Page 28 of Haunting the Mountain Man
And then she shatters. Her climax rips through her, squeezing me so tight I can’t hold back another second. I groan her name as I spill inside her, burying myself deep, locking her to me in the most primal way.
When it’s over, she slumps across the bed, hair tangled, makeup ruined, body shaking. I pull her against my chest, cuddling her close, pressing kisses along her damp temple.
“My wife,” I murmur.
Her laugh is hoarse, and utterly perfect.
“Yours.”
I kiss her again, slow, tender, and full of the love I struggle to put into words poured into the press of my mouth against hers.
No matter how many times I said I wasn’t enough, she chose me. And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving she was right.
Sabrina
The first thing I notice is warmth. Heavy, solid, wrapped around me like a human furnace. Cole’s chest at my back, his arm draped over my waist, his breath slow and even against my hair.
Smiling into the pillow I stretch out my arms, smug and satisfied. Married yesterday, wrecked last night. My lumberjack husband kept his vow until the very last second, and then he broke me apart so thoroughly I’m still floating.
Cole shifts, pulling me closer. His nose nuzzles against the curve of my neck.
“Awake, pretty girl?”
“Mmm. Barely.” My voice is a sleepy rasp. “But I’m not moving. Ever. You can carry me around like a trophy.”
He chuckles, low and rough.
“I’d do it.”
We lie there, tangled in the sheets, cats prowling somewhere in the background like tiny, judgmental chaperones. Safe. Warm. Whole.
Then his hand starts to move. Slow strokes over my stomach, down to my thigh, back up again. Teasing.
I squirm.
“Cole—”
“Daddy,” he murmurs against my skin, voice gone dark.
A shiver shoots through me.
“Daddy.”
“That’s better.” His palm slides higher, slipping between my thighs, finding me already soft and wet from the memory of last night. “Look at you. Still aching for me.”
“I’m sore,” I protest weakly, but my hips tilt into his touch.
He kisses the shell of my ear, wicked and tender all at once.
“Then I’ll be gentle. Just this once.”
I laugh, breathless, and turn in his arms so I can see him. His dark eyes are heavy-lidded, his beard rough against my cheek.
“My husband,” I whisper.
“My wife,” he answers, and then his mouth is on mine.
It starts soft, sweet, but quickly deepens, heat flaring like kindling catching flame. His fingers stroke me until I’m gasping into his kiss, nails digging into his shoulders.
