Page 11 of Marrying the Mountain Man

“I’ll do a little of that too, but I meant the real oven. Granger and Skylar gave us that lasagna, remember?”

Oh yeah. Their wedding gift had been a large pan of lasagna and some blackberry cobbler. Their wedding night meal. They wouldn’t have time to cook, Granger had teased.

“I’ll be right back.” Cherry rushed around me, her skirt bouncing around her legs as she walked.

I turned and followed her into the kitchen because there was something else I’d been wanting to do. “We can multitask.”

She was in front of the fridge, leaning forward to grab the casserole. When she stood and turned, her eyes widened. No doubt she was surprised to find me standing so close.

“What temperature?” I asked.

She looked down at the large aluminum foil-covered pan she was holding. “Three-fifty for about thirty minutes.”

“There’s a lot we can do in thirty minutes,” I pointed out.

Smiling at her, I took the container from her and settled it on top of the stove. Then I set the oven to preheat.

While we waited, I turned, planning to undress her, but she’d already unfastened the back of her dress and was shrugging out of it. The top shimmied down, revealing two perfectly plump breasts. Before I could say a word, she had the dress fully off, revealing that she wore nothing beneath it but a pair of white skimpy panties.

As the dress dropped to the kitchen floor, I resisted the urge to lean down and pick it up. She took care of that, kicking it aside and stepping toward me to remove my suit jacket.

“I’ve been dying to do this all day,” she said. “I can’t believe you’re mine.”

“I was about to say the same thing.” My voice was getting huskier as her fingers fumbled with my belt.

“You can’t believe you’re mine?” she teased.

I nodded. “I can’t believe you’d have an old grouch like me.”

“I don’t buy any of that anymore.” She shook her head. “You just value your privacy. A lot of the guys around here do.”

She lowered my zipper, then my pants dropped to the ground just as her dress had done. Following her lead, I pulled my right foot out of my pants leg and kicked them aside. Then I stepped out of my shoes and shoved them out of the way as well.

“Now that you’re hanging out with the guys sometimes, I think everyone sees you differently,” she said.

“I’d still rather be here alone with you.”

She started unbuttoning my shirt. “I feel the same.”

Her voice was hoarse, probably because I was running my hands over her breasts. It was clear she was having a tough time concentrating.

“I’d rather be doing this than just about anything,” she said. “But we can’t do this twenty-four hours a day.”

“You’re right.” I moved my fingers around the almost nonexistent elastic band of her panties as she pressed kisses along my chest.

When she took my nipple between her teeth, I almost lost control. That was when I lifted her onto the counter and pulled her panties the rest of the way down.

“Time for some preheating,” I said.

She started to respond, but whatever she was about to say died on her tongue as I touched my tongue to her swollen clit. Within seconds, she threw her head back, letting out a long, soft sigh. Yes, she’d been thinking about this all day, just like I had.

It would never fade, this constant heat for each other. I knew that as sure as I knew the sun would rise in the morning.

By the time she cried out, her pussy contracting as her orgasm left her thighs trembling on top of my shoulders, the timer was going off. The oven was preheated.

Smiling, I pulled away and looked down at her. “Go wait for me,” I said.

She did exactly that as I slid the lasagna into the oven, set the timer, and headed straight for the bedroom, tugging my underwear off as I approached. I slid into her almost as soon as I was on the bed, feeling her wrap around me as I plunged deeper and deeper. She came first, even though it was the second time in only a few minutes. But I wasn’t far behind.

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