Page 22 of Trusting the Grumpy Mountain Man
"I've got you," he promises, voice rough with desire. "But you need to know where this is going. I want you in my bed. All night."
The boldness of his statement sends heat pooling low in my belly. "Yes," I whisper, reaching for the buttons of my shirt with trembling fingers.
He stills my hands with his own. "The kids will be in the bunkhouse all night. It's just us here. No interruptions. No holding back. I need to know you're ready for that."
The meaning behind his words sinks in. He's giving me a chance to set boundaries, to decide how far this goes. The consideration behind the gesture only makes me want him more.
"There's something you should know," I say, gathering my courage. "I haven't... I've never..."
Understanding dawns in his eyes. "You're a virgin?"
I nod, heat flooding my cheeks. "My career always came first. I’ve pleasured myself, but there was never anyone I wanted enough to..."
Instead of pulling away as I half-feared, he cups my face with surprising tenderness. "Thank you for telling me." His voice has softened, though the desire remains evident in his eyes. "We can take this as slow as you need."
"I don't want slow," I admit, emboldened by his response. "I want you. I have since that first night in the storm, maybe even before that. I just wasn't ready to admit it."
A sound rumbles from deep in his chest, somewhere between a groan and a growl. "You're sure?"
"Completely." I reach for my buttons again. "I trust you, Jax."
Trust.Such a simple word for such a complex concept. I've spent three days evaluating whether his program deserves trust. Now I'm deciding if the man himself does.
This time, he doesn't stop me as I unbutton my shirt, exposing my plain cotton bra to his gaze. I fight the urge to cover myself, vulnerable under his intense focus.
"Beautiful," he murmurs, tracing the edge of the fabric with one calloused finger. "So fucking beautiful."
The rough praise melts any remaining reservations. I reach for him, tugging at his shirt until he pulls it over his head in one smooth motion. The sight of his bare chest stops my breath. Muscled and tanned, marred by scars that tell stories of the fires he's fought, both literal and metaphorical.
I place my palm over his heart, feeling its strong, steady beat beneath warm skin. "You're beautiful too."
A laugh rumbles through him. "Not the word most people use."
"Most people aren't seeing what I'm seeing." I lean forward to press my lips to his collarbone, emboldened by his response to my touch.
His hands come to my waist, lifting me off the desk as if I weigh nothing. "Bed," he says, voice strained. "Your first time deserves better than a desk."
He carries me to the small bedroom, my legs wrapped around his waist, his mouth never leaving mine for long. When he lays me on the bed, the tenderness in the gesture contrasts with the barely restrained power in his body.
He stands looking down at me, chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. "Last chance to change your mind, Riley."
I sit up, reaching behind me to unclasp my bra. "I don't want to change my mind."
The bra falls away, and Jax makes a sound low in his throat, somewhere between a groan and a growl. He kneels on the bed, one hand cupping my breast while his mouth claims the other. The sensation of his tongue against my nipple sends lightning through my veins, arching my back to press more firmly against him.
"So responsive," he murmurs against my skin. "So perfect."
His praise emboldens me. I reach for his belt, fumbling slightly with the buckle until he helps me, stripping down to his boxers before turning his attention to my remaining clothes. Each newly exposed inch of skin receives attention from his hands and mouth, worshipping rather than rushing.
When we're both down to our underwear, he pulls back, studying my face. "I want to make this good for you," he says, voice rough with restraint. "But this is a big decision, so I’ll ask one last time. Are you sure you’re ready?"
I reach for him, drawing him back to me. "I want you, Jax. All of you."
Something primal flashes in his eyes before he claims my mouth again, this kiss deeper, hungrier than before. His hand slides down my stomach to the edge of my panties, hesitating until I nod, granting permission he doesn't need but waits for anyway.
When his fingers slip beneath the fabric, finding the center of my desire, I gasp against his mouth. He touches me with knowing confidence, circling and stroking until pleasure builds like a gathering storm. My hips move instinctively, seeking more of the sensation he creates so effortlessly.
"That's it," he encourages, watching my face as he increases the pressure. "Let go for me, Riley."
