Page 67 of Welded Defender
“Please, Landon,” she whispers, a plea that sends shivers down my spine. “I need you. I’ve missed you so much.”
I grip my jeans, hands shaking as I push them down just enough to free myself. The moment cool air brushes my skin, need surges through me like fire. Marcy’s eyes are wide and desperate, her breath coming in short gasps.
“Now,” she whispers, urgency lacing her voice. “I need you inside me, Landon.”
I don’t need to be told twice. I push into her, and the world slips away. The cold that bites at my skin becomes a distant memory—all that remains is this moment, her body arching beneath mine, urging me deeper, claiming each inch of me until I can’t think of anything but the blissful connection between us.
I groan, the sound torn from my throat as I sink into her warmth, the sensation of her wrapping around me igniting every nerve ending in my body. I can’t fight the urge to move, to feel her respond. My hands grip her thighs tightly as I plunge deeper. The world around us fades into nothing; it’s just me and her.
Marcy’s body responds to every thrust, arching and twisting against me, her moans filling the small space with pure need. My heart races, pounding out a fierce declaration that this is right—this is everything I’ve longed for.
“God, you feel so good,” I groan, losing myself in her. My hands grip her hips, pulling her closer as I drive into her.
Each thrust sends shocks of sensation surging through my veins, igniting a part of me desperate to claim her, to make her mine in every possible way. The world outside fades intonothingness; it’s just us, tangled together in this moment of raw intimacy.
Her whimpers break against my ear—”Lan-don”—my name fractured into syllables between ragged breaths. My fingers dig crescents into the soft flesh of her thighs as I drag her toward me, the truck’s suspension creaking beneath us. She clenches around me, hot and slick, the pressure drawing a guttural sound from somewhere deep in my chest that I barely recognize as my own voice.
“Don’t—” My voice breaks as I bury my face in her neck, inhaling her scent like oxygen. My fingers tremble against her skin. “If you disappear again—” I can’t finish. The memory of the empty apartment and unanswered calls claws at my throat.
Her pulse hammers against my lips. She cradles my face, thumbs catching wetness beneath my eyes I hadn’t noticed. “Landon.” Her whisper cracks between us. The truck windows fog with our breath as she presses her forehead to mine, our eyelashes nearly touching.
Something shatters inside me when she mouths those words against my lips—three syllables that are so simple, yet mean everything. Her breath catches, warm against my skin, her pupils dilated so wide I could fall into them.
“I love you.”
“Fuck, I love you too,” I groan, my voice breaking over the words like waves against rocks. My fingers tangle in her sweat-dampened hair, holding her gaze to mine. “I’ve loved you since the moment I saw you in Hal’s.” I thrust harder, deeper, the truck’s frame groaning beneath us. “Loved you since you asked me to pretend to be your boyfriend, like I hadn’t already been imagining it from the second you stepped through that door.”
My lips crash against hers like a man drowning, swallowing her gasp as my teeth graze her bottom lip.
“I’m yours,” she pants against my mouth, her voice breaking. “Only ever yours.”
A sound tears from my throat—half growl, half sob. “Mine,” I rasp, my fingers digging into her flesh. “And I’m yours, Marcy. Fucking yours.”
I reach between us, my thumb finding that swollen point where she’s most sensitive. Her back arches off the seat, a strangled cry tearing from her throat as her nails dig into my shoulders. Her thighs clamp around my hips, trembling as she comes apart beneath me. The windows have fogged completely, sealing us away from the pines and the night air, creating a world that shrinks to just the heat of her skin against mine and the ragged sound of her breathing.
My lungs burn. Pressure builds at the base of my spine as I drive into her—once, twice—my rhythm faltering. My vision blurs at the edges. I bury my face against her neck as white-hot pleasure rips through me. The truck rocks beneath us as I shudder against her, her name a broken sound against her skin.
When we finally come down, we’re half naked and breathless. Her lips curve into a smile I wish I could freeze on her face forever.
The truck settles into comfortable stillness after our wild rush, the night wrapping around us like a warm blanket. I lean back against the seat, chest heaving, my heart still hammering as I steal a glance at Marcy.
“You okay?” I ask, my voice rough but threaded with real concern.
“More than okay,” she murmurs, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on my arm. “You made sure of that.”
CHAPTER 37
Marcy
The truck headlights sweep across the front of the house, catching the snowdrift piled against the porch steps and the warm glow spilling through the living room curtains. I grip the door handle harder, my knuckles going white. Through the frosted glass, five silhouettes shift and pause, then shift again—Nova’s wild curls unmistakable even in shadow, Wes’s lanky frame perched on what must be the arm of the couch.
Landon kills the engine. For a second, we just sit there, the cab filling with the faint tick of cooling metal and the thunder of my pulse. His hand finds mine, steady and warm, and I squeeze like I need proof he’s real.
“You ready?” he asks.
“No,” I admit with a small laugh. “But yeah.”
He breathes a cloud of vapor into the night air, then swings his legs out of the truck. The crunch of his boots circles around to my side, and my door opens with a metallic groan. Wind whips across my face, stealing my breath, but Landon’s palm finds the small of my back—five warm points of pressure through my coat—as we climb the icy steps.
