Harper’s so soft, so responsive—she shudders just from the heat of my palms. I nuzzle up the inside of her thigh, kissing higher, closer. She’s already damp, I can smell it, and it makes me feral. I want to taste her so bad my mouth goes dry. But I wait, teasing her with the edge of my beard and the heat of my breath, until she’s shifting her hips, an unspoken plea in every movement.
“Please,” she whispers, needy, undone.
I hook my fingers in the thin band of her panties and drag them over her hips, down her legs, letting them fall to the floor. She’s shaking now, just a little. It’s not from the cold. I spread her knees, grip her thighs, and press a slow, wet kiss right on her clit. She arches, gasping my name, her fists twisting in the sheets behind her. I do it again, and again, until her breath comes in sharp, broken little moans. I want to see how long I can keep her there, right on the edge, trembling for me. I want her so wound up she doesn’t remember where she is.
But I’m not that cruel. I tongue her slow, then fast, licking her open, teasing, then pull away, nosing her thigh, looking up at her with a warning. “Not yet,” I say, and it comes out more growl than words. She whimpers — God, yes — and I lap at her, slow at first, then with purpose, tongue flattening and curling, working her up until her whole body is tight as a bowstring.
She comes undone for me, hips bucking, fists pounding the mattress, a cry that would echo off the pine if these walls weren’t thick. I don’t stop. I ride her through it, licking andsucking, greedy for every drop. When she collapses back, legs shaking, I press soft, slow kisses to her thighs and sit back on my heels. She’s panting, hair wild, eyes blown wide with disbelief.
“Ethan,” she breathes, voice shredded. “I–I can’t feel my toes.”
I kiss the inside of her knee, then her stomach, then up, up, until I’m hovering over her, bracing myself on the mattress so I won’t crush her.
“You okay?” I ask. She nods, eyes dreamy, lips parted. I want to do this for hours. Days. The rest of my life. She pulls me down, hands at my wrists, pulling me onto the bed, and then rolls me with surprising strength until I’m on my back and she’s straddling my waist, thighs trembling and wet against my abs. She’s not timid now. Not even a little.
Harper covers my mouth with hers, messy and uncontrolled. She can taste herself on my lips. She’s wild with it. I let her ride me, let it build between us, all that want and noise. She grinds against my cock, slow at first, teasing me like I teased her, then fast, chasing the friction, chasing her own pleasure again and again.
She reaches down and drags my shirt up, over my head. My chest is bare and her hands roam all over me, hot, greedy, everywhere at once. When Harper reaches the waistband of my jeans, she doesn’t hesitate. She pops the button, yanks the zipper, and drags them down my legs. My cock springs free, so hard it’s painful. She stares at it, then at me, eyes wide and stunned.
“Jesus,” she says, and laughs, the sound breathless and a little shocked. “You’re just …” She shakes her head.
“Yeah,” I say, and kiss her again, because I’m not sure I can top it, but I try. I flip her, easy as breathing, pinning her wrists above her head while I line my cock up and take her in one long, slow thrust. She’s so wet, so hot, I have to grit my teeth tokeep from coming right then. She arches up, moaning like she wants the whole mountain to hear her.
I fuck her slow at first, letting her feel every inch, every stroke. She’s so damn responsive, her body begging for more, hips bucking, legs locking around my back pulling me deeper. I keep her pinned with one hand, the other roaming everywhere -- her waist, her tits, her face, her hair. I want to touch all of her at once. She’s squirming, gasping, nails digging into my forearms, and I fucking love it. I love her like this -- lost in it, open, wild.
She claws her hands free and latches onto my shoulders, dragging me down. “Harder,” she breathes, and I oblige, fucking her deep and steady, grinding my hips just the way she likes. She’s so tight I have to pause, just to keep from blowing too soon, but she won’t let me. She clamps down, begging with her whole body, and her voice gets wilder, less controlled, not worried about anything but the need. She’s so close, I can feel it in the way she clutches me, the way her thighs quake, her breath shattering in my ear. I want her to come with me, want to feel her lose it on my cock, and when I angle my hips just a touch, she unravels for me. Full body, top of the lungs, shudders so hard I nearly lose my grip on her wrists. Her pussy clamps and pulses around me, pulling my orgasm out in a rush so intense I have to bite down on my own shoulder to keep from shouting her name to the whole damn county.
We collapse side by side, both of us fucked out, grinning like idiots, the fire in the hearth the only witness to whatever hurricane just passed through this room.
I roll onto my side, pull her into my arms, and don’t let go. She’s warm, spent, her hair tangled around my chest, breathing in slow, shaky gusts. I kiss the top of her head, the side of her jaw, then her lips, never wanting to stop. I don’t. Not for a long time.
Chapter 20
Ethan
The Grand View Lodge photography room looks like someone emptied a Christmas storage unit and arranged everything with military precision. There are wreath arches, velvet armchairs, a faux fireplace, trees dripping with gold ornaments, and enough twinkle lights to signal aircraft.
The photographer is a short, excitable woman named Marla. She gasps when Harper and I walk in. “Oh, the Holiday Bride couple! You two are stunning.”
Harper turns pink. I turn … whatever color men turn when they want to punch a wall and run away at the same time.
Marla flutters toward us with a camera strapped to her like a tactical vest. “Let’s start with something simple. Ethan, darling, stand behind Harper. Wrap your arms around her waist.”
Harper chokes. I freeze.
“Go on,” she murmurs. “It’s just a photo.”
Just a photo … except putting my hands on her does not feel likejustanything. But I do it—slowly, carefully, sliding my arms around her waist. She fits against me so perfectly it should be illegal. Her back warms instantly beneath my hands, and her breath wobbles in a way that hits me low in the gut.
Marla claps. “Gorgeous! Now tilt your chin down toward her. Yes, like you adore her.”
I actually do adore her so it’s not hard to put on the face. Harper glances up at me with a soft little smile.
Marla snaps a burst of photos. “Next! Harper, place a hand on his chest. Ethan, lean in a little more. You two have natural chemistry. Oh! Let’s do a forehead touch.”
We turn, facing each other now. Close. Too close. Her lashes flutter. A strand of hair slips across her cheek, and I tuck it behind her ear.
“Closer,” Marla whispers like a conspirator.
