Page 16 of The Mountain Man's Accidental Bride
“You know what you’re asking for, don’t you?” He lets his eyes trail down the row of buttons before they flick back, and a low-throated curse leaves his lips.
Stirring beneath his gaze, I somehow manage a shaky smile.
“I mean…if it doesn’t bother you that I don’t have a clue what I’m doing.” My laugh comes out too high, too nervous. “Plus, there’s the whole you’re-actually-perfect thing, and I’m…”
I gesture vaguely at myself—at the softness of my hips, the way my thighs press together, the swell of my stomach that no amount of hiking these mountains will ever whittle away. Not like him. Not lean and hard and carved from stone. The words clot in my throat.
“The hell’s that supposed to mean?” His brows slam together instantly. The growl in his voice sends a shiver straight down my spine.
“Come on. Look at you.” My fingers twitch toward his chest—all corded muscle and sun-warmed skin—but I curl them into my palm instead. “And then there’s me.”
He takes me in like he’s trying to see me in the same way as I do. Instead of insecurities bouncing behind his gaze, it’s nothing but heat. He reaches for my shoulder and lightly pushes me to my back. Running his tongue along his bottom lip, he nods.
“Yeah,” he rasps, his fingers dragging from my shoulder toward the row of buttons. “There’s you.”
My breath stutters as he flicks the top button undone, revealing pale skin. The next one, he traces with his finger like he’s asking for permission. All I can do is nod my head.
His fingers don’t stop at the second button. They trail lower, slow and deliberate, until the fabric falls open and his knuckles brush the swell of my breast. A rough sound escapes him whenhe realizes—no bra. Just the bare curve of me, my nipples pebbled tight under his heavy stare.
Is he always this intense?
“Jesus.” His thumb swipes over one peak, and my stomach flutters under his gaze. A hot palm skates down my ribs, over the soft dip of my waist, coming to rest like a brand just above my hipbone as he opens up both flaps, revealing every inch. “This body’s been haunting me ever since you borrowed my shirt.”
I arch into his touch, my pulse hammering where his fingers dig in. “I didn’t think you’d—”
“Care?” He leans down, his breath tickling my skin as his mouth hovers dangerously close to my breasts. His palm spreads over my stomach, fingers splayed like he’s trying to claim every inch. “If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have lasted five minutes with you. Wouldn’t have had the strength to put distance between us all night. Fuck, even when I stroked my cock to you right before this, I imagined it. Now, I’m wondering if it was a precognition of this moment happening.”
My attempt at a laugh dissolves into a ragged groan as his lips skim the sensitive skin just below my navel.
“Hey,” I pant, fingers tangling in his hair—too soft for a man this rough. “Weren’t you supposed to kiss me first before going this far?”
Augustchuckles, the sound vibrating against my stomach. When I glance down, his usual scowl has softened into something dangerously close to amusement. It’s disorienting—like staring at a stranger, one who knows exactly how to unravel me with just his teeth and those calloused hands.
Then his palm slides toward my thigh, parting me with deliberate slowness, releasing the heat forming between the both of them. “I’ll kiss you wherever you want. Just tell me where to start…and where to finish.”
An answer that, for a moment, seems obvious now makes me hesitant. I can pickanywhere? Should I save the best for last? From the throbbing that’s pulsating between my thighs, I know I need to pick something and soon.
6
August
Every gasp that leaves her lips, every shudder that wracks through her body—I live for it. My hands grip her hips hard enough to leave a mark, and the way she arches into me like she’s starving for it…
Fool. That’s what I am for thinking I could keep my hands to myself. One taste of her, and I’m gone. There’s no way in hell I’m going to be able to stop until my tastebuds have memorized her flavor, until I’ve mapped out every inch of her frame.
The very body she’s so shy of is the same one that I plan to worship.
My tongue drags slowly over her bottom lip before I bite down—just enough to make her whimper.
“Sweetest damn thing I’ve ever tasted,” I growl against her mouth. And it’s the truth. She’s honey and heat, and I’m the bastard who can’t get enough. At this rate, I’m going to devourher whole before I can even address the slickness soaking her panties.
Fuck, it’s taking all the strength I have not to free my cock and shove the thin strip of fabric to the side, plunging into her wet heat with one fluid thrust. It’s been teasing me ever since I saw the slip of pink.
Can’t be rough. Not this time.
I want her first time to be wonderful, something she’ll recall fondly as a cherished memory and something that’ll get her as worked up as she is now.
Even if my cock aches from how hard it is becoming, I’ll suffer for her pleasure.
