Page 35 of Her Mountain Man Protector

"If you stop I will end you."

A wrecked laugh punches out of him. "Good girl."

The words land low in my stomach. He kisses me again, deeper, one hand in my hair and the other under my hoodie at the small of my back. His palm is huge and rough and shaking a little. I feel that shake and it undoes me more than the kiss.

"Been thinking about this since you laughed over ruined muffins," he says. "Since you told me not to put it in a drawer. Since you stood in red light and kept me from doing something I'd hate myself for. I want you on a bed. I want my mouth between your legs until you forget the drive. Then I want to fuck you until my name is the only word you know."

Heat floods my face. "Dirty."

"You asked for the rest of the lesson. This is the rest."

He walks me backward down the short hall without taking his mouth off mine. The bedroom is dim. A wide bed. Dark blankets. One window already latticed with snow. He peels the hoodie up and off. The Equinox shirt follows. Cold air finds my skin and then his hands find it instead, thumbs stroking the undersides of my breasts through the thin bra.

"Christ, Oakley." His voice has gone to gravel. "Look at you. Standing there letting me see you. You have any idea what that does?"

"Show me."

He drops to his knees.

The picture of Colt Hawthorne on the floor of a safe house, looking up at me with his mouth already parted, almost takes my legs out. He pops the button on my jeans and works them down with my underwear in one impatient drag. I step out. He grips my hips and presses his mouth to the inside of my thigh, then higher, then higher, until I have to grab his shoulder or sit down on his face without being invited.

"On the bed," he says. "Back. Knees open. I want to see what I'm eating."

I go. The blanket is cold and then it isn't, because he follows, shoulders spreading my thighs, stubble scraping sensitive skin. He looks at me there for a long, blistering second. Then he puts his mouth on me.

The first stroke of his tongue is slow and filthy. I jolt. His forearm bands across my hips and pins me still.

"Easy. I've got you. Let me hear it."

I hear myself. A broken sound. He hums against me, pleased, and licks again, flatter, then pointed, circling the place that makes my vision narrow. One thick finger strokes through the wetness he's making and doesn't push in yet. He teases. He learns. Every time my thighs try to close he shoulders them wider.

"So wet for me already. All that mouth on the road and this is what you were hiding. Sweet thing. I could stay right here and ruin you before I even get my cock out."

"Colt."

"That's it. Say it when I do this."

He sucks. Gentle and then not. My back arches off the bed. His finger slides into me, thick and careful, and my body takes it after every locked door and every almost. He adds a second when I rock down onto the first. His tongue stays on that swollen peak and his fingers curl and the room shrinks to the wet heat of his mouth and the stretch of his hand.

Snow ticks the window. The fire in the other room ticks as it wakes. I come apart on his tongue with my fists in his hair and his name wrecked in my throat. The peak rolls and rolls. He doesn't lift off. He works me through it until I'm shaking and too sensitive and still trying to drag him up by the flannel because I want his mouth on mine while I'm still clenching on nothing.

He comes up shining and smug and so hard when I palm him through his jeans that he drops his forehead to my stomach and swears.

"Please," I say.

"Please what. Use that smart mouth for me."

"Please fuck me. I want you in me. I want it now."

He stands long enough to strip. Flannel. Thermal. Jeans. Boots kicked somewhere I don't care about. Colt without clothes is a study in work and want, chest hair, a scar along one rib, his cock heavy in his fist while he looks at me spread on the bed he carried me to.

"Condom's in the kit," he says. "I can stop."

"Don't you dare stop. I'm on birth control. I'm clean. If you are, I want you bare."

His eyes go black. "I'm clean. You sure?"

"I'm sure. Come here."