Page 12 of The Mountain Man's Secret Star
He tasted like winter air and possibility, and when he groaned against my lips, the sound sent heat racing straight between my thighs. My back hit the wall beside his bookshelf, and he pressed against me, his hard body pinning me in place while his mouth worked magic against mine.
"Been thinking about this," he murmured against my throat, his lips trailing fire along my pulse point while his hands slid down to grip my waist. "Ever since the kitchen. Ever since I tasted you."
"Gavin," I gasped, my head falling back to give him better access. His teeth scraped gently against my collarbone, and I arched into him, desperate for more contact, more pressure.
His hands were everywhere—tangling in my hair, tracing the curve of my waist, sliding under the hem of my sweater to find bare skin. Each touch sent fire racing through my veins, and Iwas drowning in sensation, in the scent of him, in the way he was looking at me like I was something precious and necessary.
"Tell me you want this," he said, his voice rough with need. His thumb traced along the edge of my bra through the thin fabric of my sweater, and I gasped at the contact.
"I want this," I whispered, my hands working at the buttons of his shirt with trembling fingers. "I want you. I've wanted you since that first night when you fed me soup and looked at me like I mattered."
That was all the permission he needed. He lifted me easily, my legs wrapping around his waist as he carried me toward his bedroom. Through the window, I caught a glimpse of the comet blazing overhead, its warm light streaming through the glass to bathe us in celestial fire.
His bedroom was simple—a large bed covered in soft quilts, windows facing the mountain. But all I could focus on was the way he was looking at me as he set me down beside the bed, his hands gentle but sure as they worked at the hem of my sweater.
"You're beautiful," he said quietly, his eyes never leaving mine as the sweater hit the floor. "Been wanting to see you like this since that first night."
The cool air hit my skin, but his gaze was like a physical touch, warming me from the inside out. I reached for him, needing to feel his skin against mine, and he helped me push his shirt off his shoulders.
God.He was gorgeous—all lean muscle and golden skin marked with small scars that spoke of years in professional kitchens. I traced my fingers along his collarbone, down his chest, marveling at the way he shivered under my touch.
"Your turn," I whispered, and watched his eyes darken with want.
His hands were reverent as they explored my body—tracing the line of my ribs, the soft curve of my breast through lace,the sensitive skin just above my jeans. When his thumb brushed across my nipple through my bra, I gasped and arched into him, desperate for more.
"So responsive," he murmured, his lips trailing down my throat. "Love the sounds you make."
He unhooked my bra with practiced ease, and when the cool air hit my skin, I shivered—from the temperature and from the way he was looking at me like I was a feast he wanted to savor slowly.
"Perfect," he breathed, and then his mouth was on me, hot and wet and perfect, and I cried out at the sensation. His hands held me steady as he worshipped my body with his lips and tongue, taking his time, learning what made me gasp and arch and whisper his name.
"Bed," I managed when his tongue circled my nipple in a way that made my knees buckle, but he was already guiding me back onto the soft quilts, his hands gentle as he helped me out of the rest of my clothes.
The comet's warm light streamed through the window, painting our skin in gold, and when he settled between my thighs, the weight of him perfect and familiar even though this was our first time, I felt complete in a way that still amazed me.
"I want to take my time with you," he said against my lips, his hand trailing down my body with exquisite slowness. "Want to learn every sound you make, every way to make you come apart."
Oh.The promise in his voice made me tremble, and when his fingers found the slick heat between my thighs, I gasped and arched against him.
"So wet," he murmured, his voice filled with masculine satisfaction as he traced through my folds with one finger, barely touching where I needed him most. "All for me?"
"Yes," I whispered, because there was no point in pretending anymore. "All for you."
He worked me with his fingers, slow and thorough and absolutely devastating, learning the rhythm that made me writhe against him. His mouth found my breast again, and the dual sensation of his lips and his clever fingers made me cry out, my hands fisting in the quilts.
"That's it," he encouraged, his voice rough with his own need as he added a second finger, stretching me, preparing me. "Let me hear you."
I was lost in sensation, in the way he touched me like I was something precious, in the comet light streaming across our bodies and the Christmas magic that seemed to shimmer in the air around us. When he curled his fingers just right, hitting that spot that made me see stars, I nearly came apart right then.
"Please," I gasped, teetering on the edge of something overwhelming. "I need more. I need you."
"What do you need?" he asked, but I could see the strain in his face, could feel how much he wanted me in the rigid control of his movements. "Tell me exactly what you want, sweetheart."
"I want your mouth on me," I said, past embarrassment, past everything except the desperate need coiling tighter in my core. "I want you to make me come with your tongue before you make me come on your—"
The raw words made him groan, and suddenly he was kissing his way down my body, hands gripping my thighs as he settled between them. When his mouth found me, hot and wet and perfect, I arched off the bed with a cry that echoed off the cabin walls.
He was methodical, thorough, learning exactly what made me gasp and writhe beneath him. His tongue traced patterns that had me climbing toward release, then backing off just enough to keep me on the edge. When he sucked gently on that bundleof nerves while his fingers worked inside me, I shattered, crying out his name as pleasure crashed over me in waves.
