Page 58 of Mountain Defender

Gage presses a soft kiss to a raised scar on my collarbone, leaving tingles of pleasure sizzling across my skin.

His hand is still at my breast, his thumb caressing and stroking and flicking at my nipple.

Heat builds at my core, blossoming into an aching need.

I’m laid onto my back, and Gage leans over me, bracing himself with one very muscly arm. His biceps flex, drawing my attention and earning a low chuckle.

“You like my arms?” he asks, in a low, rough voice.

“Yes.” It comes out in a husky breath. “They’re really sexy.” I touch the golden dusting of hair on his arm. “I really like watching you lift stuff.”

The corner of his mouth quirks. “You mean like all the times I carried around those big bags of dog food?”

My cheeks go hot. “Maybe.”

“Rory.” He grins. “If I’d only known you were asking me to carry all those heavy bags so you could stare at me…”

“That’s not why,” I retort. But the rest of my argument is forgotten when Gage lowers his mouth to my breast, taking my sensitive and swollen nipple into it.

He laves and laps at my nipple, suckling at it, and I arch towards him instinctively. My head falls back, my eyes fluttering closed as a wave of delicious sensation sweeps through my body.

One hand moves to my stomach, big and warm with a hint of rough. His fingers trace searing lines across my bare skin, kindling the fire building inside me.

My womb clenches.

My core pulses, aches, demands to be filled.

Releasing my nipple with a little pop, Gage moves to the other. His wicked fingers tease at the fabric of my panties, a plain cotton I chose without thinking that our night might end up here.

“They aren’t very sexy,” I say; a beat later wishing I could smack myself. Why would I point that out now? Do Iwantto ruin the mood?

“I don’t know about that,” he replies. His voice hums across my breast. “I think they’re very sexy. Although—” His thumb hooks into the band at my hip. “I think I might like them even better off.”

My breath catches. “Would you?”

Gage raises his head to look at me. “I would. If you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind.” Then I reach down to tug on his navy blue briefs. “As long as you lose these, too.”

His pupils flare, his eyes darkening until they’re a molten black. Skin draws tight across his cheeks and his jaw goes hard. “I can do that.”

But a moment later, as he begins to pull them off, he freezes. Tension pulls at his shoulders. Lines etch into his forehead.

At first, I don’t understand his hesitation.

Then I realize.

Protectiveness rears up, swift and intense.

I don’t want Gage to worry. To think he’s less. To think I’m looking at him in any way other than awe and gratitude, still not quite believing that this man—this amazing man—is choosing to be with me.

“Actually,” I say, my voice taking on that sultry tone again, “Could I take them off?”

And before he can answer, I sit up and reach for him, my fingers grazing his hips. My gaze searches his. “Is that okay?”

A muscle ticks in his jaw. Then he nods.

My heart fluttering with anticipation, I draw the elastic band down. Gage’s hard length springs free, slick and flushed and straining towards me. It’s even thicker and longer than I thought it might be, but then again, I’m not exactly the best judge given that this is only the third time in my life I’m seeing one in person.

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