“Angel.”
Rush was quiet for a beat, his fingers tracing slow, absent strokes over her back. “Because you looked like one when you came flying out of the church with your big white dress and that veil streaming behind you.”
Lily looked up in surprise and saw his lips curve up.
“You hopped into my truck and looked at me with those big green eyes, and I knew I was taking you with me.”
Lily’s stomach dipped. She hadn’t expected something sweet to come out of his mouth, or to feel the warmth that spread through her, making her all soft inside.
“I didn’t think you’d say yes,” she said shyly.
Rush laughed, his hand smoothing up her spine, over her back to wrap around her neck. “Not a chance. You were all soft and glowy and sweet.” He paused, his voice dipping lower. He brought his other hand up to cup her chin, slipping his thumb across her mouth before slipping it inside. “Except for this mouth.”
Lily’s breath hitched, and she instinctively closed her lips around it, tasting the salty heat of his skin. “What’s wrong with my mouth?” she murmured around him.
“This?” he murmured, touching her lips, dragging his thumb back and forth slowly over them. “This mouth is too fucking sexy to belong to an angel.”
Lily smiled, her eyes drifting closed as a yawn overtook her.She nestled into the hollow between his neck and shoulder, nosing in closer. His scent was addictive, all warm and manly, making her eyes feel heavy. She thought she felt the faintest brush of lips over her hair, but she couldn’t be sure. His warmth seeped into her bones, lulling her into sleepy contentment.
She didn’t want to think about tomorrow or about what came next.
For now, there was only the calm energy of the cabin, the steady thrum of Rush’s heartbeat, the slow stroke of his hands keeping her anchored to him just a little while longer.
Her breath evened out, her body sinking into his.
Just before sleep took her, she heard the quiet rumble of his voice.
“Sleep, angel.”
And she did.
Chapter Sixteen
“Callahan! You in there?”
Lily jolted awake at the sharp crack of fists against the cabin door. Riggs let out a single, piercing bark before bounding toward it, his tail wagging like they had company he recognized. A quick glance out the window showed that the snow had stopped. It was midmorning, at least, based on the brightness.
She exhaled, relaxing just a little as she gathered her wits about her. Surely Cujo wouldn’t greet a serial killer with that much enthusiasm. The dog was way too grumpy for that. Whoever was outside, Riggs knew them.
“Who’s—” Her voice was husky with sleep as she sat up, yanking the quilt up when it slipped and exposed her bare breasts to the cold cabin. She peeked over the side of the bed, searching for something to wear, only to freeze when her body protested. She was deliciously, thoroughly sore, her skin still tingling from Rush’s hands, his mouth, the way he’d pressed her into the mattress.
Against his mouth.
Straddling him?—
Oh God.
Her brain played an explicit highlight reel she definitely hadn’t asked for, flashing hot and unfiltered, as heat flooded her cheeks. She pressed her hands to her burning face.
She hadn’t?—
That wasn’t?—
The mattress shifted abruptly, and her gaze snapped to Rush. Oh, she did, and it had.
He was already up, looking enticingly rumpled and sexy with his dark hair and scruff shadowing his jaw, standing at the edge of the bed. She watched covertly as he tugged on his jeans, leaving them unbuttoned enough to see the hint of gorgeous hip bones and dark, curly hair rising from the open fly. The hard muscles in his thighs she’d rubbed all over. That seriously gorgeous butt that she had a strange desire to sink her teeth into.
He snapped his jeans closed with a sharp flick, and she flopped back on the bed with a sigh. For a split second, she thought he might turn around and give her that wicked smirk that made her toes curl, maybe even haul her back under the covers for round—what was it? Three? Four?
