Page 22 of Beast of Misty Mountain

He takes my hand and strokes the back of my hand with his thumb. “Best battle I’ve ever picked.”

“I’m goingto prove I deserve this.” His voice drops low, and I can hear how serious he is. We’re standing in the living room, my backpack propped against the couch. “Every night.”

“Starting now?” I arch a brow, reaching out my hand to him.

He grins and takes my hands, pulling me into his arms. “Starting now.”

Milo gathers me in his arms, and we’re kissing and smiling and tugging at each other’s clothes. I push his flannel off, and it slides to the floor. He tugs my T-shirt over my head, bending his mouth to kiss my shoulders. “You sure?” he asks, breath hot on my collarbone.

“Positive.” I hook a finger in his belt loop and tug. “I need you.”

He groans, and he kisses me so deeply that if he didn’t have his arms wrapped around me, I’d fall to the floor because my knees are so weak.

I gasp as Milo lifts me, and I lock my legs around his waist. “Careful.” I laugh as my shoulder bumps the frame lightly.

“I’ve got you,” he promises, kissing my nose.

He gently lays me down on the bed, then stretches out beside me, propped on one elbow so close that I can see the flecks of gray in his blue eyes. The weight of his gaze settles on me, and I realize I’ve never been happier than I am right now.

My fingers tremble as I reach for him, tracing a long scar that curves over his ribs like a pale river cutting through the landscape of his body. He shivers under my touch, goosebumps rising in the wake of my fingertips. He closes his eyes for a long moment, but he doesn’t flinch away or shut down. Instead, he mirrors the gesture—tracing his fingertips from the hollow beneath my breast to the dip of my waist, leaving a trail of fire on my skin.

“These scars are proof you survived for me,” I breathe, lifting my head and slowly kissing the raised tissue. My lips linger, feeling the texture of his past that’s written on his skin. He exhales a shaky breath.

His eyes flare, pupils dilating until only a thin ring ofblue remains, then soften, melting into a look that feels like a protective hand gently holding my heart. The vulnerability there steals my breath. “Marilee, I love you.” His voice cracks slightly on the word “love,” and my heart overflows.

“I love you, Milo.”

He dips his head, claiming my mouth with his. The kiss begins tender—gentle explorations, small nips at my lower lip, a questioning sweep of tongue—then deepens as I open to him. Our tongues meet, dancing and stroking, tasting of beer and wild desire. He strokes the sensitive spot behind my ear, sending shivers cascading down my spine. I fist his hair, the thick strands wrapping around my fingers as I tug just enough to pull a growl from deep in his chest.

We tear at each other’s clothes, buttons flying, zippers catching. Laughter bubbles between desperate kisses as we fumble to undress. His dog tags clink softly as he puts them on the nightstand.

When we tumble back onto the bed, skin against skin at last, the cool sheets make me gasp. He hovers above me, his broad shoulders blocking the moonlight streaming through the open window.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, his gaze caressing my body.

His lips find the hollow of my throat, and I arch into him, hungry to feel him inside me. “Tell me if you need me to slow down,” he says, voice thick with desire. “We have all night. All the nights.”

I arch my back, pressing against the hard planes of his chest. “I don’t want to wait another second.”

A smile transforms his face—boyish for a moment before darkening with renewed hunger. His hand slides beneath my knee, drawing my leg up against his hip as he positions his hard cock against my slick, hot core. Our eyes lock as he pushes into me with one long, fluid movement.

My lungs empty. My core stretches to accommodate him. We freeze, foreheads touching, hearts hammering against our ribs. I run my fingers along the taut column of his neck and feel his pulse racing beneath fevered skin.

We move our bodies together—Milo plunges into me slowly, deeply, and I raise my hips to meet his thrusts, my body demanding more. My fingers clutch at the quilt. The ancient wooden bed frame creaks beneath us as we move faster and faster, our moans echoing in the bedroom.

His mouth blazes a trail along my collarbone, down to my breast. His tongue circles my nipple before he draws it between his lips and sucks hard. Electric currents shoot straight to my core. My back arches off the bed, and I cry out his name.

“Those sounds,” he murmurs against my heated skin. “I want to hear you sing like that every night.”

I slide my hands down his back, feeling scars and muscles shifting beneath my fingertips as he moves within me. When I reach the firm curve of his ass, I grip him with my hands and urge him deeper.

“Faster,” I moan. The pressure builds inside me like nothing I’ve felt before. Every stroke of his cock rubs against my G-spot and pleasure fills my body in a way I never knew was possible.

“Marilee,” he groans, the sound vibrating through both our bodies. His pace quickens, each thrust reaching deeper, strikingplaces that make my vision blur at the edges. I grip him, my body thrashing and bucking under him.

My hips match his rhythm, our bodies slick with sweat. His hand slips between us, finding my clit and teasing me. “I want to watch as you come on my cock,” he moans. “Let me see you lose control, Marilee.”

My eyes lock with his. In his gaze, I see not just desire but love. He teases my clit as he plunges faster and deeper into me, and the pressure in my core intensifies, building higher until it explodes.

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