Page 13 of Mistletoe Cowboy
“Death,” I add, brows furrowing. Her eyes pool, face still flushed with pleasure. “I can’t live without you, Sage McCauley. It’s no good. Try as I might, you stole my heart long ago, and you’re not giving it back, no matter what you say to the contrary.”
“And so?”
“And so let me love you, the way nature intended. Flesh of my flesh, bone of my bone?—”
“Blood of my blood,” she says, mouth covering mine as she relaxes into me.
Chapter
Five
SAGE
The storm still rages, but inside the shack the world has gone quiet.
Snow slashes the window like it’s trying to erase the night, yet all I hear ishisbreathing—steady, trembling,mine.The scent of cedar and woodsmoke clings to our skin, threaded with something sweeter, something that feels like home.
My fingers rest against his chest, tracing the wild rhythm of his heart beneath my palm. “We shouldn’t,” I whisper, but there’s no conviction left in the words.
“I know.” His voice is rougher than the wind outside. “But I don’t want to stop.”
I close my eyes, press my forehead to his, and the rest of the world falls away. The storm can tear down fences, strip trees bare. But it can’t touch this … the wanting that’s lived in both of us too long to die now.
When our lips meet again, it isn’t reckless. It’s slow, certain, a promise sealed in the heartbeat between thunder and silence. His sigh shudders against my mouth. Mine stumbles to match it. Outside, the wind howls once more, and then even that fades until there’s only us, the rhythm of skin and breath and the faint creak of the old shack holding steady against the storm.
My hands slide over his angular planes, memorizing every slope and dip. A hard man in place of the boy I first loved. The throb at the top of my legs returns, greedy though he’s already given me more pleasure than I can comprehend. It’s not enough with him, though.
I find the fly of his Wranglers, unbutton and unzip as his tongue ravishes my mouth, stealing my breath and my heart all over again. My pulse flutters behind my ribcage, fiery trails burning up and down my skin at every point his fingertips caress until I can’t think, I can’t breathe, I can’t speak. I distill to hunger—ravenous.
My hand slides beneath the waistband of his tented black boxer briefs, breath coming out like a hiss as I feel his warm, thick rod for the first time. He closes his eyes, groans deep in his throat, almost like a purr.
The sound undoes me, makes me want to give him more. I wrap my fingers around him, stroking back and forth.
“Yes, Sage,” he murmurs, chest rumbling with pleasure.
“You like that?”
“Fuck, yes,” he pants.
“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” I say, the moment surreal. My hand stops.
His brown eyes find mine, warmth and heat swirling in the pupils. “We can stop whenever you like, Sage. It’s up to you. But let it be what you want, not what you think the world wants.”
His words lift a weight I didn’t even know I was carrying. My hand moves again, savoring the way he comes alive at my touch. “I don’t care what the world wants anymore.”
If love can survive a storm like this, maybe it can survive everything that comes next.
He reaches up, drags my head down for another impassioned kiss as we melt into each other.
My pulse pounds in my temples, mind racing at what this will feel like. If it’ll hurt. If I’m pleasing him. How he can possibly find me attractive, all hard and athletic, while I’m soft and curvy. But he obviously does. Hesavedhimself for me.
“Quit thinking,” he murmurs against my lips. “Let it all go, Sage. Just be here with me …in this moment.”
“Yes, Silas.” I close my eyes, savoring every touch, the warmth of his skin, the cedar lingering, the salt when I swipe my tongue over his hot flesh, and how his body shakes, hands tightening their grip on me.
He helps me remove his jeans, then his boxers, cock free. I can’t help it. I sneak a look down, eyes rounding.
“You’re huge.”
