Page 149 of The Holiday Heartbreaker

How had that...happened? Who was she?

That woman who had flung herself into his arms and kissed him. Who had bathed in the river after and then gone back to his bed...

Memories flashed through her mind. Of the second time. When he’d bent her over and showed her what it was like from behind. When he’d staked his claim on her that way, branding her with his iron hold, with the thickness of his arousal as he thrust into her.

She stayed up late baking because she could think of nothing else. Fiction and fantasy no longer felt like a haven when she was so utterly consumed with the reality of him.

How overwhelming he was.

She was still grappling with the brutality of what she’d done to herself the next day when she went out to deliver goodies. This was her life, and it was her life still. Church mouse, basically. Church secretary, really.

Sex hadn’t changed that.

And yet it had changed her.

Changed everything.

Zane hadn’t asked her to come back, and there was church in the morning. She didn’t have dinner with her dad on Saturdays because he spent Saturday in prayer and had to go over his notes. So she could disappear for a whole evening and never be missed.

But it seemed risky. It seemed foolish.

She told herself that all the way back to the cabin. This time she had a huge picnic hamper, with a roast chicken, dinner rolls, potato salad and green beans. She really hoped he hadn’t decided to have a party and use the rest of the condoms without her, because she didn’t have enough food for a party and it really would be awkward.

He opened the door before she knocked. Then he wrapped his arm around her waist and drew her inside, setting the hamper down on the floor before bringing her flush to his body and kissing her like he was starving.

She smiled against his lips. Because it was okay that she had come back.

He was clearly glad to see her.

He pushed her up against the wall, and he reached into his back pocket, taking his wallet out. He produced a condom from the wallet and freed himself from his jeans. When she realized what was going to happen, she gripped his shoulders, bracing herself for the impact of him. Though nothing could truly prepare her.

He gripped her hips and pushed her dress up, swept her underwear aside and thrust into her. She was pinned between his chest and the wall, and caught between need and fear. So sharp and keen that she didn’t know which would cut her deepest.

She never wanted him to stop.

But she was afraid. So afraid of how much this already meant.

She clung to him, and she found that she didn’t want to let go. Like this man, his grip, his intensity, everything he was, was holding her to the earth. It shouldn’t be that way. It didn’t seem possible. It was dangerous, that was what it was.

Inviting the big bad wolf to eat you.

They told children fairy tales for a reason. They were meant to be warnings. Little Red Riding Hood was a metaphor for not talking to strange men in the woods—or anywhere. But she’d done more than talk to him. Just days in, and she felt like he was an essential piece of who she was.

Need gathered low within her and she fought it. She didn’t want to be done, not yet. She knew he could make her climax more than once, but this wasn’t one of those moments, she could sense it, even having as little experience as she did. This was meant to be quick. Hard and fast and taking her over the edge.

She focused her world on him. His touch. The slide of his hardness within her.

Yes.

Zane.

And it was his name, echoing through her like a promise, that made her unravel. That made her cry out in ecstasy.

Zane.

He went right after her, roaring out his pleasure as he pulsed deep inside her.

Zane.

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