Page 22 of Claimed By The Mountain Man

Carter’s lips crash down on mine, and I melt against him. My hands land on his chest, and I can feel his heart racing beneath my palms as I kiss him back. Our tongues brush, tangling as we press impossibly closer.

Carter’s erection presses firmly against my stomach, telling me how much he needs me. I grind against him, and my core clenches when he groans. I’m burning alive with need. My body is on fire.

I pull back, sucking in a deep breath. “Take me to bed.”

His eyebrows rise. “Scout, we don’t have to. We can take it slow.”

“I know, but I don’t want to. I’m ready. I want to be with you,” I tell him.

“You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

Carter stoops down until we’re eye to eye, his eyes dark and intense. Wrapping his hands around my thighs, he lifts me into his arms.

“I can walk!” I protest.

He shakes his head as he carries me up the stairs like I weigh no more than a feather. As soon as we step into the bedroom, his mouth crashes down onto mine. He kisses me like he’s starving for me. I kiss him back just as desperately.

Carter stops next to the bed, and I slide down his body, moaning as his cock rubs against me. He grips my hips, holding me in place. His gaze holds mine as he reaches for my shirt and slowly tugs it up. I raise my arms, helping him pull the garment over my head. My arms drop, and I try to cover myself self-consciously.

Then I see the look on Carter’s face, like I’m his fantasy come to life before him. His mouth is open in awe, his eyes dark with lust as his gaze skims my body.

“God, Scout. Do you have any idea how fucking sexy you are?”

I let my hands slowly fall away so he can see all of me. I reach for his shirt, and he takes over, ripping it off in one smooth motion. My mouth waters as I take in his wide chest, the smattering of hair that leads down to the waistband of his jeans.

He has some scars on his chest, and I gasp when I realize they’re wounds from battle. I reach out, my fingers skating over one of the marks.

“Knife,” he says. “I got stabbed on my first deployment. Luckily for me, it wasn’t very deep.”

“Scary,” I whisper.

He shrugs nonchalantly as my fingers trace over another wound. “Another knife. That one was deeper.”

I lean forward, pressing a kiss to each of the marks. The one on his shoulder, his ribs, his chest.

“Bullet,” he rasps, his voice laced with pain.

I lift my eyes to his. “That was what sent you here?”

“Yeah. I used to hate that I got medically discharged,” he admits. “But not now.”

“No?”

“No. Now I’m glad. I got shot and sent home, and now I’m here with you. I’d say everything worked out just right for me.”

I melt at his words.

He lowers his head, claiming my lips with his. My hands drop to the button of his jeans, and I toy with the metal button, trying to calm my racing heart as I push it through the buttonhole.

Carter breaks the kiss, and we both look down as I lower his zipper. He helps me push his pants down his legs, and I stare wide-eyed at the way his cock tents his boxers.

“Your turn,” he says, reaching for my yoga pants.

I let him push the soft material down and step out of them. Then I reach for my panties.

“Wait,” Carter says, stopping me.