Page 52 of Mountain Summons

Tristan blinked at her. “What?”

“This room …” She gestured vaguely at the opulence, wondering if she was the only one who could see it.

He looked at her strangely for a moment, then his eyes cleared.

"Lena," he said, stepping closer, his voice dipping into something lower, steadier. "It’s just a hotel room. My parents … they can be a bit over the top. I imagine they booked most of the suites on this floor. For them, for their assistants, for special clients … And one for us. It’s just a room.”

Lena swallowed. She didn’t want to make Tristan uncomfortable. But this was as far fromjust a hotel roomas she was from a professional marathon runner.

Lena wanted Tristan’s parents to like her. The previous weekend, she’d gone out with a friend and bought a dress—the small black number she was wearing now. She’d thought she looked great in it but, now that she’d seen what the other women had been wearing—she wasn’t as sure anymore. She wasn’t sure of anything. Tristan’s parents had looked so at home, at the epicenter of all that luxury.

“You look beautiful.”

“You’re just saying that because you don’t want me to go back downstairs feeling like the ugly duckling.”

“You should be feeling like a swan. You were by far the most beautiful woman in the room.”

Something tightened in her chest. As ridiculous as his words were, he sounded like he believed them.

Lena had always been good at borrowing worries.Stop worrying about things you can’t control.Maybe what she needed was a way to relieve stress.

“How long do we have?” she asked, looking up into Tristan’s very blue eyes.

“I imagine the speeches will be done in twenty minutes or so.” He gave her a crooked smile. “Is that enough time for what you have in mind?”

“How do you know I have something in mind?” Her hand grazed his white shirt, feeling the strong muscle underneath.

“Take off that dress before I rip it off you,” he replied. “Unless you have something else to wear for dinner.”

Lena inhaled sharply. She and Tristan had had sex many times in the last weeks. But it’d always been sweet and gentle. Neither of them had ever lost sight of the fact that he was recovering. The way he was crowding her now, forcing her tolook up at him, the glint in his blue eyes as he looked at her, made her think he had something different in mind tonight.

“You know,” he said, crowding her, forcing her to look up. “I love having sex with you on top of me. I want to do that again soon. But right now … I want you against this wall.” He hooked an arm under her knee and lifted her easily, pressing her back against the wall. “Is this okay?”

Hell, no. She needed a lot more than this. Her hips shifted, seeking more friction.

“Take off my tights,” she whispered. “Carefully. They’re my only pair.”

Tristan laughed, putting her down. “You have two seconds, sweetheart.”

She pulled off her tights and her thong in one quick move, not wanting to risk losing either of those. Then she pulled her dress back down. There was something unexpected and somehow … dirty … about knowing she was still dressed, but naked underneath.

“Come here, sweetheart,” Tristan said, once again lifting her. Her shoulder blades pressed against the wall. In his arms, she felt small and protected, and at the same time so very exposed.

“Are you sure this is okay?” she gasped. “You’re still recovering.”

“This is more thanokay,” he said. His hips shifted, and she realized he’d taken the time to open his trousers and sheath himself. God. He was going to take her against the wall, both of them still dressed. “You ready for me, sweetheart?” He asked, rubbing the head of his cock against her clit.

Lena nodded. She didn’t want more foreplay. She wanted him inside her. As deep as he would go. “I want you now,” she said, shifting her hips forward.

He wasted no time penetrating her fully. When she gasped, he kissed the sound into his lungs. “So tight. Just for me.”

Tristan held on to her butt tight as he pounded into her. And that’s when Lena learned what it felt like to be fucked. Properly fucked. He was so deep inside her, and every time he bottomed in, he put the most delicious pressure on her clit. She was weightless—she was air—her whole world a build-up to the biggest orgasm ever.

“I’m coming,” she whispered, the words barely out of her mouth before she heard his answering groan, his hips flexing against her as he emptied himself inside her.

He pressed her forehead tenderly against his. She could still feel him, pulsing inside her, drawing out her pleasure until she was a boneless heap in his arms. Eventually, he lifted her gently, disengaging, but still kept her in his arms.

“I’m never moving again,” she said, nuzzling him.

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