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I bite down hard on my cheek, holding back the expletives that want to rip out of my chest so that I don’t ruin the moment. She lets me pump her exactly the way that I need to, my cock sliding in and out of her thick and fast, and then when I’m done I keep her up against the wall, grunting when she tries to climb down, needing to stay inside of her for just a minute longer.
Her fingers stroke up and down my back, more delicate than I’ve ever been touched before, and I press my face into her hair, listening to the beautiful sound of her panting combined with the relentless cascade of the spray.
“I love you,” she whispers again, and this time I pull my head up so that I can look down at her as she says it.
I slide gently out of her and we’re both instantly moaning, but then I pull her into my arms and hunch down so that I can kiss her, the water from the shower like a Phoenix Falls storm.
“I love you so much that I almost broke the condom,” I murmur against her, my cheeks burning red.
She clings on tighter and whispers, “I love you so much that I wouldn’t have minded.”
Chapter 19
Harper
I knew something was up because he was all quiet in the morning. And by ‘morning’, I mean from eleven-forty-five, when Mitch had already been up for six hours and I had been watching him work the keys on his laptop from my blanket swaddle beside him.
“Your fingers are too big for the keys,” I commented as I watched him aggressively backspace another typo.
His face had twitched with a half smirk and then he’d leant down to press stubbled kisses on my cheek.
“Go back to sleep, baby,” he’d murmured against my ear, the low bass of his morning voice reverberating deep in my belly.
I stared up at him – up his tan forearms, and his thick biceps – and he looked down at me with that kind but confident assuredness that he radiates without even intending to. He moved one hand to my hair and let his fingers leash deeply, the warmth from his skin like heaven against me.
So I had gone back to sleep and then I woke an hour later to a brown paper bag and a takeout coffee cup on the bedside cabinet. I sat upright, snaffled the bag, and peeked inside.
Donut.
Yum.
As I ate my donut I read the note he’d penned on the label of the packaging. Just a simpleMeet me in the office when you’re ready, followed by a littlex. I smiled at the kiss, picturing the crease on his brow as he deliberated whether or not to add it, and then the hard set of his jaw as he slashed the two tiny lines. I wondered if he knew that such a small thing was actually such a big thing. That it proved that his affection for me is bigger than his tough-guy ego.
I flip through the clothes that I brought to Pine Hills and never wore, pulling up a cream skirt and affixing my cream jumper over the top of it. Then I pull on my boots and open the door.
To four feet of snow.
I look back over to the paper bag and the coffee cup on my bedside cabinet with a new level of surprise and appreciation. Jesus Christ. Mitch risked life and limb just to get me a breakfast donut.
I lock up and walk down the path that Mitch has cleared, my eyes locked on his truck and the huge pile of snow next to it. Whilst I was blackout exhausted from everything that we did last night, Mitch must have been shovelling for at least an hour to get the area of gravel road between the bungalows and the gate to the Nature Trail clear enough for him to drive on so that he could take a quick trip to town.
I swallow hard and divert my eyes. Good Lord. How much stamina does he have?
When I reach Mitch’s office the door is wide open, waiting for me, and Mitch is sat behind his desk, looking at his laptop on his right. He scribbles something down in a notebook with one hand and holds his cell to his ear with the other. He senses me before I even knock and he immediately stands, wrapping up his phone call and tossing it to his desk as he makes his way over to me. Just before he reaches me, his arms already out to grab and pull me against him, he pauses his movements, his eyes dropping to the hem of my skirt resting just below my hips. I think my thighs start to blush.
He rumbles quietly, “The hell’s that?”
“It’s a skirt,” I say, almost laughing, but then I cross my ankles, suddenly feeling immature.
He closes the space between us, his eyes still down on my thighs.
“It’s… it’s cute,” he rasps, two fingers tentatively lifting the hem.
Feeling shy I try to change the subject.
“Thank you for my donut,” I say to him, wrapping my arms tight around his neck.
His eyes finally meet mine and I’m dazzled by his irises.
