Page 9 of The Mountain Man's Irresistible Bride
“You’re half-naked on my porch.”
“I’m your wife.”
His jaw ticks. “Don’t remind me.” He turns to leave.
“Elias.”
He pauses.
“I’m tired of pretending you don’t want me.”
He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, just watches as I rise slowly from the tub, water cascading down my skin. His gaze snaps back to me and holds. For a beat, all I hear is his breathing and the hammering of my own heart.
“You should go inside,” he says roughly.
I take a step toward him, still dripping wet. “Make me.”
That does it. He crosses the porch in two long strides, fists clenched. “You don’t get it. If I touch you…”
I stop him with a hand to his chest. His heart thunders under my palm. “Then touch me.”
His hands are on me in an instant, gripping my waist, dragging me against him. His mouth claims mine, hot and consuming. I melt, kissing him back with everything I’ve held inside. His hands roam, fingers digging into my hips as if anchoring himself to reality.
He lifts me, wet and gasping, and lays me down on the bench like I’m the most precious thing he’s ever touched. The blanket he throws beneath me is rough against my back, but all I feel is the heat in his eyes.
“Tell me to stop,” he growls again.
I shake my head. “Don’t you dare.”
His mouth trails fire down my neck, across my chest. He hesitates at the waistband of my panties.
“Juniper,” he murmurs, voice strained. “Have you ever—”
“No,” I whisper. “You’ll be my first.”
His eyes darken, and something reverent passes across his face. “Fuck, baby. You’re gonna wreck me.”
He kneels, spreading me open gently, reverently. “Let me take care of you. Let me show you what you’ve been missing.”
He moves slowly at first, his mouth worshiping every inch of skin. He kisses down my stomach, then parts my thighs with his rough hands and lowers his mouth to me.
The first stroke of his tongue shatters me.
I arch up, gasping. “Oh my God—Elias!”
“Sweet girl,” he murmurs against me, “you taste like sin. So soft and so fucking sweet.”
He eats me like a man starved, like he’s been dreaming of this for years. His tongue flicks and circles, teasing, then plunging deep. One hand holds my hip, the other slips beneath to rub tight circles over my clit. He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t slow. Every time I cry out, he groans like it’s a reward.
My body trembles. My thighs shake. I reach down and tangle my fingers in his hair.
“Elias, I—”
He lifts his head just enough to growl, “Come for me, Juniper. Let me hear you fall apart.”
I do. It crashes over me like a wave, violent and consuming. I scream his name as I shatter, hips rocking, stars behind my eyes.
When I finally stop shaking, he rises over me, mouth glistening, eyes burning.
