Page 57 of Buck Wild Orc Cowboy
“This is better,” he said firmly, as if he'd made an executive decision. “You like it.”
I did. Oh, how I did.
My laughter echoed off the walls, mingling with his low rumbles of amusement. In his arms, high above the floor, I felt lighter than I had in years. I was weightless, safe, and cherished.
He slowed after a few more turns, setting me carefully down, though he didn’t let go. His hands stayed on my waist, and our foreheads almost touched as he bent close again, breathing a little harder from the exertion.
“You’re a good dancer,” he said solemnly.
“And you're good at making a woman feel special.” The words slipped out before I could think better of them.
His smile widened, and he nudged his face closer.
My breath caught. I could feel the heat radiating off him, the faint scent of flour and something sweet we’d baked clinging to his skin. I tightened my hands on his broad shoulders and tipped my chin up, drawn to him like gravity itself had shifted around us.
For one long, breathless moment, we hovered there, the world narrowing to the smidge of space between us, to the thudding of my pulse in my ears.
His lips brushed mine, tentative at first, and I sensed he was afraid of hurting me. It was barely more than a ghost of atouch, one that gave me plenty of room to pull away. His kiss felt unsure and so achingly sweet that it sent a tremor through me.
I pressed closer, tilting my head and deepening the kiss, showing him I wanted this. His hand at my waist flexed, and a growl of need vibrating in his chest. That sound, honest and completely Sel, lit a fire low deep inside me.
He deepened the kiss, and it was no longer tentative. Now he kissed me like he meant it, like he’d wanted to do it for a long time and couldn’t hold back any longer. I loved how firm and hungry his mouth was against mine. He tasted of sweetness and heat, and when his tongue flicked my bottom lip, I opened for him with a moan.
His rough sound of approval echoed around us, and he tightened his hold, pulling me fully against his body. So much hard muscle and barely restrained strength, yet he held me as if I was someone to be treasured.
I slid my fingers up the sides of his neck, tangling them in his dark hair, and when I tugged him closer, he kissed me until I was dizzy.
There was no awkwardness now. No hesitation. Just the two of us, wrapped around each other in the dim, flour-dusted kitchen, as if nothing else in the world mattered.
When he finally pulled back, it was only by an inch. As he stared down at me, his breath fanned my lips, and his dark eyes searched mine with a fierceness that stole the rest of my air.
“I should have asked first,” he rasped, his voice roughened to something dangerous and beautiful.
I smiled, brushing my fingertips across his face. “I don’t mind. I wanted to kiss you too.”
His eyes widened. “You did?”
“I did.”
Overwhelmed by how amazing this felt, I clung, pressing myself against him. I couldn’t remember the last time I feltneed like this, and maybe I never had. Everything felt new and wonderful with Sel. This was what I’d been seeking all those years ago when I gave in to someone else.
Lifting me up, he settled my butt on the counter, before parting my thighs and stepping between them. He kissed me again in almost a fever, his hands roaming my shoulders and gliding down my waist. Sliding between my thighs to rub me through my clothing.
I gasped into his mouth, my hips instinctively tilting to seek more of his touch. The ache between my legs grew sharper, hotter, and when he pulled back enough to look down at me, his eyes were so dark and full of hunger that it sent another rush of heat through me.
“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he said, his fingers brushing the waistband of my pants.
“Don't stop.” My voice trembled, betraying how much I ached for more.
His hands moved with surprising deftness for someone so big. He undid the button and eased the zipper down, his knuckles brushing against the damp heat of my underwear, making me shiver.
I lifted my hips, helping him push my pants and underwear down enough to bare me to him. He urged me back onto the counter, then hitched my heels up to catch on the edge, watching my face as he parted my thighs, as he leaned down over me to feather kisses down my neck.
Cool air kissed my skin before his hand teased across my thigh, seeking the place where I needed him most.
The first touch of his fingers against me made me cry out. I clung to his broad shoulders for balance while the world tilted around me. He groaned low in his chest, like he could feel my pleasure through his own skin.
“You’re wet,” he said, almost in awe, his thumb brushing over my clit while one of his fingers teased at my entrance. Spark flew up my spine, and I jerked my hips toward his touch, craving more.
