Page 10 of Romancing the Mountain Man
She giggles, my beard tickling her, I’m sure, and she pulls back just enough to look at me. “No. That’s you.”
I exhale and kiss her again, letting everything I’ve held backfor yearspour into it.
When I slide my hands beneath her shirt and up her spine, she arches into me with a quiet gasp, her body soft and inviting in all the ways I never let myself miss until now.
“Let me see you,” I say, my voice raw.
She nods, fingers trembling just slightly as she pulls her tank over her head, baring herself to me. I sit there for a moment, just looking, taking in every inch of her like she’s a sunrise I neverthought I’d see again. I dust the backs of my fingers over her breasts, over her nipples, and they harden before my eyes. Her chest heaves, like she’s trying to catch her breath, and I repeat the motion. Goosebumps erupt, and when I roll each nipple between my thumb and forefinger, her moan almost makes me come in my jeans. The more I touch and stare, the braver she gets, sitting tall with a curve of her lips that tells me she loves everything I’m doing.
“You’re beautiful, Red.”
She leans forward, kissing me again as my hands explore the soft skin of her back, her waist, her thighs. When I lift her slightly and lay her down on the couch, she doesn’t resist. She wraps her legs around me, welcoming me in.
Clothes are peeled away carefully, and the feel of her skin on mine is like nothing I’ve ever known. I pull her panties down her legs, her eyes never leaving mine, and when I slide my finger through her pussy lips and find her soaking wet, a groan tears from my throat. Her body moves in a wave like motion, reacting to my touch, begging for more and it makes me feel ten feet tall.
“I don't have a condom here.”
She shakes her head. “I’m on the pill.”
I breathe deep, wanting nothing more than to slide inside and fuck her to oblivion, but she senses my hesitation. “And what about your boyfriend? You said he cheated on you.”
She closes her eyes. “We hadn’t been together in quite a while. I should have known he was getting it somewhere else.”
I feel bad hearing her declaration but happy at the same time. I grab hold of my cock and position it, sinking into her in one thrust. Her moan meets my groan, and I feel like I’m coming home.
We move together like we’ve done this a hundred times before.
“Fuck, Red.” I breathe against her, pounding her deep into the couch. She wraps her arms tighter around me and takes everything I’m giving.
“Keep going. Get me there,” she breathes out, meeting my thrusts with her own.
My dick grows harder, and I plant my hands on either side of her head and hold myself above her, jacking my hips into her, feeling her pussy squeeze me tight.
“I'm close. Please tell me you're there.” I’m trying to hold out, but it’s been too long, and she feels too good. I feel her hand come between us, and then she’s playing with her clit, and it almost breaks me. “Quinn, fuck, get yourself off.”
I lock eyes with her. She’s biting her lip, but a smile still shows across her face, and her eyes twinkle. I can’t help but snicker. “You’re dangerous.”
She grabs my ass with one hand, holding me tight against her as she hits her peak. She cries out, and when we both come apart, the fire being the only light in the room, and with the storm raging outside, I’ve never felt more at peace.
Chapter 9
Quinn
Iwake to the smell of coffee and the sizzle of something cooking on the stove. For a second, I forget where I am, then I roll over and hit the floor.
“Oomph.” I hit the floor hard, and that’s when I look up to see Luke staring back at me with a shit-eating grin.
The storm is long over, but the cabin is still lovely and warm. I’m in Luke’s flannel, with just one button buttoned. And my body aches, but in a good way. I stretch, feeling sore muscles I hadn’t used in, well, forever, and I can't stop the smile spreading across my face.
Mountain man knows what he’s doing.
I stand, pulling the flannel tight around me and buttoning the last two before realizing this flannel is theonlything I have on.
Luke stands in the small kitchen with a coffee mug in one hand and a spatula in the other. His hair is tousled like my hands had been in it all night, his beard even scruffier in the morning light, and the man is wearing sweatpants.
When the hell did he put those on?
“You’re domestic now?” I tease, leaning against the doorway. “Is this what happens when you sleep with a writer? Next comes brunch and Pinterest boards?”
