Page 138 of Hidden Nature

He laid her back again, kissed her again. This time not so gently.

He took her back where she wanted to be, where there was no thought, only feeling, where she could let go of everything but that single, focused, desperate need.

Those rough, seeking hands didn’t make her feel fragile, but demanded she give and she take in equal measure.

As her heart pumped wild under his hands, she yanked at his belt. She wanted all of him, everything, and now. Could barely breathe for the urgent beat of her own blood as he dragged her pants down her legs. As his hands followed them down her thighs.

“I want—I want—”

He said, “Shh.” Covered her mouth with his, slid his hand up between her legs.

She erupted, cried out in release as the first glorious orgasm tore through her, ripping off scars she hadn’t realized closed off emotions, need, longings.

Pulsing pleasure spread through her, bringing back to life what she’d feared had died while the rest of her survived.

She quaked under him, hips arching, nails digging in. Her eyes met his again, the green of them madly beautiful. Then she wrapped her legs around him once more.

“Now. Right now.”

He drove into her, wasn’t sure he could have stopped himself if someone had held a knife to his throat. The hunger for her, for this, clawed inside him, an animal he couldn’t cage.

Fast, rough, he took and he took while the air burned in his lungs, while she met his every desperate thrust.

She came again. He watched those eyes go opaque, felt her body shudder, then go lax. But still he didn’t, couldn’t, stop.

With a half sob she began to move again, to meet him again.

She fisted a hand in his hair, dragged him down into a kiss that burned into the savage.

“God! God, yes. Again.”

This time when she peaked and she fell, he had no choice but to follow her.

She lay splayed out on the bed. Used up. Melted. Burned out.

Even the barest whisper of tension in her body had been snuffed out. Any hint of stress in her mind, blown away into utter contentment.

Keeping her eyes closed, she basked in it.

“I know that was stupid, and I don’t care. Jesus, Littlefield, you’re really good at it.”

He lay sprawled, staring blindly up at the popcorn ceiling, the dinky light. “I can honestly say: Back at you, Cooper. That’s a hell of a body you got on you. What do you curl?”

“I’m up to fifteen. I had to start back at two. The dog’s whining.”

“Yeah, I hear him. Needs to go out. I’ll be back.”

He sat up, yanked on his pants. “You want anything?”

“Maybe water. A half gallon should do it.”

“I’ll take the other half.”

When he went out, she let herself float. Not toward sleep, she thought, but into bliss. Then remembered her utility belt, and rose to pick it up, set it on the dresser.

He walked back in, the dog loping with him, as she stood naked by the bed.

“There’s a picture.” He handed her one of the two glasses of water.

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