Page 75 of Rocky Mountain Desire
Then he grabbed her hips and she clung to him, riding him like a bucking bronco. Thick and hot, his cock pierced her again and again. Matt dropped a hand between her legs and caught hold of her clit, pressing the little nub.
Climax slammed into her as she screamed his name.
Matt groaned out his release, driving upward and pinning them together, groins grinding as he pulsed into her depths, his firm abdomen rubbing her clit and extending the aftershocks.
It was a good thing he held her upright, or she would have puddled to the ground. There was a cry from the main room, but the urge to peek simply wasn’t there.
Matt caught her chin in his hand and kissed her, hard. His body and hers still connected, his tongue taking possession of her just like his body had claimed hers.
Chapter Twenty-One
Hope parked her truck and cursed at the horrible noises it made as the final rumble of the engine died away.
It seemed her temporary wheels were fast becoming just that. She probably shouldn’t have used it to drag race through the mud a week ago, but it wasn’t as if the truck was a classic or anything. She’d have to find something else to drive, and soon, but so far she hadn’t had much luck.
She hopped out and headed around to the passenger side, chuckling to herself. If she was honest, she hadn’t been looking too hard. Between the shop, the raffle and everything else she was doing—like spending tons of time with Matt—she’d neglected to look for new wheels. Only with the ominous noises it had just made? She’d better move the search up the to-do list.
She pulled open the door and reached in for her grocery bags, hooking up all four at one time. That meant she had to use her hip to close the door. She gasped as she turned and looked up into Clay’s smiling face.
“Let me give you a hand.”
She couldn’t justify pulling away, so Hope let him take a couple bags. “What’re you doing here?”
Clay stepped ahead of her easily. “Waiting for you.”
Really?“Why?”
He grinned. “Got a lead on a car for you. I’ve got the details in my back pocket. Let me show you.”
Perfect timing. “Affordable? Reliable?”
“Not a tank?” Clay laughed. “Let’s get these into your place then I’ll show you.”
Hope hurried up the stairs, excited at the prospect of getting to drive something that didn’t take two blocks planning to turn around. She unlocked the door and dropped her groceries on the table, pointing for Clay to do the same. “Mondays as a day off is a wonderful thing, but I put way too much on my plate at times. So? Show me.”
Clay pulled out a paper covered with notes. “Sorry, my handwriting isn’t very good. I’ll help.”
He stepped beside her. All her concentration focused on the information on the page. Low enough mileage, the make looked good.
She pointed to the numbers. “What’s that say?”
Clay bent over and examined his handwriting closer. “Seven thousand, but I think we could talk him down. It’s old man Shedwick—he’s buying a new car for his wife and didn’t get offered enough as a trade. I’m pretty sure I can find out what they offered him. If you suggest a price between what he’s asking and that, he’ll take it.”
Sheer willpower kept both feet on the floor she was so excited. “This is perfect. Thank you, so much. I can’t tell you how much it means to me.”
Clay stepped in front of her, his body trapping her against the fridge, and suddenly the position they were in felt far too confining. “It’s the least I could do.”
Hope planted a hand on his chest, intending to open up space between them, but he closed the gap faster than she could retreat. His mouth was on hers and she protested loudly. Or as loudly as she could without air. His bulk held her in place, his arms confining.
Hope simultaneously bit down and lifted her knee as hard as she could.
Clay folded in two, backing away as if she was a wild cat. One hand stretched out to form a blockade, the other between his legs cupping his balls. He gasped for air, his sputtering proof her knee had made direct contact. For a second she thought he might drop to the floor, but he caught himself, his free hand clutching one knee hard.
Hope scooted to the far side of the kitchen near the door, ready to run if necessary. Only Clay wasn’t coming after her. He groaned a few more times before grimacing.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” he squeezed out, the words broken by his gasps.
She’d kicked him hard enough to make a real difference.
