Maybe more so.
Maybe this thing between us had been building and building for years, made more intense because of the distance, because we’d forced ourselves to hold back. But now the dam had been opened and the full rush of my feelings for him flowed forward. Even thinking back to that night under the mistletoe, I hadn’t known how he felt about me. I’d been so afraid. So insecure.
Tonight, there was none of that.
He’d been clear. He’d made sure I didn’t have to guess. He wanted this as much as I did.
His hands flexed over my thick coat. I shrugged it off, letting it pool on the floor at my feet. He murmured his approval, slipping his fingers beneath my thin tank top so that we were finally skin to skin.
I tugged at his quarter zip, and we pulled apart for just a moment so he could remove it. Then we were back together, mouth against mouth, tongue against tongue. My hands moved into his thick head of hair. His kisses trailed over my jaw, down the line of my throat, across my collarbone where he nibbled and sucked and made me gasp for breath. Then, finally, to the top of my breast.
“Tell me when to stop.” His scruff tickled my sensitive skin.
“No,” I told him. “Don’t stop.”
He pulled back, meeting my heated gaze. “We don’t have to—”
“Only if you don’t want to,” I told him. “If you want to stop—”
“I don’t want to stop.” He laughed low and dark. “Holly, I’ve wanted this for—” He kissed me deeply, his teeth grazing my bottom lip. “Holly, I want you. More than you know.”
“I’m yours, Sam. Have me.”
And he did.
We moved back toward the bed, slowly, unable to quit kissing, our feet tripping and stumbling over each other. We were laughing by the time my legs hit his baseboard. But our mirth didn’t last long. Neither did our clothes.
I took his remaining shirt, admiring his hard, muscled chest. The way he’d grown so fully into manhood. The breadth of his shoulders. The taper of his waist. Gosh, he was breathtaking to behold.
Then he took mine and had a similar worshipful moment, admiring the ways I was soft to his hard, curvy to his flat, woman to his man. While he admired, I reached back to unclasp my bra, pulling it down slowly, savoring the way his gaze darkened and he watched the straps fall one by one.
“Holly.” He hissed out a breath. Then he stepped slowly forward and kissed me again. He started at the corner of my mouth and worked his way down. His tongue trailed a path over the curve of my jaw, down the column of my throat, to the swell of my breast. Then down further until he’d sucked my nipple into his mouth. I gasped, arching my back, begging for more.
He moved to the other side, the other nipple. I clutched his shoulders and leaned back against the bed, shaking with nerves, with need. His hands reached for my thighs, picking me up by the knees and wrapping my legs around his waist. Together wetumbled onto the bed where he wasted no time in peeling my leggings away.
Before he could go further, I grabbed him by the waistband, silently demanding he match me.
He obliged. And I was treated to a delicious undressing.
And then there we were, only separated by two thin pieces of clothing.
He pulled back, his hands trailing down my thighs. “I’ve wanted you my whole life, Holly.”
I held his gaze. “I’ve wanted you too.”
He shook his head slightly. “Not your body.” A smile tugged at his full mouth. “Notjustyour body.” His fingers brushed back and forth over my inner thighs, driving me wild. “I’ve wanted you, Holly Haden. I’ve wanted you to be mine. I’ve wanted you to talk to and laugh with and enjoy. I’ve wanted what that kiss under the mistletoe promised all those years ago—the start of something beautiful. This isn’t just sex for me. I want you in my life. I want you by my side. I want you—all of you.”
I didn’t know what to say. My heart punched at my chest, beating something new and foreign. Had anyone ever wanted me like this? So completely? So purely? Tears pricked my eyes, an embarrassing swell of emotion at his admission. I had never felt cared for like this. I’d never felt seen like this. What was I supposed to do now? How could I ever go back to life without him?
Whatever happened next, I knew my life would be divided differently from now on—to the before Sam Autry part and the after, because this night was about to irrevocably change me.
I felt it already happening, a bone-deep metamorphosis that would be impossible to come back from.
“Okay, Sam.” He held my gaze, a silent question burning through the air between us. “Okay,” I repeated on a raw whisper.
He saw something then, or heard it in my voice. And then there was nothing between us. He pulled protection out of the drawer next to his bed, and we were moving together. He pushed into me, and I gasped a cry of pleasure. I wrapped my arms around his back, my legs around his hips, needing to anchor myself. But nothing could have prepared me for this. For Sam Autry claiming me so thoroughly.
He murmured beautiful promises in my ear between kisses, between gasps and cries and moans. We were meant to fit this way. Meant to move this way.
