Page 17 of Snowed in with the Mountain Man

"The cold air, the steam, you on your knees in the snow..." I shake my head. "It was fucking incredible."

A pleased flush spreads across her cheeks. "I'm glad. I wanted to make you feel good. After everything you've done for me."

"You don't owe me anything," I say firmly.

"I know. That's not why I did it." She kisses me again, softer this time. "I wanted to."

Something about her phrasing triggers a thought. "Has no one ever wanted to make you feel good?"

Her slight hesitation tells me everything. "Kyle wasn't big on... reciprocating. Said it wasn't his thing."

Anger flares, hot and sudden. What kind of selfish prick accepts pleasure without giving it in return? The thought of her giving without receiving ignites something primal in me.

"His loss," I growl, lifting her suddenly and laying her down on the hearth rug. "My gain."

She looks up at me, eyes wide and dark in the firelight. "What are you doing?"

"Something I've been wanting to do since this morning." I settle between her legs, running my hands up her thighs. "Going to show you what it's like when someone wants to make you feel good."

I unbutton her jeans slowly, giving her time to stop me if she wants. Instead, she lifts her hips, helping me slide them down her legs. Her panties follow, leaving her lower half bare in the warm glow of the fire.

"You're beautiful," I tell her, meaning it. The sight of her spread out before me, my flannel shirt barely covering the tops of her thighs, is the most erotic thing I've ever seen.

I take my time, pressing kisses to her inner thighs, feeling them tremble under my lips. She watches me, her breath coming faster as I move higher, closer to where she wants me.

When I part her folds and I finally taste her, she gasps, head falling back, hands clutching at the rug beneath her. I work her slowly, deliberately, learning what makes her moan, what makes her hips rise to meet my mouth.

"Aiden," she breathes, one hand moving to tangle in my hair. "God, that feels amazing."

I hum against her, the vibration making her buck.

Her thighs quiver as I slip a finger inside her, then another, curling them to find the spot that makes her cry out. I work her with my mouth and hand in tandem, relentless in my pursuit of her pleasure.

"Look at me," I command softly.

Her eyes flutter open, finding mine over the expanse of her body. The connection is electric—her watching me worship her, me seeing the pleasure build in her expression.

"You're so responsive," I murmur against her sensitive flesh. "So perfect."

Her breathing quickens, her internal muscles clenching around my fingers. She's close. I increase the pressure, the speed, driving her toward release. I breathe her in. So musky and hot, dripping down my beard.

"Let go," I urge. "Come for me, Phoebe."

She shatters with my name on her lips, her body arching beautifully as pleasure courses through her. I don't stop, working her through the peak and into aftershocks that have her gasping, until she finally pushes at my shoulders, too sensitive to take more.

I move back up her body, gathering her trembling form against me. Her face is flushed, her eyes half-lidded with satisfaction.

She reaches for my belt, but I catch her hand. "Tonight was about you."

"But you're—"

"I'll survive." I smile, pulling her closer. "Wanted to make it about you. Just you."

She studies my face in the firelight, something soft and wondering in her expression. "Why?"

Because I think I'm falling in love with you.The thought comes unbidden, shocking in its clarity.

"Because you deserve it," I say instead, the safer truth. "Because I wanted to show you how it should be."

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