Page 21 of The Smokejumper's Lady
“You ready for me, Clea?”
“Yes,” I whisper. “Yes.” Always.
And then he pushes in.
Slow, steady, deeper with every heartbeat. My mouth falls open as my body stretches to take him again. It’s a tight, overwhelming fullness, but different this time. My body remembers him now. Welcomes him. Wants him.
We move together in lazy, rolling thrusts. He dips down to kiss me, soft and deep, contrasting the sharp rhythm of his hips.
It’s slow. It’s intimate. A different kind of fire than before.
“Look at you,” he whispers against my mouth. He pulls back and guides my chin so I’m looking down at where we’re joined, where he’s sliding in and out of me. “Taking me like a good girl.”
My whole body flushes. “You feel…so deep.”
“Cause you were made for me.”
He growls the words into my skin as he fucks me deeper, slower, like he’s trying to make me feel every inch. Like he wants to own this moment and burn it into my memory forever.
And God, he’s doing it.
My climax hits like a slow-building wave that crashes all at once, stealing my breath and blanking out every thought. I cry his name as he thrusts into me harder, chasing his own release.
When he finally spills inside me, groaning my name with a grip so tight on my hips it borders on desperate, I realize something that makes my heart race all over again.
I’m not just falling for this man. I might already belong to him.
After, we don’t move for a while, our bodies slick with heat, hearts beating in sync like they’ve known each other longer than just one night. My skin hums where his hands have touched, lips kissed, tongue worshipped. He’s still inside me. Softening, but not quite leaving. Like his body is reluctant to part with mine.
He brushes a kiss against my temple. “You okay?”
I nod, breathless. “Yeah. More than okay.”
A satisfied rumble vibrates in his chest. “Good. Cause that was fucking perfect.”
I smile into his neck, not ready to let go. After a deliciously long time, we manage to peel ourselves from the bed, limbs heavy and sore in the most delicious way. He puts on his sweatpants and I tug on an oversize T-shirt and try to make myself presentable, though there’s nothing that can tame the glow I feel or the small, silly smile tugging at my mouth.
We head to the kitchen together but we barely make it two steps before he’s on me again, his hands sliding under the shirt, cupping my breasts, pressing me back against the nearest wall.
“I lied,” he murmurs against my throat.
“About what?”
“That being the last round.”
Before I can catch my breath, he spins me toward the counter. His hand slips down between my thighs, and I feel myself already melting under his touch, feel him pulling down his waistband and pressing his hard length against the bare skin of my ass.
“Ryan,” I whisper, clutching the cool edge of the counter. “We need to eat—”
“You will,” he growls, kissing down my spine. “After I take care of this first.”
And then he’s inside me again.
Hot. Hard. Deep.
His chest is flush to my back, one hand gripping my hip and the other flat on my stomach, holding me steady as he drives into me from behind. The slap of skin and the sharp edge of the counter biting into my palms only heighten everything…the urgency, the hunger, the way I feel like I’m unraveling every time he’s in me.
“You like being taken like this, don’t you?” he pants. “Bent over the counter, dripping for me.”
