Page 6 of The Mountain Man's Curvy Christmas Treat
"Ivy," he breathes against my lips. "We should stop."
"Why?" I pull back just enough to look at him, seeing the tug-of-war in his eyes.
"Because if we don't stop now, I won't be able to."
My heart pounds as I look up at this incredible man who's trying so hard to protect me from himself.
"What if I don't want you to stop?"
4
Colt
Ivy’s words undo me completely.
I pull her against me, hands spanning her waist. She's petite compared to me, looking up with trust and desire in those cocoa-dark eyes.
"You sure?" I ask, because once I start, I won't be able to hold back.
"I know what I want," she breathes, her hands sliding up my chest. "I want you to be my first. My only."
Her first. I’ll be the first man to ever be inside of her. Maybe, the only man. The possessiveness in her voice nearly breaks my control. I kiss her deeper, hands roaming her body. When I push up the flannel, she lifts her arms eagerly.
She's perfect. Her full breasts in red lace, yesterday's Christmas Eve bra. I trace the edge with one finger, watching her shiver.
"So beautiful," I murmur, then lower my head to press open-mouthed kisses along her collarbone.
"Colt," she gasps when I take one lace-covered nipple into my mouth, sucking gently. Her hands tangle in my hair, holding me to her.
I worship her through the lace until she's trembling, then carefully unhook her bra. When it falls away, I have to pause just to look at her.
"Perfect," I breathe, then take one rosy peak into my mouth while my hand cups the other breast.
She arches beneath me, soft sounds escaping her lips that make me harder than steel. I lavish attention on her breasts until she's writhing, her hips moving restlessly against me.
"Please," she whispers. "I need more."
"What do you need, sweetheart?" I ask, my voice rough with want.
"You. Inside me. I'm aching for you."
Christ.I lift her off the counter, carrying her to the bed. She wraps her legs around my waist, and the heat of her core presses against my stomach even through our clothes.
"God, Ivy," I groan, setting her down gently.
I strip off my thermal, and her eyes widen as she takes in my chest, shoulders, the scars from years of rescue work.
"You're magnificent," she breathes, fingertips tracing a particularly harsh scar across my ribs. She leans forward and presses her lips to the scar, and something breaks loose in my chest.
I frame her face, kissing her with everything I feel. When I reach for the waistband of her thermals, she lifts her hips to help.
Slowly, reverently, I remove the last of her clothes. When she's completely bare beneath me, flushed and beautiful and trusting, I nearly lose control right there.
"You're sure?" I ask one more time.
"Make me yours," she whispers.
I kiss my way down her body, taking time to worship every inch of soft skin. When I reach the apex of her thighs, I look up at her.
