And before I can taunt him again, his hand fists tighter in my hair. His growl is low, feral. “Enough.”
Before I can protest, he hauls me up off his cock and onto his lap in one motion, my skirt riding high, panties pushed aside with impatient fingers. His mouth crashes to mine, tongue ruthless, his teeth catching my lip as his other hand clamps around my breast, kneading hard.
Then he’s lining himself up, not giving me time to think, and with one thrust he spears into me.
I gasp, the sound almost a cry, my nails digging into his shoulders as he fills me to the hilt. Hot, thick, stretching me wide. My head falls back, the firelight painting his skin gold as he grips my hips and drives up again, harder, faster, like he’s been waiting all night to claim me.
The blanket nest beneath us shakes with every slam of his hips. The wet slap of flesh on flesh mingles with my ragged moans, his grunts, the crackle of flames. He fucks me like he owns me, like my body is just another deal he’s closing, ruthless and unstoppable.
“Jon—oh god—” My voice breaks, my words dissolving into breathless cries as he pistons up into me, hitting deep, grinding just right against my clit with every thrust.
“Look at me,” he orders, voice gravel and steel. I force my eyes open, and his silver stare burns through me, dangerous and consuming. His hand slides from my hip up to my throat, holding me there, not tight, just enough to remind me who’s in control.
The coil inside me snaps. My orgasm tears through me hard, my body clamping around him, convulsing as I scream his name. My thighs shake, my nails rake red lines down his back, and I’m lost in the raw heat of him.
He doesn’t slow. He growls into my ear, his pace brutal as he fucks me through it, dragging every last spasm from me until I’m trembling, boneless in his arms.
Then with a final, savage thrust, he buries himself deep, his cock pulsing as he spills inside me with a guttural curse.
His forehead crashes against mine, sweat-slick, both of us gasping, shuddering, clutching each other like we’ll break apart if we let go. Together, we collapse onto the blankets and try to steady our breathing. I face the fire as he lies behind me.
It’s hard now for me to wrap my head around everything that just transpired. I actually had sex with Jonathan Clark…
I want this night to last a lifetime. His arms wrapped tightly around me from behind, with only a sheet now covering our naked bodies. The fire continues to flicker, keeping us warm.
After we regain the ability to speak, Jon leans forward and kisses my neck once more, and I snuggle further into him. “So,” he begins. “Is this what you meant by keeping things professional?”
His question leaves me laughing so hard that my abdominal muscles begin to ache. It doesn’t take long for him to join in the laughter as I playfully nudge him.
“Shush,” I remark.
After the laughter dies down, he sighs and nuzzles back into me from behind. “If I’m being honest, I never really wanted that, but you did, and I wanted you to be happy. Hell, if I had it my way, I’d keep it this way forever.”
I can’t help the intrusive thoughts that are rushing into my mind as he speaks. What if this could last forever? Would that be such a terrible thing?
10
JONATHAN
The light hits first. Thin winter sun cutting through the big cabin window, laying gold bars across the mess we made of the floor.
The fire’s nothing but a scatter of glowing embers now, still hissing quietly, the smell of smoke tangled with the faint spice of sex in the air.
Lizzy is warm against me, her back pressed into my chest, her hair tickling my jaw. One arm is still locked around her waist like my body refused to let go through the night. Her heartbeat is a soft, steady thrum against my ribs.
I lie there, unmoving, because moving would mean breaking it. Last night’s taste is still on my tongue, her moans still echo in my head.
I thought I’d wake to regret, to awkward silence, to her pulling away. Instead, it feels maddeningly natural, like my body already knows hers, like we’ve been doing this forever.
The thought unsettles me.
I never cared for the whole “making love” bullshit—sex was sweat, friction, release, nothing more. But last night, I slowed down, listened, felt.
And she gave it all back. It scared the hell out of me, how much it mattered.
She stirs with a tiny sigh, stretching against me before rolling over. Those ice-blue eyes blink open, catching the sunlight, brighter than the snow outside. My chest pulls tight.
“Good morning, beautiful,” I murmur, pressing my lips to her forehead. She hums, then burrows deeper into me, her mouth brushing my skin like she can’t decide whether to hide or taste me again.
