again.

"Like that?" I murmur against her throat.

"More."

I oblige, watching her come undone. She's magnificent, all wild hair and flushed skin, fighting my grip.

"Let me touch you," she begs.

"No."

She swears creatively, then gasps as I find a sensitive spot. "Marcus."

"Hmm?"

"I hate you."

I bite her pulse point. "No you don't."

Her response is lost in a moan as I increase pressure. She's close. I can feel it in the tremors wracking her body.

"Let go," I murmur. "I've got you."

She shatters beautifully.

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