Page 26 of Holly's Grizzly

He’s huge here, too.

I mean, I shouldn’t be surprised. I got a little peek at him that first day in the forest, and the man is built like some kind of Nordic god.

I’ve never been with a guy this… large. Most of the men I’ve been with have been pretty much average—a bit slimmer here, a bit more muscled there—none of them built like this. Burly, solid, like I could throw myself against him or climb him like a tree and he wouldn’t budge an inch.

It thrills me. It makes me want to test that theory, to see how hard I could push, how much I could demand from him, everything he could give me before we both shatter.

His hands move over my ass, my waist, my thighs, learning all the curves of me and keeping me pinned flush against his hips. I rock on him once, twice, desperately seeking friction right where I need it most, and that rumble kicks up in his chest again.

“Holly,” he rasps, my name threaded through with urgent desire. “I want to kiss you.”

Instead of answering, I take him up on the offer, brushing my lips against his. Soft, at first, but quickly becoming something else. Polite to carnal, tentative to ravenous, he slants his lips over mine and brushes his tongue against me. I open for him and he immediately deepens the kiss. One of his hands tangles in the back of my hair, tilting my head to give him better access.

I can’t stop the soft groan that breaks from the back of my throat, can’t stop myself from grasping at his hair, getting two big handfuls of it and dragging myself even closer.

He growls his approval into the kiss and tugs at the hem of my shirt, rucking it up my thighs so he can get a better hold on me over the cotton briefs I’m wearing.

Irving’s hands cover my ass completely—grasping and squeezing, holding me in place when I try to squirm against him again.

“Be still,” he murmurs into my lips. “Unless you want this to be over before it’s even started.”

It takes me a moment to grasp what he means, and when I do, my cheeks go pink. I pull back enough to get a better look at his face, and a shot of triumphant satisfaction snaps through me at how entirely undone he looks.

He’s just as ravenous for me as I am for him, and relief floods in right alongside that triumph. I wasn’t imagining it all. Irving wants this, too. Maybe he’s been wanting it just as much as I have, thinking about it, fantasizing about what it would be like to—

“You like that?” Irving asks, a new, delicious edge to his voice as he slides a hand up to cradle the back of my head. “You like knowing just how worked up you make me, Holly?”

“Yes,” I whisper, and he growls again, tightening his grip on my hair.

“Then I’ll have to return the favor.”

He kisses me again, slow and deliberate, deep and commanding as he goes to work taking me apart.

While he feasts on me, his hands move to the buttons running down the front of my borrowed shirt. He undoes them one by one, tearing his mouth from mine so he can kiss each bit of skin exposed inch by delicious inch until the shirt hangs completely open, baring me to him.

“I love these,” he growls into the hollow between my breasts, cupping and squeezing them. “I fucking love them.”

“Not much there to love,” I say with a breathless laugh. I know I don’t have a whole lot going on in that department, but I appreciate his enthusiasm nonetheless.

Irving stills and looks up at me from where his mouth hovers just an inch away from my skin.

“Holly.”

He sounds serious. So serious. Firelight gleams in his warm brown eyes and something in me melts at the adoration I find there.

“You’re allowed to feel however you want about your body.” He licks a lazy stroke over one nipple. “But if you think for one damn second—” His teeth, this time, rasping against my taut flesh. “—that I’m ever going to agree with—” Lips pulling and sucking, releasing with a sharp pop. “—something negative you might say about it—” Finally, a kiss, right to the center of my chest where my heart beats wildly for him. “—then you’re sorely mistaken, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart.

I’m not sure where the hell that came from, but I’m not complaining.

Truthfully, he could say anything to me in that deep, rumbling baritone of his and I’d probably find it sexy as hell, butsweetheart?

Yeah, that’ll do it.

He catches one nipple between his lips and sucks hard, drawing the sensitive peak into his mouth while he cups the other and massages slow circles around it.

Irving teases me that way for a long, long time. Like it’s imperative that no single inch of me goes without being explored and worshiped, he takes his time and savors.

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