Page 19 of Wrapped Up with the Mountain Man
As he carries me toward the bedroom, I catch sight of Mia's angel ornament on the mantelpiece, and I send up a silent prayer of gratitude. For second chances and the courage to take them. For love that's strong enough to survive fear and doubt. For finding our way back to each other despite our own worst instincts.
My heart hammers as Tannon carries me to the bed. He sets me down so gently, like I might break, and just looks at me with such intensity it steals my breath.
"I can't believe you're here," he says, his voice rough. "I kept thinking that I'd dreamed the whole thing."
"I'm real." I take his hand, press it to my racing heart. "I'm here."
His hands shake as he reaches for my sweater. "Let me see you. I need to see you. I've been going crazy imagining this."
"God, Dove." His fingers trail over my collarbone, down to the swell of my breasts still covered by my bra. "I thought about you every single day. Wondered if I'd ever get to touch you again."
"You have me now," I whisper.
"So perfect," he breathes. "I remembered, but somehow you're even more beautiful than my memories."
He lowers his head, pressing kisses to the valley between my breasts, across the swell of each one, everywhere except where I need him most. When his mouth finally closes around my nipple, the sensation shoots straight between my legs.
"Tannon," I gasp, arching into him.
"I missed these sounds," he murmurs against my skin. "Missed the way you say my name when I touch you. Spent two months replaying every sound you made in my head."
He works my jeans open, sliding them down my legs along with my panties, and then I'm completely bare before him. He steps back, still fully clothed, just looking at me.
"You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." His voice is thick with emotion. "And because I almost lost you. Because I was too scared to fight for you at Christmas, and I've regretted it every day since."
"You're fighting for me now."
"I'm going to spend the rest of my life making up for those lost months." He finally strips off his own clothes, and the sight of him, broad and powerful and hard for me, makes me clench with need.
He lays me back on the bed, settling between my thighs but not touching me where I need him most. Instead, he kisses me slow, deep, pouring everything he can't say into the connection of our mouths.
"Tell me what you need," he says against my lips.
"You. I need you."
"And I’ll give it to you." His hand trails down my stomach, so close to where I'm aching. "But I'm going to take my time with you. I'm going to worship every inch of this body I've been dreaming about."
His mouth follows the path of his hands, taking his time with each breast until I'm squirming beneath him. He kisses down my ribs, my stomach, the curve of my hip.
"Tannon, please," I beg.
"Please what?" His breath ghosts over my inner thigh. "Tell me what you want, baby."
"I want your mouth on me. I need to feel your tongue on my pussy."
He groans like I've wounded him. "I've been dreaming about this. About tasting you again, making you come on my tongue."
When his mouth finally makes contact, I cry out at the perfect pressure. He eats me slowly, thoroughly, like he has all the time in the world and wants to savor every second.
"You taste so good," he groans against me. "Even better than I remembered. I could do this for hours, just make you come over and over on my tongue."
He works me with devastating skill, alternating between broad strokes of his tongue and focused attention on my clit.
"That's it," he encourages, his voice muffled. "Let me hear you. Let me know how good I'm making you feel."
The combination of his skilled tongue and his fingers stroking inside me has pleasure building fast. But every time I get close, he gentles his touch, keeping me on the edge.
"Please," I whimper. "I need to come."
