Page 9 of Romancing the Mountain Man
“Go on,” I murmur, my voice lower than I intended.
She continues.
“I moaned as his hands continued to meet every inch of my body. I arched into his touch, begging him not to stop. His soft touches weren't so soft anymore, giving me what I craved. He took control, our bodies meeting roughly but in perfect rhythm. He was more man than I had ever met, and I knew I’d never find another like him.”
When she stops this time, the silence between us stretches.
My heart’s hammering like I just sprinted through the woods, and my dick is aching behind the zipper of my jeans.
“Damn,” I clear my throat. “I never saw that on PornHub.”
She giggles then says, “I’m sorry. That was too much. I shouldn’t have?—”
“No,” I cut her off and sit up, meeting her eyes. I do my best not to drop my eyes to her tits, but a glance still sneaks out. “It wasn’t too much. I guess I just didn’t know what to expect to hear.”
Quinn rests her phone on her lap and takes a breath, the movement showcasing those breasts I can’t stop looking at. Her lips roll in at my stare, and I know she’s feeling what I am. “I tend to write the scene I’m confronted with, ya know? That’s why I don’t read it out loud. People either get uncomfortable or they want to make it a joke.”
“I’m not laughing,” I say, and I’m not.
I move slowly until I’m in front of her. I know I’m big, so I give her space, but she could reach out if she wanted to. I look at her and say, “I guess I didn't expect smut to have so many feelings.”
Her mouth parts as she bites her lip, but she doesn’t answer. The blanket on her lap is bunched, and I reach out and brush her calf with the back of my hand. She shivers but doesn’t pull away.
“I haven’t felt much in a long time,” I admit, my voice lower still. “But I feelthis.With you.” Her breath catches, but I just keep talking. “You said you write about looking for a forever love,” I say, letting my hand linger. “Maybe finding all the wrong ones was just fillers until you had the right moment to believe in it again.”
Chapter 8
Luke
Her fingers curl around mine, and when her thumb brushes across my knuckles, I’m not prepared for the electrical current that zips through me.
It’s a thumb, Luke. How pathetic are you?
I rise to my knees until I’m leaning against the couch, using it to dull the ache in my jeans. My hands are braced on either side of her hips. She watches me and stays quiet. Nerves have stolen her words for a change.
I pull the blanket from her lap and see bare legs in shorts. I close my eyes for a brief moment and trail my hand over her thigh before lifting it to her arm and running it up to her shoulder. My thumb brushes her cheek, and she leans into my touch, like she already knows how it feels, just like how she was writing about.
Her lips part, and I take it as an invitation. It’s soft and slow and I wait to see if she’ll kiss me back. She does just as gently, her hand reaching for the bottom of my T-shirt, gripping it like she needs to ground herself. I deepen the kiss and let my hand play with her hair that falls loosely around her shoulders.
She tastes sweet. Like cupcakes, and it’s exactly what I would have imagined.
What Ididimagine.
My hand drifts down again, gripping her waist. She sighs into my mouth, then leans forward, draping both arms over my shoulders. I uncross her legs, putting them on either side of my hips, still letting the couch give us a little buffer, even though all I want to feel isher.
“I’ve wanted to do that since you walked through the door,” she murmurs when we finally break apart.
I brush my nose against hers. “Then let’s keep doing it.”
Her smile is soft, almost shy, but then she pulls me onto the couch and climbs into my lap like she belongs there. My hands find her hips as she straddles me, her thighs warm through the thin fabric of her sleep shorts.
I groan low in my throat as she kisses me again, deeper now, her hips pressing against mine in a subtle, maddening rhythm.
Her hands explore, slipping under the hem of my T-shirt, tickling my stomach. She touches me like she’s trying to memorize every bit of me.
“You’re warm,” she whispers.
I chuckle against her neck. “That’s the fire.”
