Page 24 of Mountain Protector

“Stay with me,” he commands, his voice anchoring me as pleasure builds to almost unbearable levels. “I’ve got you. Let go.”

His thumb continues its relentless circles as his fingers move within me, and I can feel myself tightening around him. The pressure builds and builds, a coiling tension unlike anything I’ve experienced before.

“Clay,” I gasp, my hands clutching at his shoulders, his back, anywhere I can reach. My body trembles on the edge of something monumental. “I can’t—it’s too?—“

“You can,” he says, his voice brooking no argument. “Your body was made for this. Made for me.” His eyes lock with mine, intense and commanding. “Show me what I do to you, Ruby. Show me how I make you feel.”

The combination of his words and his touch pushes me over the edge. The orgasm crashes through me with an intensity that steals my breath, my body arching off the couch as waves of pleasure radiate outward from my core. I cry out his name, the sound torn from my throat as my body convulses around his fingers.

Clay doesn’t let up, working me through each pulse of pleasure until I’m trembling and oversensitive. Only then does he slow his movements, pressing soft kisses to my forehead, my cheeks, my lips as I struggle to catch my breath.

As I come down from the high, breathing hard, I open my eyes to find him watching me with an expression of male satisfaction mixed with something deeper, more tender. The intensity of what just happened hits me all at once—I’ve never been that vulnerable, that exposed with anyone before. Never let anyone see me lose control so completely.

“You’re incredible,” he murmurs against my mouth. “So responsive. So perfect.”

I can feel him still hard against my thigh, his own need unmet. I reach between us, my hand finding him through his sweatpants, and he hisses through his teeth at the contact.

“My turn,” I whisper, squeezing gently, though I have only the vaguest idea of what to do next.

Clay catches my wrist, stilling my movement. His eyes are dark, intense as they meet mine. “Not here,” he says, his voice rough with restraint. “When I take you, it’ll be in my bed.”

The words send a fresh wave of heat through me. Moving to his bedroom feels significant—a deliberate choice rather than getting carried away in the moment. It also means more than what we’ve already done, and despite my inexperience, I know exactly what he’s suggesting.

“Is that an invitation?” I ask, my voice steadier than I feel.

Clay stands, pulling me up with him. Our bodies press together, the height difference between us more apparent as I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. He’s still fully clothed, and I’m topless, but I feel no urge to cover myself.

“It’s more than an invitation,” he says, his eyes serious despite the desire darkening them. “It’s a promise.”

He bends down, his mouth capturing mine in a kiss that’s both tender and possessive. When he pulls back, his expression has transformed into something feral, hungry. He scoops me up in his arms like I weigh nothing, and I let out a surprised laugh as he carries me toward the bedroom.

“I can walk, you know,” I say, though I make no move to get down.

“I know,” he replies, his voice a low rumble. “But I’ve dreamed of carrying you to my bed since the moment I saw you.”

ChapterSix

CLAY

I guideRuby into my bedroom, my hand firm against the small of her back. The heat of her skin burns through her thin tank top, sending electricity straight to my core. My cabin’s dark except for the soft glow from the bedside lamp I flip on, casting her in amber light that makes her hair look like living flame.

She’s so fucking beautiful it hurts to look at her.

“Nice place,” she says, but her eyes aren’t on the room. They’re fixed on me, pupils dilated with the same hunger that’s been clawing at my insides since I first laid eyes on her.

I don’t respond with words. Can’t. My throat’s too tight with wanting her. Instead, I step closer, close enough to smell the light floral scent of her shampoo mixed with something uniquely her that makes my head swim.

Ruby’s fingers find the hem of my shirt, tugging lightly. “You’re overdressed.”

Her touch against the strip of skin above my jeans sends a jolt through me that nearly buckles my knees. I grab the back of my shirt and pull it off in one fluid motion, watching her eyes widen as she takes in my bare chest. The way she looks at me—like she’s starving and I’m a feast—makes my blood run hot.

“I want to see all of you,” I tell her, my voice dropping to a graveled whisper that I barely recognize.

I hook my fingers into the waistband of her tiny shorts, seeking permission in her eyes. She answers by pressing closer to me, her hands splaying across my chest. Slowly, I slide the shorts down her legs, revealing more of her tattooed skin inch by inch. She steps out of them, standing before me in just her tank top and panties.

The ink on her body is vibrant and beautiful, curving around her thighs and calves in patterns that make my fingers itch to trace them. I help her pull the tank top over her head, and she stands nearly naked, the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Her breasts are small and perfect, her nipples hardening under my heated gaze.

Mine. The thought slams into me with startling clarity. She doesn’t know it yet, but she’s already mine.

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