Page 7 of Mountain Man's Mail Order Temptress
I wrapped my arms around him, my legs too, like I wanted to hold him there forever. He stayed still for a long moment, letting me adjust, kissing my temple, my cheek, my lips. And when I finally shifted my hips, silently giving him permission, he moved.
Slow. Gentle. Reverent.
He lowered his head to resume our kiss as his right hand slid down my waist and over my thigh. When he traced a line up the inside, I knew exactly what he was doing. Did he think he couldbring me to orgasm again, or was this a way to take my mind off the pain?
Either way, it wasn’t going to work. That was what I said to myself as his finger found that ultra-sensitive nub and began moving over it. But within a minute or so, it became clear that it actually did distract me from the pain. Maybe it was just enough pleasure to counteract it. Whatever the case, I decided to focus on what his touch was doing to me rather than the sharp pain that was coming from deeper inside me.
And soon I felt heat expanding—starting in that part of my body and moving outward. He was staying fairly close to my entrance, probably scared to go too deep, and I knew if I opened my eyes, I’d find him with his jaw clenched, eyes closed, struggling to hold back. Or maybe he had his eyes carefully trained on my face, looking for signs that I might be in pain.
I didn’t want to look. I just wanted to feel.
Soon, that now-familiar pressure began building inside me. Was it possible? Oh, yes. Definitely.
I bit my lip to avoid making any noise as I moved my hands to his waist, then his hips, then his ass—reminding myself just how hot this guy was. My mountain man. The one who pledged to marry me without even meeting me.
I was climbing. I was feeling that now-familiar sensation—the warmth spreading through my body, my breaths coming faster, the feeling that nothing in the world mattered but this moment. But me and my mountain man fiancé.
“Blade,” I whispered, the wordwhooshingout of me like I was born to say it.
He stiffened between my legs, and I wondered if he’d hit his climax at the same time I had. It made sense. But then all thought was wiped out as my body was flooded with sensations.
I tilted my head back and tightened my legs around him, pulling him in deeper. I barely felt the pain, the pleasure was so intense.
He began pumping faster as my orgasm reached its end. I’d be sore tomorrow, but I didn’t care. It was all well worth it, and I had a lifetime of making love to this man—the man I’d been born to love.
With a barely suppressed grunt, he stilled, and I opened my eyes to find him—eyes closed, jaw clenched, head back. But something had changed.
I couldn’t explain it at first. Couldn’t name it. But I felt it like a cold breeze between warm sheets. His whole body was still pressed against mine, but it suddenly felt like the part of him I couldn’t touch—the quiet, secret part—was already pulling away.
He opened his eyes slowly, and when they met mine, I felt it like a punch to the chest. Not anger. Not regret. Just…something I couldn’t read. And that was worse.
He looked at me like he was trying to figure something out. Like maybe he’d made a mistake. Like maybeIwas a mistake.
I froze, breath caught in my throat, terrified of what he was about to say.Don’t ruin this, I thought.Please don’t ruin this.
But before a single word left his mouth, a strange musical sound interrupted—his phone, somewhere in the tangle of his shorts. He pulled away from me and reached to the side, grabbing the bundle of fabric and fishing out his phone with one hand.
I sat up slowly, crossing my arms over my chest more for comfort than modesty. My pulse pounded in my ears. I didn’t know what had just happened, but I suddenly felt like I was back on the edge of uncertainty. Like everything that had just happened between us was about to be unraveled with a single sentence.
His eyes scanned the screen, then his whole body tensed again.
“What is it?” I asked quietly, bracing myself.
He sighed and rubbed his forehead, then looked at me with a lopsided, apologetic smile. “It’s my aunt. I’m needed at the inn. Now.”
Relief and confusion crashed together in my chest. “Is everything okay?”
“I think so.” He slid his phone back into his pocket, leaned forward, and kissed my forehead. “It’s probably something ridiculous, like a broken water pipe or an angry tourist. But I do have to go.”
I nodded, still unsure. “Okay.”
He looked at me a second longer, like he was deciding how much to say. Then he kissed me again—this time on the lips, sweet and slow.
“I know I probably look like I’m freaking out,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from my cheek. “But I’m not. I’m just…overwhelmed. In a good way.”
“Yeah?”
He nodded. “You’re kind of amazing, Lauryn. And I don’t want tonight to be over.”
