And once I’m comfortable he thrusts in deeper.
“Yes, take me. Take all of me.” He moves his body on top of me, his dick filling me all the way up.
“I’m yours,” I tell him as my body comes apart.
He holds me close as he continues pushing his dick in and out of me. “You’re taking me perfectly. So good.”
My body calms as he speeds up. He pushes even deeper and then holds me close.
“I’m about to come, sweetheart.” He looks at me like he’s questioning if he should come inside me.
I nod. “Come inside me, Daddy.” I don’t want this feeling to end.
He grunts and curses as he unleashes himself inside me. It’s gorgeous to watch. I swear my heart cracks wide open when his eyes crash into mine. “Stay here,” he tells me once his body has calmed. “Let me clean you up.”
After we’re both cleaned and lying in bed together, I let him hold me close. I fall asleep to the sound of his steady heartbeat.
Morningin the mountains feels like a secret.
The light comes in soft and pale through the cabin windows, turning the snow outside into glitter and making everything inside look warmer than it should. The fire has burned down to glowing embers. The air smells like pine and coffee waiting to happen—andhim.
Beau is behind me in bed, one arm heavy around my waist like he decided sometime in the night that I’m not allowed to float away.
I’m tucked into his chest. My hair is a mess. My skin is warm in that slow, satisfied way that has nothing to do with the heater.
And I should feel safe.
I do feel safe.
That’s the problem.
Because the moment my brain realizessafe is possible, it starts screaming that it’s temporary. That it will end. That I’ll ruin it. That he’ll wake up and remember he’s Beau Wilder—the manwho came to the mountains to be alone—and I’m the curvy complication currently breathing in his bed like I belong here.
I stay perfectly still, like maybe if I don’t move, time won’t move either.
Beau shifts behind me, sleepy and slow. His nose brushes my hair. His voice is rough with morning.
“You run already?”
My heart jumps so hard it’s embarrassing.
I turn my head slightly. “Was I… trying to run?”
His hand tightens on my waist, not hard—just certain. Possessive in a way that makes my stomach flip.
“You’re thinking too loud,” he murmurs.
I scoff softly. “That’s not a real thing.”
“It is when it’s you,” he says, and presses a kiss to my shoulder—warm, lingering, like he has all the time in the world.
I close my eyes.
God.
He kisses like he’s not afraid of sweetness.
Like he doesn’t mind wanting.
