Page 12 of Arctic Mountain Man
“I want this,” I continued, my voice growing stronger. “I want you. I know it’s crazy and fast and probably a terrible idea, but I don’t care. For once in my life, I want to do something just because it feels right.”
“And this feels right?”
“Yes.” The thickness of him pressed against my body made me ache, made me wonder how it would feel to take him inside me. “Doesn’t it feel right to you?”
His response was to kiss me again, harder this time, more desperate. It was teeth and tongue and hunger, the kind of kiss that made my knees weak. His hands roamed over my back, my sides, hot and hungry.
I could feel his restraint slipping with every passing second, could feel the careful control he’d been maintaining begin to crumble. When his mouth moved to my neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to the sensitive skin there, I couldn’t hold back the moan that escaped me.
The sound seemed to break something in him. His grip on me tightened, and he backed me against a smooth boulder beside the pool. The stone was cool against my back, but Blake’s body was furnace-hot against my front.
“Tell me to stop.” His mouth worked at my neck.
“No.”
“Sadie—”
“No,” I repeated, threading my fingers through his dark hair. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
He pulled back to look at me, and the raw need in his expression made my knees weak. “If we do this—”
“When we do this,” I corrected.
“When,” he agreed, his voice dark with promise. “There’s no going back. You understand that?”
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
“Give me the words.”
“I understand.”
“And you want this anyway?”
“I want this anyway.”
He stared at me for a long moment, and I could see the last of his resistance crumbling. Then he was kissing me again, and this time there was nothing held back, nothing restrained. His hands were everywhere—sliding down my back, gripping my hips, pulling me harder against him until I could feel every inch of his arousal pressed against my belly.
When his thigh pressed between my legs, I couldn’t hold back the moan that escaped me. The pressure was perfect, exactly what I needed, and I found myself rocking against him shamelessly.
“Fuck, Sadie,” he groaned against my mouth. “You feel so good.”
One big hand slid under my shirt, rough palm against bare skin, until he cupped my breast. His thumb rolled over my nipple, sending a sharp bolt of pleasure straight to my core. I arched into his touch, desperate for more.
The sound that escaped me was needy, filthy, and I didn’t care. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t holding back.
His hands moved to cup my breasts through my shirt, thumbs brushing over my nipples until they peaked and ached.The sensation shot straight to my core, making me press harder against his thigh.
“Blake,” I gasped, my hands fisting in his hair. “Please.”
“Please what?” His voice was rough, demanding. “Tell me what you want.”
“You,” I gasped. “All of you. I want your hands on me, your mouth on me. I want—”
He silenced me with another bruising kiss, his hands sliding under my shirt, pushing my bra up and out of the way. The feeling of his calloused palms against my sensitive flesh made me cry out. He kneaded my breasts, pinching the nipples hard before sliding one hand down my stomach until he was cupping me beneath my jeans. I knew he could feel the dampness of my panties. Discovered how much I wanted him.
“Not here. Not like this. You deserve better.” He quickly straightened my clothing and pressed a soft kiss to my lips. “Come on. Let’s go home.”
Home.That sounded right, even though it shouldn’t.
