Page 7 of Mountain Man Rescue
“How old are you?”
“Forty-five.”
I smile faintly. “Then it’s perfect. I’m twenty-nine.”
That earns me a low, reluctant laugh—the tension in the room hums between us, the air thick enough to touch. I reach for the hem of my shirt, my hands shaking just a little as I lift it away. His chest is solid heat beneath my palms, that flag and eagle shifting with each breath.
He watches me, his eyes dark, torn between control and surrender. “You don’t have to do this,” he says quietly.
“I know,” I breathe. “But I want to.”
I dip my head, brushing another soft kiss across his mouth. His hands hover near my hips, caught between pushing me away and pulling me closer. I can feel his restraint unraveling, one heartbeat at a time.
“Last chance, Red,” he warns, gravel-rough.
I meet his gaze, daring him. “Then stop me.”
The storm howls outside, and the world narrows down to the space between our hearts.
He lets out a groan as one hand grabs onto my hip and the other wraps around the back of my head, pulling me closer. I tease my nipples across his chest, grinding back and forth against his erection.
I lock eyes with him. "I want all of you. Every. Inch.”
He kisses me breathless while I take my hand, slide it into his pants, and wrap my palm around him.
"You're going to be the death of me," he groans.
The desire to have him inside is strong, but I want to taste him first. I slide down his chest, kissing my way to the top ofhis flannels. I drag his pants down his legs, unleashing a red, swollen beast with a glistening tip. I toss the pants, then swirl my tongue across the head, gently licking the slit. His hips buck, and I want to drive him crazy as much as I want to please him. I open my mouth, wrapping my lips around him. I take my time rolling my tongue around and around, taking as much of him into my mouth as I can.
"You're killing me," he growls.
In one swift move, he drags me back onto his hips. I spread my legs wide, sink down on him, and feel a fullness I've never experienced before. Every fiber of me comes to life. I start rocking slowly, then look down to watch him glide in and out of me. Pressure begins to build; I grab onto his shoulders, staring into his eyes.
"Where did you come from?" He asks.
I thrust harder, grinding myself into him in a frenzy. "Wyatt...." I cry. His head drops back; his hips fly up, and we explode together.
I've never felt anything like it.
And now that I have—once is definitely not going to be enough.
Chapter Five
Wyatt
My heart’s still hammering in my chest as Gina curls against my side with a soft, contented sigh. I shouldn’t have let it happen. I told myself I wouldn’t. But as my pulse slows and the old, gnawing loneliness inside me ebbs away, all I feel is relief. And something dangerously close to joy.
“I can hear you thinking, you know,” she murmurs, her fingers tracing the ink over my heart.
“I’m not thinking.” My words come out rougher than I mean them to.
She tips her head back, grinning from ear to ear, and gives my beard a playful tug. “Yes, you are. Stop it. We’re both adults. I don’t have any regrets, Wyatt. Not one.”
She nestles closer, wrapping an arm around my middle. Her lips brush my chest, warm and soft. “And for the record,” she whispers, “that was the best sex I’ve ever had.”
I drag my hand through her silky hair, grinning like a fool. “Good to know, Red.”
“I like it when you call me that,” she says quietly. “It…well…it makes me feel special.”
